Jonny Go Figure

“I’m sorry I didn’t pretty this up for you guys,” Jonny Go Figure says, entering his Brooklyn living room littered with records. “I know it looks like a clusterfuck in here, but this is just how it is. And I know where everything is.”

Jonny closes his eyes and thinks of a record he hasn’t played in a while before digging into a stack and pulling out a reggae breakbeat LP by Paul Nice and DJ Wisdom called Beef Patty Breaks. He explains the history of the album cover, which features an iconic image of model Sintra Arunte-Bronte in a wet, red Jamaica t-shirt.

Jonny can pick random hidden records from his collection and throw facts at you all day, but never in a condescending way. He began DJing at age four after his father, a DJ, gave him vinyl to play with. He easily rattles off history, the producer, and the connections behind the music, as if others might talk about their favorite sci-fi worlds.

Now in his 30s, Jonny Go Figure’s deep appreciation for the underground, producers, one hit wonders, underdogs, and canonical knowledge of reggae has put him deep with New York’s varied reggae community. A producer, emcee, singer, and DJ, Jonny is regularly behind the decks throughout New York City. He has regular gigs at Lovers Rock in Bed Stuy and on POR Radio, as well as tours with bands or his crew, Deadly Dragon Sound System.

When we stopped by, Jonny had just returned from a Canadian tour with his band, Megative. We caught up with the long-time DJ and his father, Desmond, on a too-humid day in August.

 

What’s up Jonny, where are you from, and when did your love for music begin?

I was born in Coney Island, spent some time in Guyana, Virginia, and came back to New York—I grew up in Brooklyn. 

Desmond [Jonny’s dad]: I made a monster, though, a music monster. That’s what happens when you start DJing at 4.

How do you trust a 4-year-old with your records?

Desmond: Either that or he would’ve been tearing up the school. Once we said we had a deal, he was good. He was good in school. Of course, he’s gonna damage my records, but that’s the price. He damaged a couple of needles and scratched some records, but not for long.

He grew up listening to all kinds of music—RnB, funk, reggae, soca, calypso. Everything. We got records all over the place, this is not it.

Is that Fleetwood Mac yours, Desmond?

No, that’s his.

 

 

I wouldn’t have pegged that for you, Jonny.

Desmond: You would be surprised, we used to go digging for records when he was a little boy, and he knows everything.

Jonny: I love Steely Dan. The Royal Scam is my favorite Steely Dan album.

I just charge into vibes, into the vibrations that I feel…so I express myself accordingly.

So, is there a method to the madness here?

There’s really no method, but I have ADD, so they say it’s hard for you to concentrate and things like that, but I never had a hard time concentrating on this. When I was young and watching my dad play, I would study where he would put things and stuff. I had a photographic memory.

 

“I don’t see the issue in the repress. I don’t care. Is the record playable? That’s all that matters. Does the record sound good? That’s all that matters.”

You have this wide musical taste, do you play all of them, or do you just have the collecting bug?

All of the above. I buy records to play because I’m a very active DJ. If I hear something dope, I’ll buy it to sample it.

I bought a record, the day of the WFMU Record Fair, called The 123s of Kid Soul. I know this because my friend Vaughn All-Star, who does a reggae show on Saturday morning, and a young lady after him played a song from this. It was called “I’m a Special Kid.” I thought, “I like this, I can definitely flip this.” So I Shazaamed it and got this cover. I didn’t know they pressed it on vinyl until I went to this pop-up.

I’ve played it out once. I don’t really get asked to do gigs outside of reggae which makes me sad because I have a lot of non-reggae shit that I like to play. My boy 100 dBs does a night called The Mix Up at Robert Bar in downtown Brooklyn. He invited me to play, and I brought this, mainly for sample purposes. I like to listen to this as well.

 

 

Do you use the liner notebooks inside comps like these as a reference for digging?

Sometimes. When I’m digging for reggae tunes and there’s all this stuff that’s super duper, rare, expensive, and hard to find, I’ll focus on that first because that’s what I predominantly play.

