Long Nights, Strong Lyrics: The Poetic Journey of Adam Dixon

Written by Mary King, UNC ’22, Hussman School of Journalism and Media

On weeknights before the pandemic, UNC-Chapel Hill students would migrate away from the mid-campus academic buildings – flocking northward to bustling Franklin Street in search of fun, or southward to their dorms in search of peace and quiet.

Not Adam Dixon, though.

With his heaping load of schoolwork in tow, the political science major would make his way to the campus audio lab. There, in the basement of the Undergraduate Library, the resident adviser and Dean’s List student channeled his relentless work ethic into another identity: AuD, a rapper and singer who penned verses, spawned beats and spat bars – sometimes until the sun came up.

These long nights have culminated in a vibrant discography that has continued to expand this winter, even as Dixon balanced his musical endeavors with law school applications and his final semester of college.

Now, the 21-year-old is promoting his latest two singles: “Broad Broad Day” and “Long Ride,” both of which were produced by Jamla Records’ Mu’aath Fullenweider, a fellow UNC alumnus.

Though Dixon wrote “Long Ride” over two years ago, he says its release during COVID-19 is fit for the times. Even as today’s listeners face harrowing circumstances, the feel-good track invites them to momentarily put aside their stress and take refuge in the simple things.

“Just thinking about getting in a car and just driving somewhere, anywhere,” Dixon said, describing the imagery in his lyrics. “And just listening to music and feeling good about yourself in that moment, in that time.”

But in “Broad Broad Day,” Dixon tackles the grave realities of the past year head-on – lamenting police brutality, racial injustice and the disproportionate effect of COVID-19 on Black communities in the U.S.

“I really wanted to capture the essence of the summer of 2020 for me. That’s what this song really did for me,” Dixon said. “I was trying to capture sadness, I was trying to capture anger, anxiety, just a lot of the emotions that were running high through me and through society over the summer.”

Dixon’s lyrical wordplay carries unmistakable influence from the time he spent as president of UNC Cypher. Before the pandemic hit, the student organization would convene each Wednesday night at 9:25 p.m. to freestyle rap outside, blasting hip-hop instrumentals just feet away from the audio lab where Dixon spent so many of his evenings.

For the burgeoning rapper, these weekly gatherings were a vital training ground.

“It’s definitely improved my abilities to rap, tenfold, a thousand-fold, ten thousand-fold – just being out there, rapping in front of people,” Dixon said.

Performing for passersby and his fellow rappers each Wednesday honed his public speaking: an essential skill for law school, the next step of his academic career. Dixon hopes to use his legal education to “give back” to communities of color. And with hard-hitting tracks like “Broad Broad Day,” Dixon isn’t waiting until he takes the bar exam to start advocating for the systemically disadvantaged.

Even in his Cypher freestyling, Dixon would sometimes discuss racial injustice in his improvised lyrics.

“But other times, I would just say stupid stuff, like, ‘I skipped class today,’ even though I actually didn’t,” he said.

Although the pandemic halted Cypher’s 9:25 sessions, Dixon and several of his fellow artists have kept making music together. They meet on Zoom, send demos back and forth, and offer feedback on each other’s projects, including Dixon’s new singles. In Cypher’s characteristic playful spirit, they nag each other into being productive.

“‘When’s your next single dropping? When’s your next project dropping?’ And they’ll be like, ‘Well, never, because you don’t work on it,’” Dixon said.

Among this group of collaborators is rapper, producer, and UNC junior Justis Malker, Cypher’s vice president and treasurer. Malker says he finds Dixon’s vocal delivery particularly captivating.

“In everything that he sings, you can tell the exact emotion that he wrote that particular line or verse in, whether it’s anger, sadness, an abundance of love, caution,” Malker said.

Some vocalists initially discover their gift in school choruses or private lessons. Dixon found it around his house. He would sing to himself whatever was on the radio: from Bruno Mars to Stevie Wonder to Usher, all of whose influences are apparent in Dixon’s baritone croon and agile riffs.

Meanwhile, as a high schooler, he’d watch his classmates freestyle rap on the bus. Dixon joined in – but for him, the music didn’t stop when he stepped off the vehicle. At home, he ventured into writing and producing. Once he finished his schoolwork, he’d open his laptop, string together a beat, and spend the weekend making music.

“For me, when I started writing, it was from a place of tragedy and pain, really,” Dixon said.

Sometimes, global-scale events would push him to compose, such as the 2016 terrorist attack in Nice, France. Other times, it would be troubles closer to home, like a classmate’s death or a friend’s incarceration.

“I just felt moved to put what I was feeling in my head onto a paper in the form of rap or poetry,” Dixon said.

As he kept writing, he expanded his subject matter into self-discovery – a theme that saturates his January 2020 debut album, “Stoic: The Journey.” Dixon says his new singles showcase his artistic growth in the year that has passed since that album drop: They’re catchier and more accessible, and they “just sound better.”

With several collaborative projects on the horizon – including an album with Malker covering the Black experience in America and around the world – Dixon aims to keep releasing music and developing his talent.

As the pandemic rages on and law school looms ahead, Dixon will no longer spend his evenings hunkering down in the basement of the Undergraduate Library or spawning verses in the Pit.

But in his work going forward, the influence of these years will always be visible – whether in the courtroom or in the recording studio.

 

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