Chicago’s house story has always been one of musicianship, community, and cross-generational dialogue. Few embody that blend more fully than Andrew Emil. Trained as a percussionist before cutting his teeth at Chicago Trax Recording Studios, Emil carries a rare mix of technical craft and cultural fluency into every project.
His latest collaboration with Red Eye and Ron Carroll, Can’t Stop, folds that history into a contemporary statement: a vocal-driven track built from a single sample and expanded with warmth, groove, and intent.
In this conversation, Emil reflects on the interplay between his classical training and studio experience, the role of discipline in his creative process, and the ways collaborations can act as love letters to Chicago’s musical legacy. He also traces the shifts he’s witnessed in the city’s scene, from underground raves to community-driven projects like Viva Acid, offering a grounded view of how soulful house continues to evolve.
You began your journey as a percussionist in the Kansas City Symphony before moving into sampling and studio work at Chicago Trax Recording Studios. How do those early musical disciplines, from classical percussion to jazz, continue to shape the way you approach tracks like “Can’t Stop”?
My background in multi-instrumentalism and musicianship shapes how I think about composition, harmony, and melody, while my time in studios and working with music tech shapes how I decide what I want to put out sonically and creatively. Since “Can’t Stop” is built around a phrase sample, the challenge is making the most out of that material.
That can mean doubling sections, filtering the bass for more low end, chopping up vocals, or running them through granular multi-effects to add texture. All of that helps create motion and groove with sampled material. Then the musician side of me steps in, bringing arrangement ideas and programming additional parts around the samples to pull it all together.
In a past interview, you mentioned being mostly “in the box” these days, aside from a few choice pieces of outboard gear. When working on “Can’t Stop” with Red Eye and Ron Carroll, how did you balance the streamlined digital workflow with the need for warmth and a human feel?
The workflow on this one was really straightforward. Other than running the samples through my Avalon VT-737 and the Eventide Omnipressor for some extra warmth and color, everything else was done in the box. I love adding that hardware flavor, then resampling back into Logic. The human feel came through in the programming and, of course, in Ron’s incredible song and vocal performance. He’s such a talented songwriter and singer, and working on a track together is something we’d been talking about for ages—so it’s great that it finally happened. 
You’ve often said the act of creating should be the reward, and that consistency in practice is what leads to inspiration. What did your day-to-day creative process look like on this track, and were there any small rituals or accidents that became turning points?
Since we made this in Chicago and Red Eye is based in Dallas, the project came together in sections whenever he could make it up for sessions. When he was in town, we worked like the old days—eight hours straight in the studio, maybe with a quick meal or a walk in the park, then right back at it. Just steady beat-making, non-stop. Those little breaks go a long way in resting your eyes, ears, and mind. It’s amazing how much clarity and creative energy you get just by stepping into a different environment and giving yourself a moment to reset. Rest really is self-care.
Your Change Request project was built on self-imposed creative limits, like restricting notes or time. Did you bring a similar kind of constraint to “Can’t Stop”, and if so, how did it shape the direction of the track?
The goal here was to create a vocal-driven, feel-good house record with that “future classic” anthem vibe. The main limitation was sticking to the original sample material Red Eye brought in. He’d been holding onto this beautiful sample for a while, and it had everything you’d want for a classic anthem—keys, strings, guitar, bass, and vocals. That’s the foundation we built the entire track on.
“Can’t Stop” has been described as a love letter to Chicago. What cultural or emotional markers in the track did you consciously draw on to nod to the city’s legacy, whether in the loops, vocal phrasing, or chord choices?
At its core, it’s a song about giving all your love to someone—or, in this case, through metaphor, to the City of Chicago. We made an intentional choice to frame it as a Chicago-style disco-filtered house record with big, powerful vocals as a way to nod to the city’s musical legacy.
Ron Carroll’s voice carries a wealth of history. How did his presence in the session shape the way you built the grooves and overall energy? Did having such a distinctive vocal affect your mindset as a producer?
Ron is a close friend, and we’ve always had a deep mutual respect. I’ve been a fan of his songs like “Lucky Star” and “Back Together,” among many others, and I’d long wanted to create something just for him. When Red Eye brought this sample idea to the table, I knew instantly it was the perfect project to finally get Ron in the studio and make it happen.
As co-founder of Viva Acid, you’ve been working to highlight Chicago’s music culture through summits and community projects. How do collaborations like “Can’t Stop” connect with that mission and with the broader future of the city’s house scene?
Viva Acid was started to celebrate and strengthen the core of Chicago House—community, culture, and creativity—through a multigenerational lens. With five generations of house music now, each adding its own perspective, “Can’t Stop” feels like a perfect example of that connection. Each of us comes from a different generation, bringing our own voice, experience, and roots in the culture. That kind of collaboration is what I see as both the present and the future of Chicago’s house scene. When a record can touch different audiences and generations like this, it gives the music an even deeper sense of purpose.
