Dawn Richard: The Past, The Process, and Breaking Bad Curses
Some artists don’t just make music—they make you feel their journey. Dawn Richard has always been one of those artists. I still remember watching her on Making the Band, witnessing her talent, incredible tone, and undeniable determination and resilience. There was something about her, even back then.
Over the years, I’ve watched her evolve from the girl in Danity Kane to a fearless, genre-defying artist creating music that is truly her own. She has never been afraid to walk her path, and that unwavering independence is something I’ve always admired.
Mature Magazine talks with Dawn, who reflects on her roots in New Orleans—growing up in her mom’s dance school and how dance became the start of her career. She unveils the story behind her first album (one that many don’t even know exists), her trilogy album, and her creative process in making music. She also dives into how she carved her path after avoiding the pitfalls that many artists face when working with Sean "Diddy" Combs.
In an industry that often sidelines women—especially Black women, Dawn stands tall. She’s a true king in a queen’s body, carving her own space in a male-dominated world and setting new standards for independent artists. Dawn Richard isn’t just an artist—she’s a visionary who inspires us to be the trend, not follow them. That sounds mature to me.
As we celebrate Women’s History Month, let’s take this moment to highlight Dawn’s powerful story—a journey of resilience, independence, and artistry that continues to inspire.
Check out the full story below!
Mature Magazine: Your early life in New Orleans and your mom owning a dance studio have been major influences in your artistry. Can you share how those experiences shaped your approach to music and performance?
Dawn Richard: Yeah, my mom owns a dancing school. I will say owns because if Hurricane Katrina had never happened, she’d still have that dancing school. But that dancing school wasn’t just an institute for me to learn the art of dance—it was an institute that created family. My mom housed people who couldn’t afford dance studios, or girls who didn’t have the feet or the perfect technique, as well as those who did.
My mom has established relationships and taught young girls, creating relationships that have lasted decades and generations. I understood not only how to dance, but how to develop relationships with girls, how to be friends, how to be family, how to understand business—all those things were learned in that space.
It was crucial for me in my musical career because the first thing I did when I got in a line, I didn’t have to sing, I had to dance. The first time I wanted to sing “The National Anthem,” I had to get on a dance team in order to do it, so I had to try out for the NBA Dance Team. It was because of dance that I was able to sing “The National Anthem,” so dance has saved me many times. It was all because of that dancing school that was on Jonquil.
Mature Magazine: I remember what the dancing school looked like on “Making The Band,” but how is that area now? Is the dancing school still there?
Dawn: The building is there again, but my mom is now in her seventies. The dream was then to hopefully maybe rebuild it for her, but trauma is an interesting thing. I think her heart wants what was once there, and not what is now. A lot of those people have moved and gone, but I’ll never forget, and I don’t think any of us will forget what it was for us. That dancing school is the reason I have the career that I have. Those tights, those positions, that technique—that dance school, the smell of it, the journey of it—is the reason I’ve been able to have the success I’ve had.
Mature Magazine: Your first album, Been A While, marked the beginning of your career. What was the process like creating that project, and what were some of the biggest lessons you learned during that time?
Dawn: Been a While was my first project. I think what was really cool about it is that my dad and I did it together. He was trying to help me get traction. I was very different from what was typical in the New Orleans music scene—everything was R&B, soul, and jazz. And here comes this girl whose mom had a dance school, which meant I had dancers behind me. The girls from that school were my pop dance crew. I was a Black girl doing pop-electro, alternative music in New Orleans— that wasn’t necessarily a popular thing, but I did it anyway.
My dad tried to help the best way he could. A lot of those albums—Been a While and Angelique, which was my second album—were made mostly by me and my father, musically. We had a record with Ne-Yo that helped us, but for the most part, we recorded everything on the West Bank. I would go after school and work on the recordings—that was our bonding moment. The reason why it was so cool is because I was doing something I loved with my father, and he helped in the way he only knew how. He saw my dreams, and was trying to make it make sense for him, and for us.