I’ll look at this comp book when I have a little play money and see what I want. The other day, I was looking at Discogs for a nice, clean pressing of “Impeach The President.” I have a repress, but I want an OG copy. The OG is very expensive, but there’s something about it!

Do you have thoughts and feelings about playing original pressings versus getting represses or reissues?

I feel like it’s usually the people who don’t DJ who are very gung-ho on that aesthetic of vinyl sets, including OG copies. I have a lot of OG pressings, but it would make my life much easier if they repressed the tune, and I could spend a lot less buying it. 

I don’t see the issue in the repress. I don’t care. Is the record playable? That’s all that matters. Does the record sound good? That’s all that matters. A lot of the time you’ll spend all this money on an OG pressing and it sounds like shit. And it’s like, you can’t do anything with it, all you can say is you have an OG pressing.

Do you have one OG pressing you’re really proud of?

I have a few that I’m proud of. At that same WFMU Record Fair, one of my friends was vending, and many of the records were like a dollar, 50 cents, or something like that. I found an OG pressing of Bob Marley and The Wailers’ “Hypocrites” on the Wailing Soul label for a dollar. If you know anything about that record, finding an OG of that press is not easy.

Another one I’m proud of is a blank; it’s “Johnny Cool Man.” The cool thing about this is that this record was given to me by Scratch Famous of Deadly Dragon. He was drunk one night, played this tune, and kept shaking me like, “Jonny, listen to this!” At the end he was drunk as hell, like, “Nah man fuck this, you need to have this! You need to have this!” And I was like, “It’s a $400 record, son! “ And he said, “Nah man, it doesn’t matter, we’re brothers. Take this, you’re my Jewish son!” All kinds of shit. So he gave me this record.

He definitely helped me a lot in growing my collection. I bought a lot of records from Deadly Dragon when they were open.

 

 

How did you get involved with the Deadly Dragon crew?

I met Jeremy about six or seven years ago. I was doing music at the time and was looking for a place to shoot a video, and I stumbled upon this record store in the Lower East Side and didn’t realize it was Deadly Dragon. I knew about them because they used to have a show on East Village Radio. I used to listen every Monday, but I didn’t know they had a shop or sold records; I thought it was just the sound.

 

 

Because you were underage?

Yeah, I was 20 at the time.

Desmond: The funny thing is that he performed at the same spot the week before, but can’t attend an event there. I tried to take him to a party that featured Johnny Osbourne, Yami Bolo, and Tony Tuff. I was so mad that I had to bring him back home, and then I came back! I said, “Jonny man, I’m so sorry you can’t go to the show, it was so good you would’ve enjoyed it.” And his face was so sad, like he really wanted to see that show.

I always used to tell him about these artists and go to see them at Biltmore Ballroom on Church Avenue, which is no longer, all these different places, such as Tilden Hall, where they used to have Supercat and the whole fraternity back then. He always wanted to experience that.

Jonny: At this point, I wasn’t even DJing like that. I was semi-retired.

You were semi-retired before 30?

Yeah, before 30, crazy right? So I got more into production. 

I’m looking at the store, and it looks all too familiar because my dad took me to many record stores when I was younger, and I got that feeling back. So I got some records, and I remember Jeremy was playing this tune called “Problem Everywhere,” and I was like, oh yeah, that’s Garnett Silk, a very iconic reggae singer, and he kinda died very young. Jeremy looked at me like, “How does this kid know this?”

We became familiar after that. I remember it was a Wednesday I met him, and by Thursday, he was like, come out to my party called Downtown Top Ranking. I went the next day and went every Thursday from then on. I kind of became the sound effects guy. I started helping them, carrying their shit, messing with the sound effect box and FX box. Then graduated to the mic man, emcee. Then it got to the point where they asked me to start bringing records, like he liked how I played, because I played for a few events like an understudy/apprentice.

