The cosmic circumstances that brought me into J. Cole’s orbit

Timing is everything, but also persistence and a little nudge from the universe

My friend Sylvia put me on to J. Cole’s music in college, which she suggested as she got to know my taste in music: Biggie, Wayne and the Hot Boys, Jay Z, Eminem, Little Brother, Lauryn Hill and The Fugees, Kanye. Cole sounded like an amalgam of everyone that I liked, and I quickly became a fan.

On the set of “Kevin’s Heart” by J. Cole, 2018

Once I graduated college and began my filmmaking career in earnest, some of my first collaborators were local recording artists with whom I would make music videos and promos. These projects helped me experiment with different styles in an art-minded format, which was a stark contrast to most of the commission work I was doing at the time to make a living.

The more I made, the more I wondered if I could actually do this sort of thing for bigger artists, which I attempted to do from where I was in Charlotte, North Carolina. I made a spec video for Drake that WorldStar posted in which I stood in for The Boy. I left messages for Jay Z at his office. And when Cole came to town for a stop on his What Dreams May Come Tour, I brought along a booklet of storyboards for music video concepts I’d written for his latest album with the intention of trying to pitch him after the show.

I went to the concert that night with some friends, and then afterward found my way to the loading dock behind the arena where some fans had already congregated. One of the opening acts, Bas, came out to sign autographs, and I showed him my boards.

“This is dope!” he said and then invited me backstage to share it with the broader team.

I walked with Bas past the stagehands wrapping out the show - a part of a concert I’d never seen before. He told me it was his first time on the road like this and how much of a trip it was. He led me to a dressing room where Cole’s team was holding court.

“Yo this dude has an idea for a Cole video he wants to show y’all,” Bas said to the group.

I thought, “There’s no way anyone in here is going to care about what I have to say,” but much to my surprise, everyone gathered around me to see what I’d brought, including Ibrahim “Ib” Hamad, Cole’s manager, and Adam Rodney, Cole’s creative director (Cole had already left for his hotel). For 10 or 15 minutes, I shared my ideas, flipping through the booklet I’d made and answering questions about the creative. It was surreal. Not only did I not expect to actually make it back here, I absolutely did not expect it to go this well.

Not wanting to overstay my welcome, I thanked everyone for the time and exchanged contact information with Adam before heading out, beaming the whole drive home. Over the next few weeks, Adam and I traded a couple emails back and forth, but communication quickly fizzled out. I didn’t mind, though. The experience was a sign of affirmation to keep following my nose, which would lead me next to Los Angeles only a few months later.

I had decided to move to LA after my first trip there in 2013. During that visit, I met a number of supremely talented filmmakers who all gave me the same advice - that my career didn’t start until I moved there. That was all I needed to hear. By the time I got back to LAX, I had already decided I was going to make the jump. I gave myself a year to save some money and arrived in March 2014.

LA welcomed me with open arms. For the first month, I crashed on my friend Andrew’s couch in West Hollywood in a Tudor apartment complex that Charlie Chaplin had built in the 1920s to house actors. I started working pretty much immediately: shooting BTS on a Katy Perry fragrance commercial, doing an overnight edit for Taco Bell, operating a photo booth for a high school prom in Orange County. I sent my portfolio to every producer I could find and scoured the job boards. I landed a job cutting a short film for a director who also asked if I could dog sit for her for a month at her lovely apartment in Los Feliz. While she was gone, I cut her film and found a studio apartment for myself in Koreatown, which was available to move into the same day she returned.

Through an editor I’d connected with, I was introduced to a producer named Rik Michul from a company called Coyote Post who asked if I’d like to meet at their office. It was a short bike ride from my new place, so I rode over there one afternoon to meet him at a midcentury building on Hyperion in a lowkey part of Silverlake.

Rik is a redhead like me with a twisted sense of humor, and we got along immediately. He called me “Lazer” right off the bat, which I later adopted as my director name. He was generous with his time and asked me a lot of questions about myself. After we sussed each other out for awhile, he said he’d love to find something for us to work on together.

“That sounds great,” I said. “Do you have anything in mind?”
”Actually there is this one job. It’s an edit for a documentary for an artist from North Carolina like you. His name’s J. Cole. Do you know him?”

I kept my cool in that moment, but internally I was freaking the fuck out. Not even 8 months earlier, I was waiting in a loading dock on the other side of the country to pitch Cole on some music videos, and here I was interviewing for a job to edit a documentary for him.

I was ultimately hired and got to work immediately. A few weeks into the job, Rik told me that Cole’s management (Ib and Adam) wanted to come by the studio to see how the edit was coming along, which sent a shock of anxiety through my body. Would they recognize me from a few months ago? Should I say something?

They came in later that week and sat with me in the edit suite as we went through the various sequences I put together. Like that time backstage, they were easy to talk to, and the creative energy flowed. I decided to not bring up that we’d met before, which didn’t feel good, but I couldn’t muster up the courage to say something in the moment. I didn’t want to throw off the vibe. We wrapped up our session and Adam gave me his email address - which of course I already had - to send him some clips to review with Cole.

About a week later, they returned for another session. Adam walked in with a big smile on his face with Ib trailing behind him.

“Yo! You’re the dude we met in Charlotte!” he said.
“Oh shit,” was all I could think to say.

Adam said that when they left the last session, he told Ib that he recognized me but couldn’t put his finger on where. When I sent the follow-up email with the clips he asked for, he saw that he already had my contact saved, and it all clicked.

“Why didn’t you say anything?” Ib asked.
“Honestly, I didn’t want you guys to think I was a creep.”

Of course, there was no way I could have possibly orchestrated us meeting again like this, but I couldn’t help but still feel weird about it.

“Nah this is too crazy,” Ib said. “We told Cole too. He’s gonna roll with us here next time.”

Cole did indeed come with them the next visit. Rik moved me into the big edit bay for this session, and the staff put out a big spread of snacks. As I waited for them to arrive, I reflected on how unlikely it was for the universe to bring us together like this. This larger-than-life figure who I’d only seen from afar performing in front of thousands of people or on TV was now on his way to meet me. I paced around in the lobby in anticipation until Cole finally walked through the front door.

“Hey, how’s it going?” I said as I extended my hand. “I’m Scott.”

His eyes widened.

“You’re Scott?!” he said. “Man, they told me the whole story. It’s great to meet you.”
“It’s great to meet you too!” I said, stunned that he knew who I was.
“I think we were supposed to meet like this.”

I led him, Ib, and Adam into the bay and like we would do dozens of more times over the years to come, we jammed on an edit.