Mature Magazine: Talk to us about Chocolate Milk.
Dawn: My dad was in a band called Chocolate Milk. They still play his music to this day. He still performs at Jazz Fest. That Groove City record—it’s not officially recognized as a national anthem, but the city sings it so much that it might as well be. When Frankie Beverly & Maze played their sold-out show, the DJ played Groove City while the crowd waited.
Chocolate Milk is one of those groups that will forever be loved by the city of New Orleans. My dad took his dreams and saw that I wanted to do the same. He and I were like ‘two peas in a pod,’ trying to build a career doing something not so conventional in New Orleans.
Mature Magazine: Danity Kane and Dirty Money were pivotal moments in your career. How did those experiences help you grow as an artist, and what did you learn about yourself during those transitions?
Dawn: Some people go to college and learn—I went to Danity Kane and Dirty Money University. It was difficult, ridiculous, hard, and amazing all at once. And then there were moments where it was just—Jesus. It was all the things you go through in life, with no manual.
Some of the best music I’ve made, some of the best songwriting I’ve done, and some of the largest crowds I’ve ever performed in front of—it was a fucking ride, man. That was what it was. A wild fucking ride.
Mature Magazine: Your trilogy—A Tell Tale Heart, Goldenheart, and Blackheart—is such a profound body of work. What was your creative process like for those albums, and how do you feel they represent your evolution as an artist?
Dawn: Dawn: I think gold, black, and red … Again, another time where I feel like I'm proud of that. Like, I'm proud of how I saw it, and I mentioned that people thought it was ambitious—too ambitious for somebody that didn't have a label. And it was clear to me what I wanted to do. I had all this information coming from the mainstream world, I had things to say. I had left with nothing, and I had things to say.
And um, it was fucking stellar, man. We had two people, me and Drew. Two people. And everybody kept saying, ‘who's funding you? Like, how are you doing this?’ And we were just, like, hungry. We were so hungry, and everybody looked at us like we were nuts.
On Goldenheart, they were like, ‘okay.’ And then Blackheart, they were like, ‘Oh shit.’ And then by Redemption, we were critically acclaimed. Like, they didn't—and no one understood how I went from Danity Kane to music like this. They didn't understand how I went from mainstream to underground in this way.
And I look now at where we were in music—we were ahead. I can say that and feel that and know that. We were ahead, that’s what I feel about that. Those eras were a real moment in time for me personally, but I also think it spoke to what a lot of artists go through up in this industry. A lot. And I think it became a blueprint that I can stand on. I don't care if anybody else stands on it. It's my blueprint. Something I can own, and I know that I was there. I know that I did that. And I don't really give a fuck if anybody else acknowledges that—that shit was amazing. And I will stand on that.
Mature Magazine: Your Armor On EP was a defining moment in your career, especially with “Bombs” making a powerful impact on TV. I don’t know if I’ve ever told you this, but I remember it vividly—it was summer, maybe 2010 or 2011, around 1:00 AM, and the video came on. I just sat there in awe, admiring you, not just as a fan from “Making the Band,” but as an artist standing on your own. It was a proud moment to witness. How did it feel seeing “Bombs” on TV and realizing just how far you had come in your journey?
Dawn: Man, having “Bombs” on BET and that independent journey, I don't think people realize we fucking stressed over that. Like we fought to get “106 & Park,” and like nobody would touch me. Nobody would give me a chance. Nobody. I remember Drew and I fought and fought. We were so happy that we got that BET look. I remember being like, ‘I'm going to wear this orange jumpsuit and I'm going to have a haircut.’ Like, I remember the outfit I wore when I went on ‘106 & Park’, and when it happened.
For an independent artist at that time, coming from where I was, it was such a win for us. So to hear that it was a big deal for other people, I don't think people will ever understand what we did and how hard we pitched. We cold-called everybody. It was such a hustle for one moment. So, it's cool to see that it did make the impact that it did because, for us, it was a large fucking deal.