I just got a tremendous amount of respect for that dude trying to keep this thing alive, having a record store, I just admired that. I’m just down for him. And then the next thing you know, I’m Dragon.

I’d love a breakdown of what you do because I know you do a lot, too much maybe.

I’m a background singer, percussionist, and DJ in Megative. This is more the brainchild of my friend Gus. Screechy Dan, who’s a staple in the New York community, is part of this band. We did the Montreal Jazz Festival, Quebec City Festival, Hillside Festival, and a TV show in Toronto for CBC.

Desmond: You need to rest! I’ve been there; your body shuts down.

Jonny: My dad always gets on me. I dunno, I just charge into vibes, into the vibrations that I feel…so I express myself accordingly.

So you do vocals with Megative, but I’ve seen you perform with The Frightnrs after Dan Klein passed.

I was singing with them for a little while. Even today, it’s still a touchy thing to speak about. Dan and I were working neighbors in downtown Brooklyn; I worked at Guitar Center, and he worked at this coffee shop. I would see him regularly, he’d pop in stuff, and I’d pop in to his shop and say what’s up – but I don’t drink coffee.

 

 

You don’t drink coffee? Do you know how many cups of coffee I’ve had today? Four.

You’re wiiiired! It tastes like rubbish. I don’t really like the taste of it. I drank it a few times, and I don’t like how it makes me feel. Coffee just makes me sick. Tea, I like tea.

These are my boys, my guys. I had the opportunity to hear Nothing More To Say way in advance. This record, man, is very important, especially for Daptone, because it expanded their ability to release things other than soul music. It really opened my eyes to how people still care about music and the quality of music. Daptone, I feel like they really focus on quality of how their shit sounds, and because of that it was big for these dudes to be on their label.

If you’ve been in the scene for a while, especially when Dan was around, you would see The Frightnrs perform everywhere. This shit is still sealed because it is a color copy.

 

“I’m a fanatic about reggae music—it’s just something I grew up with, and I don’t think you have to be Jamaican to know and understand reggae.”

Is there anything you’ve gotten recently that you’re stoked on?

I got this super deep roots record album. I’m obsessed with the underdogs. Artists who had potential, but nobody got it. This group from Jamaica, called Earth and Stone, one of my favorite reggae groups, had an album called Kool Roots that Pressure Sounds reissued. If you find the original pressings, they’re usually cash, especially when you get the singles or a 12-inch, because they were expensive in England.

When I saw other kids doing music, I was like, wow. All I heard back then was “This is a grown man’s thing, a grown man’s sport.” A “you’re too short for this ride” kind of thing. Then I see them doing it and it’s like, they’re kids just like me—if they can do it, I can do it.

You have so many Musical Youth albums. Why is that group so important to you?

When I was introduced to this record, it changed my life. This is the original copy of this album, The Youth of Today, I’ve had since I was about 5. It’s in horrible condition, but obviously, I keep it for sentimental reasons.

They were so talented. The funny thing is, the group formed two sets of brothers, and the drummer and the bassist’s father used to be in The Techniques with Slim Smith and Winston Riley. The father had them play instruments, and he would sing, but it wasn’t a cash cow thing, so he had an idea of turning them into a boy band kind of thing. Then they hired the singer Dennis Seaton, and that’s how Musical Youth formed.

The second album was so trash, but I had to stick with the band as a fan! I play this out many times. I love Musical Youth.

 

 

What are some of your favorite sub-genres or styles of reggae?

One of my nicknames is the Brooklyn Bloke, because I have a nice cool connection with England and stuff like that. One of my favorite sounds is a sound called Saxon; the cool thing about Saxon is they had a lot of talented, talented emcees and singers like Maxi Priest, who started out in Saxon, and Smiley Culture, rest in peace.

 

“Reggae is not on this one little island anymore. There are other people doing it; it’s the same thing, how hip-hop started here, and now the whole world does it.”

What tunes do you play out often, or rarely leave your box?

