(Jairic / Image Credit: Lukas Merka)

From the gritty streets of Detroit to the sun-soaked vibes of Cannes, Jairic has carved out a fierce spot in hip-hop as a self-made musician, producer, and storyteller, blending raw lyrical punch with genre-bending production that draws from icons like Nas and Wu-Tang Clan, alongside Detroit underground edges, classic funk, 60s rock, and film scores. With nearly 2 million streams across platforms from his fully self-written, self-produced, and self-performed tracks—paired with visuals that mix luxury and grit—he’s a rising star at the crossroads of music, film, and fashion, having delivered standout performances at elite spots like Château Les Alouettes in Cannes, Villa Balbiano on Lake Como, and the Paris premiere of the short film Azur, while his work spans France, Italy, Prague, and the U.S.

His latest drop, ‘Don’t Let Me Put A Track On You’, hit on September 5, 2025, via Rich Air Music, premiering on CLASH Magazine and earning props from EARMILK, packing quick-witted bars, chaotic sound design, a Caribbean pulse, and a bridge with warm female vocals that echo his unfiltered energy.

We sat down with Jairic to dive deeper into his journey, influences, and this bold new track.

What’s it like growing up in a musical family in Detroit, and how did that shape your early days in hip-hop?

I’m incredibly grateful I had music around me from such a young age. In Detroit, rhythm was everywhere — every get-together had live music, and I grew up playing drums and piano. That foundation shaped everything I do in hip-hop.

How did you transition from producing beats for local Detroit artists to creating your own independent sound?

I loved producing for others, but I love writing too much to stay quiet. It’s therapeutic and engaging — I had to find my own voice.

Can you talk about the influences from Nas, Wu-Tang Clan, and classic funk that show up in your music?

Part of me is always chasing that standard — a beat as timeless as ‘C.R.E.A.M.’ or lyrics as poetic and hard-hitting as Nas. Classic funk adds the groove that ties it all together.

What’s been the biggest adjustment living and working in Cannes after coming from Detroit?

The toughest adjustment has been being away from family. I was performing and working on a project in the South of France, and ended up missing part of my daughter’s soccer season — that was hard.

How do you blend elements from film scores and 60s rock into your hip-hop production style?

When I produce, I see it like a film scene — every track feels like part of a soundtrack. That’s where the cinematic elements slip into the hip-hop foundation.

Tell us about performing at places like Château Les Alouettes and the Azur premiere—what stands out from those experiences?

I’ve been fortunate to collaborate with incredible people — but at the end of the day, it’s the relationships, the audience connection, and the places themselves that stand out most.

What inspired the lyrics in ‘Don’t Let Me Put A Track On You’, especially that “don’t run up on me” vibe?

Someone in my family was going through a really tough time — they got attacked for doing the right thing, and I had their back. As it started to spill onto me, I thought, ‘Oh no, you don’t want any of this.’ That energy sparked the track, and from there it took on a life of its own.

How did writing this track in the south of France bring in that Caribbean pulse and contrast between smooth and chaotic elements?

I was staring out at the Mediterranean, layering these wild percussion. It felt peaceful and soothing, but underneath it was a fight song — I was missing my family. That ‘manic, full of nonsense and grammatical’ section is where it really explodes. The bridge had been written for another track, but against that ocean sunset, it finally clicked and came together.

Can you walk us through the sound design choices in ‘Don’t Let Me Put A Track On You’, like the stirring intro and the bridge with female vocals?

The intro is actually a king cobra — a subtle nod to danger. I love layering percussion; sometimes I overdo it, but that’s where the beat takes me. The bassline has a reggae rhythm that locks in with the drums, then halfway through the verse it explodes into chaos — my favorite part. For the bridge, I originally sang it myself, but I wanted a female voice to bring contrast. Her harmonies and background vocals really added to the tension and build of the track.

If you could collaborate with anyone from your influences on a future track, who would it be and why?

Nas would be dope. I saw his Illmatic anniversary show in Germany with my son last year — legendary and effortless.

Stream ‘Don’t Let Me Put A Track On You’:

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Website – Instagram – Soundcloud – Youtube – Spotify