Mature Magazine: Your Redemption album was incredible with themes on breaking free from labels and curating music on your own terms. Can you talk about the album and what it means to you in your journey?
Dawn: Redemption was special because, at that point, I knew what I was. I had done the trilogy, which, again, everybody was like, ‘this is so ambitious,’ and they kept using that word. Not everybody got the trilogy. It’s so funny how things change, but when we were doing it, everybody was like, ‘this is such a large feat.’ But I saw it. I saw it so clearly how I wanted to present it.
After the trilogy, I was in my bag, you know what I mean? Like, I knew who I was as an artist, so we got really confident with the way we did that release. The music was so incredible. I worked with Machine Drum, who was phenomenal, and we created a USB necklace out of the album. So, we got into our tech bag. We were doing virtual reality visuals, and I released the entire album on a USB necklace—not only with the album but with a table book.
Mature Magazine: By the time you released your sixth album, New Breed, it was clear how deeply-rooted your connection was to New Orleans. What was the inspiration behind that album, and how did it feel to explore those themes so personally?
Dawn: Yeah, so New Breed was a good one because it came after 10 years of being away from home, after Katrina, and leaving my parents behind. I got reacquainted with everyone. The new New Orleans I had known was different. Post-Katrina New Orleans is a very different New Orleans than pre-Katrina. I met with the Indians, got back into my roots with the Washitaw Nation and Chief David Montana. I was able to mask with the Indians, sit down, and learn my ancestry.
I just tapped in in a different way, and I wanted to speak to my dad’s music with Chocolate Milk. So, I put his music into my music, sampled some of his work. I had Chief David Montana in the record. It was just a coming home, and you could hear it in everything on that record. It was very much leaning into my R&B and funk roots.
And I think that, to me, was my most New Orleans album. Most people tend to think New Orleans doesn’t exist in my music because it doesn’t traditionally live in the R&B and jazz space. But I feel like it’s in everything. I don’t think New Orleans is just those things. I do think New Breed speaks closely to the idea when people see New Orleans, they feel it in this way. It’s the closest I think I came to some of that traditional New Orleans.
Mature Magazine: Second Line was such a visually and sonically striking project. How was the process of collaborating on the visuals, and what was your vision for blending traditional New Orleans culture with futuristic elements?
Dawn Richard: Second Line is one of those ones too that I don’t really care if anybody acknowledges it. I think it shifted things, and I don’t care. At that time, I had been fighting for about 10 to 11 years as an independent artist to highlight the importance of Black people in electronic music. I had been talking about that, and because I didn’t have a machine behind me, it wasn’t widely acknowledged. Those who followed me knew, but for the most part, it wasn’t like there was a large movement for it. I wasn’t the only one doing it—there were a lot of great Black musicians carrying dance and electronic music, but they were underground.
When Second Line came out in 2021, I was heavily speaking on it, heavily pushing the importance of Black artists in Black music. People like Larry Heard, who was part of Frankie Knuckles’ crew in Chicago House, Black queer pioneers, artists like La Bouche, helped shape early house music and electronic music. Even Euro House, where Black artists were the voices behind the big dance hooks in the ‘90s—those iconic hooks you hear everywhere—I wanted to amplify that.
And I think Second Line spoke to that in a way that was unique and beautiful. I used my city to do that, from the artwork, where Cole did the visuals, to the album itself, which talks about my mainstream journey and my indie journey. It was half-machine, half-human, and King Creole spoke to that narrative. It was dope. Now, you see this incredible celebration of Black dance artists, I’m so happy for what we’re seeing and how it's stepping into its new time. But I think Second Line was a precursor of that—a part of it, not the whole thing, but a part of it.
Mature Magazine: You’ve been described as a genre-bending artist, seamlessly moving between R&B, alternative, and electronic. How do you approach these shifts in genre, and do you feel boxed in by industry expectations of being labeled an R&B artist?