I play “Village Soul”– this one is pretty cool because you know the soul version, which I also have on 7, so you’ll appreciate this version. I’ll play “Be Thankful For What You Got” by Donovan Carless at Lovers Affair. That’s a party I have with two of my friends, Joseph Demenson and Fidel Twice. I play straight-up UK and Jamaican lovers, but mainly UK stuff because many British people live in New York.

I also have a thing for reggae records that aren’t pressed in Jamaica. I think it’s cool that there are other countries pressing reggae. This is my dad’s record, actually, “Natty Dread in Greenwich Farm.” It was pressed in Barbados. It doesn’t sound great, but it’s a cool song. I play this one a lot.

 

 

Why are you interested in all the different places that press reggae records?

It just goes to show that not everything was happening in Jamaica. And that’s what people need to understand — they feel like everything reggae occurred in Jamaica. You have other countries that were listening to it and playing it. You probably have big sounds out of countries like Barbados, Trinidad, and Grenada, but they’ll never get the recognition because they’re not Jamaican, you know?

For a person who isn’t Jamaican, I feel like it’s cool that other places were pressing reggae and stuff like that.

I’m a fanatic about reggae music—it’s just something I grew up with, and I don’t think you have to be Jamaican to know and understand reggae.

 

“Reggae is much more polished in the UK–they had better recording studios, and also they had sweet harmonies. Like Aswad’s ‘Rainbow Culture,’ this is very pretty and harmonic. Jamaican reggae did not sound like this; UK reggae was much more colorful.”

Right. How many people do you know in the scene who are huge into reggae and aren’t Jamaican?

A lot of ‘em! A lot of them are my friends. That’s why I trip off of things like this; it might seem small to you, but it’s cool to me.

Some veteran Jamaican artists are upset because Jamaicans aren’t necessarily winning the reggae war or whatever. But they need to understand that there’s a reason why singers in reggae music talk about “reggae gon’ international, tell ya reggae gon’ international” – ‘cause it’s international yo! Reggae is not on this one little island anymore. There are other people doing it; it’s the same thing, how hip-hop started here, and now the whole world does it.

I’m a harmony guy, I love harmonies. From time to time, I’ll sing with this band called The Full Watts, and they do a lot of rocksteady numbers. I love harmonies, which is what grabs me in a song, when I hear some smooth harmonies. Aswad had harmonies, man, cool harmonies, and the same thing with Steel Pulse.

Do you have a favorite reggae singer who’s not Jamaican, or from some place you might not expect?

I know a lot of artists in France, such as Pupajim, Junior Roy, and Ras Mac Bean. I even know some coming out of Italy, like Alborosie, who just dropped an album with Beres Hammond and Chronixx on it. There’s a lot out of Brazil, like Junior Dread, and Senior Wilson is from Spain. 

Many reggae artists from different countries are doing their thing; I just DJed for one on Friday at Brooklyn Bowl; she’s a super duper in Argentina, and her name is Alika. I saw the number of people who came out and knew her music word for word. It amazed the shit out of me.

 

 

Can you tell us more about the differences between UK and Jamaican reggae?

Jamaica is a very poor country; the money doesn’t really circulate. So much of the music coming out of Jamaica was from the suffering. You hear the suffering within their voices, it’s more of a struggle kind of vibe, still dope.

UK reggae has many more resources. Even though in these times, it was very difficult to live in England as a black person, because racism was at an all-time high. You had a thing called the Sus Law, which is basically a much more aggressive version of stop and frisk, where you could just be doing your own thing, and police, without any evidence or anything, would have them say, “I’m gonna take you in.”

Reggae is much more polished in the UK–they had better recording studios, and also they had sweet harmonies. Like Aswad’s “Rainbow Culture,” this is very pretty and harmonic. Jamaican reggae did not sound like this; UK reggae was much more colorful.

Who are your favorite vocal groups?

The Mighty Diamonds, Heptones, Earth and Stone, Matumbi, Aswad.

 

 

I want to know more about other genres you’re into, and genres that speak to you beyond reggae. Things you wish people would ask you to play out more.

