“I’m simply rediscovering the rhythm of daily life,” Louis Kevin Celestin—globally recognized as Kaytranada—shares during a quiet February evening. “It feels as though I’ve been inhabiting a tour bus for an eternity.”
Following a grueling 2025 itinerary that surpassed 60 dates, including a high-octane arena run alongside French electronic legends Justice, the Montreal-born virtuoso is finally decompressing. In the comfort of his hometown, he’s spent his downtime reconnecting with family and embracing his new role as an uncle.
Yet, even Kaytranada’s “quiet periods” are steeped in prestige. This past February, he marked a pair of Grammy nods for his 2025 effort Ain’t No Damn Way! by hosting an exclusive gala with PinkPantheress. While he didn’t add to his trophy case that evening, the event served as a celebration of a decade-long ascent that has seen him garner ten nominations and two wins since 2021.
Now, Celestin is pivoting back to the studio. With a desire to emulate the prolific output of the artists he admires, he’s already laying the groundwork for his fifth solo LP. We caught up with the producer to discuss his creative evolution, the nuances of the “Kaytranada sound,” and why he views his discography as a living document of his journey.
It has been several months since you wrapped your last tour. How has this period of stillness treated you?
I’ve reached a point where I’m incredibly eager to dive into the next chapter. I want to shift away from the idea that an album needs to be this monolithic, years-long undertaking. Historically, artists would release music every nine to twelve months, and I find that frequency inspiring. I’m currently finding my creative stride again after a month of just existing, with the goal of having something substantial ready by next year.
Is there a specific sonic palette or direction you’re gravitating toward for this next project?
I’m looking to deconstruct my process. I want to revisit the headspace I was in when I first started making beats—almost like a conversation with my younger self. It’s about taking everything I’ve learned over the last decade and applying it to that raw, initial energy. It feels like a sonic time machine.
That’s interesting, especially considering 99.9% is reaching its ten-year milestone. When you revisit that debut now, do you view it through a critical lens?
Honestly? I’d probably change 99.9% of it! [Laughs]. I don’t look back with regret, but my technical approach has evolved so much. That album was a collage of ideas I had been tinkering with for years; by the time it dropped, I was just relieved it was finished. That’s actually where the title came from—it was “99.9% done” for the longest time.
Despite your own critiques, that record is now a blueprint for modern electronic music. Do you recognize your influence in the current landscape?
I do see it. At that time, I felt completely untethered by industry rules. I was blending house with hip-hop and R&B in a way that felt natural to me, inspired by projects like MSTRKRFT’s Fist Of God. I wanted to filter those club elements through an urban lens. People call it the “Kaytranada sound” now, which is flattering but also a bit surreal. I was just a fan trying to fuse all the genres I loved into one sophisticated swagger.
Does having a “signature sound” ever feel restrictive? Does it push you to reinvent yourself to avoid being pigeonholed?
There is definitely a tension there. When I produce for others, they often demand that “classic” sound, and then critics say I’m repeating myself. That’s why Ain’t No Damn Way! was so important. It was a compilation of instrumentals and “beat tape” style tracks that had been sitting in my archives since the Bubba and Timeless eras. I wanted to showcase my roots as a hip-hop head, inspired by the prolific outputs of J Dilla and Madlib.
You’ve become a Grammy staple over the last few years. How has that level of institutional recognition altered your perspective?
I never imagined the Recording Academy would even notice me. Winning for Bubba was a massive validation; it made the profession feel “real” in a way it hadn’t before. Moving to Los Angeles amplified that. In Montreal, I’m a local celebrity, which can be intense. In L.A., I’m among peers. It keeps me humble. It’s the difference between playing street ball and getting drafted into the NBA.
Your 2025 tour with Justice was a massive milestone. What was the dynamic like between two different generations of electronic pioneers?
It was a huge honor. I’ve always held the Ed Banger roster in the highest regard. To be honest, we are all quite reserved, so there was just a lot of mutual, quiet respect. The Justice crew, however, are absolute professionals at partying. They had a portable DJ rig for after-parties every single night. I bonded with Gaspard over those sets, while Xavier tends to be a bit more low-key. It was a beautiful experience.
Arenas can often feel cold or detached. How did you ensure your set felt intimate in such massive spaces?
I was initially apprehensive about arenas. My team designed a floating stage that sat in the heart of the room to bridge that gap. I wanted to transform these massive structures into a giant house party. I took a lot of inspiration from Tiësto’s early 2000s stadium shows—there’s a specific energy to those massive crowds that you have to lean into.
With so much success behind you, do you feel an internal pressure to constantly outdo your previous work?
I used to agonize over that. But now, I view my albums as documentation. Timeless was a different beast—more R&B, less club-focused. It didn’t have the same immediate reception as Bubba, but it was an honest reflection of where I was at the time. I look at someone like Prince; he released Parade, Lovesexy, and the Black Album in such short succession. It was just a chronicle of his life. If people want to come along for the ride, that’s great. If they prefer the old stuff, it’s still there. I’m just moving forward.