Dawn Richard: I think my narrative used to be that I felt boxed in, but I don’t feel that shit anymore. Now, I’m just rocking. I don’t feel boundaries anymore. I think I’ve established myself to the point where everyone knows I’m not going to color inside the lines. They don’t even expect me to. I’m not that girl, and I don’t care to be that girl. The narrative used to be that I was this warrior fighting, but now, I’m like, ‘fuck them lines.’ My journey now is about how I can create enough opportunities and spaces for other people like me, so they can color as wildly as they fucking want to too.
My time of accepting or wanting validation has passed. I don’t live in those worlds. So, no, I don’t feel boxes, I don’t feel boundaries, I don’t listen to language that does not fit what-the-fuck works for me. Now, I just make the music I fucking love to make and open as many doors and windows as I possibly can for the next motherfucker. That’s my journey right now.
Mature Magazine: Your duo album with Spencer Zahn brought an incredible soulful blend of sound. What was it like creating that project, and how did it reflect your artistic versatility and growth?
Dawn: Yeah, I think my relationship with Spencer is like one you’d have if you went on an Eat, Pray, Love expedition. When someone decides they want to go on a journey to do self-discovery, and they say I’m going to travel, read a book, or go do self-care, I needed personal healing. I was going through a lot of things, and musically, Spencer just came right on time. He was the sound bath. When someone comes and gives you an opportunity to help you heal, you don’t ignore it.
So, even though I was in my bag doing Second Line, life happened, and here came this incredible opportunity to explore another facet of my musical journey. I’m never one to be afraid of trying something.
I don’t have a label, a manager, or anyone telling me, ‘Dawn, hold up, your brand should…’ There was an opportunity to do something really fucking amazing, and I took the chance to, and I didn’t even really know if it would be anything. It just felt good.
And Pigments ended up being one of my highest critically acclaimed albums. So much so that we thought, ‘shit, let’s do it again.’ And we did it again with Quiet in a World Full of Noise. What it has taught me is that I can be anything musically. I can go anywhere artistically. There are no boundaries in your artistic expression. Some will like some things you do, others may not. But this isn’t for rewards. It’s for personal growth. It’s for healing. It’s about waking up and looking at your work and saying, ‘this was worth it.’
The versatility I’ve been able to have in my career is something so rare. Most artists never get that. They blow up and have to stay right where the fuck they are to maintain it. I have the luxury to fly anywhere I want, and Spencer and I’s collaboration is just one of the many facets of the way I get to be my art. What a fucking life.
Mature Magazine: Your relationship with Diddy and Bad Boy is an important part of your journey, yet you’ve managed to break free from that shadow and overcome the stigma of being shelved—something that’s historically been challenging for many artists under his leadership. How did you navigate that journey, reclaim your creative freedom, and find the strength to build a career on your own terms?
Dawn: The way I was able to avoid the curse that everybody speaks about with Bad Boy is simple: I’m hungry. I’m never not going to be hungry. There is no ‘no’ here. I didn’t have an option. I was homeless. I had nothing. There was no option to sit on anybody’s shelf. So, if there was a way to write, to work, to hustle, that’s what I did.
If I wasn’t going to be a singer, I was going to be a writer. If I wasn’t going to be a writer, I was going to paint the walls of the studio. If I wasn’t going to paint the walls of the studio, I was going to be the cook in the back, cooking the fries. There was no option but to get it. And so that attention to craft was important to me. The discipline of making sure no one was going to stop me from feeding my family was imperative. And also, the Lord and the God that I serve was in it. That wasn’t written for me—I wasn’t allowing the faith I had in myself and in God to be shaken.
Now, I’m not saying others didn’t have their struggles, but that was my journey. I couldn’t take no as an answer. I couldn’t accept being put on a shelf. Not to say anyone else did, but that wasn’t an option for me. When I was given nothing, I took the train on my own dime everyday, from Baltimore to New York. I wrote 15 songs a day and mailed them in every day until someone said, ‘oh, okay.’ And I did that for months. For months.