I feel like, because of what I can do, I always loop back to reggae. There’s a story about this album, Arthur Verocai; I’ve been looking for this album since 2005, and there was this Brazilian record store called Tropicalia in Furs. I saw this record, an OG pressing for like $700–I was like, “Yeah, well…nah.”

Then fast forward to 2017. I’m in Montreal at this record store and, boom, I see this. It’s a limited reissue from Brazil, I think they pressed like 200. I spent like $15.

 

 

You’re also into producers, right? Are there any non-reggae producers that you’re super into?

You can’t go wrong with Quincy Jones, man, that guy is a genius.

 

 

What’s up with those albums hanging on the wall over there?  

To me, it’s kind of the trinity of really good music, iconic music, and people who changed the game.

The Beatles, come on; Michael Jackson, genius; Bob Marley, genius; Prince, who is personally my guy.

Michael Jackson was an entertainer; he could dance, sing, and entertain you, but Prince was writing his music, producing his own music, and on his first few albums, he played all the instruments. He was an amazing guitar player. The guy was a prodigy—the music quality and songwriting are out of this world. Michael Jackson didn’t write much of his music; he had to send for other writers like Rod Temperton, the keyboard player of a group called Heatwave, and he wrote Off The Wall and Thriller.  

I won’t take anything away from Michael Jackson, though. The guy is a genius, but Prince is more my guy.

 

 

Do you have a comfort record, one you can put on that makes you feel good no matter what?

I do. Donald Byrd, Stepping Into Tomorrow.  I can listen to this thing all the way through and just get vibes. I like jazz, but I like jazz fusion more when it’s fused to funk and soul. I’m not too into the traditional stuff. I like something with excitement; I feel like this record has excitement. To me, anything Blue Note is like money.

I’m surprised that your comfort record isn’t a reggae record.

Yeah. Here’s my theory on that: as much as I love reggae, and I love reggae, too much of one thing is not good for anybody. You’ve got to have everything in moderation. I’d personally lose my mind if I only listened to reggae all the time. Good music is good music, and I got lucky to grow up in a house where I heard all kinds of music, not just reggae.

I’m also a huge hip-hop head, and De La Soul is my favorite hip-hop group. These dudes… they’re the reason why I got the peace tattoo sign. I got this when I was like 21. Hearing them, it was just more assuring for me that it was cool to be yourself.

 

 

Desmond, what’s your comfort record?

Desmond: A Taste of Honey, “Sukiyaki.” I like it for a lot of reasons. It was originally a Japanese song by Kyu Sakamoto. It reminds me of when I was growing up, and I used to be in the sound system. This is one of my girlfriend’s tunes; my first girlfriend loved this song.

Jonny: I actually have a reggae version of that song.

 

 

So why the name Jonny Go Figure?

There are a lot of answers to that. I usually tell people it’s like I’m not the easiest book to read. But truth be told, when I lived on East 21st Street in Flatbush, my neighbors were twin brothers, and I often ran with them. One of them worked for Russell Simmons at the time, and I was kind of chillin’ with them, being like a little bratty kid, and something he would always say was “go figure.”

He was working on putting out a website for like subculture material and underground type shit and he didn’t know what to call it and I was like, “You might as well call it gofigure.com ” and he was like, yo that’s cool.

So I make beats or whatever, and he needed some beats for the website and said, “I’m gonna make you like the social director for the website.” His name was Steve, and he was Stevie Go Figure, and I was Jonny Go Figure. But I didn’t really start using it until I started doing my own music.

 

 

Who would you like to see next on Dust & Grooves?

I strongly want to see Grace of Spades and Jah Wise—their collections are out of this world!

 

Jonny Go Figure is a reggae mastermind who runs Bent Backs Records, curates Vinyl Lover Chronicles, and does live sets at Dub-Stuy. He is a member of Megative, a New York-based reggae and dub group.

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Edited by Sam Cohen 06/07/25

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