When you think about soulful house as a whole, what qualities do you feel keep it alive and relevant even as trends shift? What keeps you personally invested in making this kind of music?
The term “Soulful House” is funny to me because, in truth, all house music is soulful. Whether it’s hard, acid, dark, fast, or midtempo, it always comes from a place of expressing deep emotion. That said, what keeps the label “Soulful House” alive are the timeless and powerful qualities rooted in the American Black Music tradition it comes from. The spiritual connection, the ritual of music as a sacred form of communication, inspiration, and even salvation—those things existed long before house and remain its core. That’s why soulful music is so strong: what comes from the heart touches the heart.
For me, I’ve been making house—Black music, soulful house—in Chicago since I was a teenager, and my connection to the culture only grows deeper with time. I’ve spent years in Chicago studios creating music on my own and with others, but the older I get, the more I realize that the most meaningful part of this sacred practice is making music together.
Looking back to the 90s and 2000s, a period many see as the heyday of soulful house, what memories stand out most for you from the clubs, the studios, or the community around it?
In the ’90s, house music in Chicago was less about clubs and more about underground parties and raves. Back in the ’80s, it leaned toward club culture, with regular venues people returned to, but when I first got into house in the ’90s, one-off events, raves, and loft parties were the norm.
By the 2000s, that shifted again—largely because of the “Rave Act” under Mayor Daley, which pushed things back into clubs. There were still undergrounds, but it was really a club-driven era, with legendary spots like Smartbar, Madbar, Red Dog, Spybar, Zentra, Shelter, Lava Lounge, Big Wig, Darkroom, Crobar, Red No. 5, Neo, and Slicks Lounge. What stands out most from that time was the chance to hear world-class Chicago DJs almost any night of the week. The city had a steady rhythm of events. Some of that energy has returned post-COVID, but it’s not at the level it once was.
I was working for Vince Lawrence at Chicago Trax Recording Studios on Chicago Ave. and Larrabee, then running sessions late into the night and bouncing in and out of places like Slicks, Crobar, and Zentra just up the street. It was nonstop music. That studio was a hub—meeting so many producers and musicians there gave me a front-row seat to how different people were creating, while I was engineering their work.
Culturally, one big difference between the 90s/2000s and today is scale. Back then, House was a smaller community, even though it was global—most people knew each other, or at least their music. Traveling to other cities just to dig through record stores, hang with local scenes, and bring back music nobody else in Chicago had was a common thing. We’d leave with empty record bags and come back loaded.
The sense of community was strong, but as technology advanced, the culture grew, industrialized, and became more commercial. House and underground electronic music didn’t really break into the mainstream in the U.S. until the 2010s. It shifted from word-of-mouth parties and grabbing flyers at record stores to seeing ads for festivals on the CTA.
Every generation reshapes the culture, making art that reflects their lived experiences, and that’s what keeps it moving forward. That’s still what excites me—the exchange between younger and older voices in the scene. I’ve learned so much from both, and without that ongoing evolution, none of it would be possible. I feel honored to still be here, making some of my favorite music with some of my favorite people.
What lessons from that era do you carry into your work today, both in terms of sound and in terms of how the culture itself is nurtured?
One lesson I hold onto is the importance of purpose in everything I do. The “why” matters more to me now than ever. Whether I’m creating art, music, events, or experiences, coming from a place of intention keeps the work authentic. The world needs more people unafraid to show up as their true selves. In today’s attention economy, artistic risk-taking isn’t always rewarded, which is why it’s so inspiring when you meet people pushing boundaries in their own unique ways.
Early on, I struggled to find my sonic identity. But over time—and after making countless records—I realized your voice emerges naturally from the process itself. If you keep creating and trust your intuition, your sound shows up in the body of work. It doesn’t matter if everything gets released; what matters is that you keep making.
About five years ago, my Viva Acid partner, Luis Baro—a longtime organizer and cultural curator—invited me and Bryan Bai-ee to help build a new kind of cultural experience. The idea was to go beyond music events and amplify the community side of the underground through talks, workshops, in-store pop-ups, and other activations. We launched the first Viva Acid summit in 2021 in Chicago, and by the grace of something greater than us, we’re about to celebrate year five next month. Since then, we’ve watched community-driven events, venues, crews, artists, and experiences reemerge in a big way. We couldn’t be more excited to see where this next chapter of Chicago’s house culture leads. Come join us, will you?
“Can’t Stop” is out now on Salted Music
Connect with Andrew Emil: www.andrewemil.com
The post “I feel honored to be making music with some of my favorite people” Andrew Emil interview appeared first on Magnetic Magazine.