Mature Magazine: Your songwriting is incredibly evocative and deeply personal. What is your creative process in the studio, and what inspires the narratives you bring to life in your songs?
Dawn: Yeah, so my process is always different, but I can see it before I even write it down, if that makes sense. Most times, I deal in themes. I’m a world builder. I can see the world I’m creating, and then the story comes. Sometimes it’s in a title, sometimes it’s in a phrase. I’ll write that down, and then I’ll start to visually see what I want my world to look like. That could be through color—most times, it’s through color, which is why a lot of my albums lean into color. From the color, comes the story, then the theme, and then I’ll know the movement. I repeat, I’ll know the movement, and from the movement, the lyrics come.
Sometimes, I’ll go in the studio, and the record will play, and I haven’t written anything down. The whole record might just be freestyle. And as I’m building that, I’ll put photos and visuals in the studio surrounding me to see it while I’m recording it. Once that’s done, I’ll start thinking about sequencing. Sequencing is by far my most favorite thing to do, and it’s the most difficult thing to do because that is how you tell your story.
If people listen to my albums, they’ll know that sequencing has to be seamless—it’s a thread. Most times, I’m telling the story through the sequencing. By the time I’m done with the album, I already probably know what all the visuals will look like before I even shoot them or get the treatments for them.
Mature Magazine: Looking ahead, what’s next for you?
Dawn: I'm back in my King Creole. You know, second line—there’s a follow-up. It’s a saga, so that’s happening now. I’ve already started giving people precursors. If you know me, I’ll usually tease records about where my sound is going prior to me even putting out a project. I do it all the time. There will be moments where I’m working on an album, and then two or three unreleased songs will just come out, and you’re like, ‘what are these songs?’
They just sit in the atmosphere, preparing. I had a record with Kaytranada—that was the Hold On record—and a record with Flying Lotus and Thundercat, which is the Let Me Cook record. There’ll be a few more like that, dipped in a little bit of gold for you to digest before I drop the next project.
I’m touring on Quiet in a World Full of Noise right now. We have a few festivals coming up, so check my website for that. My food truck, Papa Ted’s, is thriving, and I’m going into manufacturing, so we’ve got frozen biscuits coming. I'm also still working in animation. I’ve got a few things going on in the series side of animation as well.
Mature: Lastly, what does Mature mean to you?
Dawn: That's a good question. Here's what I know from myself: I can walk into a room and not have to compare myself to anything. I can leave that room, go to bed, and know that I've helped someone, that I’ve loved someone, that I’ve been good to someone, that I’ve given back to someone. That's enough for me.
Maturity, to me, is when you stop chasing the dragon and you sit in your shit. I'm sitting in my shit. I'm not chasing someone's idea of anything. I'm okay with whatever my journey is.
My biggest thing is to be able to help someone. If I can go to bed knowing I was good, I was kind, that I treated people with respect, and that I helped someone, that’s maturity to me. Maturity is when you stop chasing the concept of something; when you are that concept. When you are the trend and you're not chasing it, that's maturity to me.
I've just gotten there, where all I need is God's word and to be kind. And I'm good. The rest is a bonus. That's maturity to me.
*This interview has been edited for length and clarity.
Talent: Dawn Richard @dawnrichard
Editor-in-Chief, Stylist, Interview: Oliver Brown @olvrbrwn
Photographer: Karsten @karstenportfolio
Hairstylist: T. Cooper @tcooperbeauty
Makeup Artist: Tanaya Johnson @tanayajmakeup
Editor: Sarah Spohn @unknownspohn
Assistant Wardrobe Stylist: Paris Warren @monsieur_parie
Visual Editor: Liam Jenkins @liamjenkins.retoucher
Film Director: Oliver Brown @olvrbrwn
DOP/Editor/Colorist: Kevin Chiu @kchiucinematography
Special Thanks to sponsor: @blueberryNYCphotostudios
Production: @olvrbrwnstudios