• Yohaan Rajapakse on the role of a music producer and his vision for Sri Lankan hip-hop

When it comes to music, audiences tend to fall in love with the person holding the microphone. The person they see on stage or hear on the radio. 

Yet behind every voice we know, and every rhythm and track that enters our memory, sits a slew of other creatives who make that final song what it is. Chief among them are music producers. They sit at the point where sound is shaped, where intention becomes structure, and where raw talent finds direction. 

Yohaan Rajapakse has lived through every part of that process, from the excitement of early 2000s rock to pioneering Sinhala and Tamil hip-hop, to building one of the country’s largest commercial production catalogues. 

After more than a decade away from our shores, Yohaan has returned to Sri Lankan music with a vision – to harness the potential and ambition of young artists (especially hip-hop artists), and to provide the structural support needed to turn talent into impact.

Building the Sri Lankan bass

While Yohaan’s name might not be instantly recognisable, if you have listened to Sri Lankan music over the last 20 years, you would probably have heard his work. 

Yohaan’s story begins in the early 2000s, a golden era for Sri Lankan rock. As part of the band Ezra (where he played bassist), Yohaan and his crew became household names after winning the TNL Onstage competition in 2002. 

He soon joined BNS’s first band, before discovering his real home wasn’t on stage but behind the mixing desk. One of his most famous works is BNS’s ‘Hoiya Hoiya.’ 

He also produced Sri Lanka’s first drum and bass track with Ranidu, broke ground with B.K.’s pioneering hip-hop album ‘It’s Real,’ and created the country’s first R&B Tamil album with Krishan Maheson. 

Outside of creating original music, Yohaan worked with Ranga Dasanayake at the Hit Factory Audio production house. He has produced over a thousand commercials and even designed a digital production course that trained a new generation of producers.

The role of a music producer

Like many musicians, Yohaan’s love of music began in school, from church choirs to school choirs and competitions. 

His first proper introduction to the wider music scene came through Billy Fernando, who invited him for a gig that exposed him to the scale and unpredictability of performing outside a school environment. This led to forming the band Ezra, which propelled him to a new world with TNL Onstage.

Ezra marked the point where he began to see music as something larger than performance. Producers and musicians were looking for ways to integrate digital production into their work. Sri Lanka was at the edge of a technological shift.

“I started telling everyone I wanted to learn digital production,” he recalled. “I saw how things worked and I wanted to know about this art. I couldn’t play every kind of instrument, but digital software made things easier.” 

He describes a producer’s role as part composer, part engineer, part mediator. Some artists walk in with melodies. Some arrive with references and ask for a sound that sits between a few global influences. Others turn up with only a voice and a desire to make something. The producer fills in the gaps. 

“If someone has the melody, I shape everything around it. If someone has nothing, I take it from the ground up. Every project is different,” Yohaan said.

Returning to Lankan music after a hiatus

By 2006, Yohaan had built a strong body of work. He had also met the woman he would marry. He left the country, focused on family and work abroad, and allowed music to fade into the background. 

When he finally returned in 2019, the landscape had changed. Streaming had decentralised music consumption. Listeners no longer relied on radio charts. Artists could release a song on Instagram or TikTok and get attention overnight. 

“What we thought was unique then is normal now,” he said. “Everything was open. Anyone could produce. Anyone could release. That shift is a good thing, but it also means many young artists grow without structure.”

Instead of returning to production immediately, he entered audio-related education with Dasanayake. He also took on podcast work, cleaning and editing lecture recordings for professors and clients. It was steady work, but something felt unfinished.

A turning point came at an event. He heard one of his old tracks being played. Someone recognised it. He realised he still had a connection to a space he had stepped away from for more than a decade. 

Around the same time, he met Billy Fernando again, who encouraged him to return. “That moment put me on a different path,” Yohaan said. “I felt something open again.”

Today, his return is intentional. He has finished several tracks and launched a small label that will grow once he finalises a roster of new artists. Instead of chasing established voices, he is focusing on emerging talent. 

He wants to work with at least one hundred artists, especially those who have raw potential but lack direction or understanding of how to build a long-term career. “We don’t lack talent. We lack vision and identity,” Yohaan said. “That’s where I want to contribute.”

Taking Lankan hip-hop to new heights

One of the anchor themes of his return is identity, especially in relation to Sri Lankan hip-hop. He has watched Sinhala hip-hop grow into a space with strong lyrical presence, better visual execution, and a dedicated audience. English hip-hop, in contrast, has lost momentum. 

“There was a time when people abroad recognised the uniqueness of what we were producing,” he said. “Now, our work often sounds like any Eastern track. We have lost a clear sonic identity.”

He compared this to how India and South Korea had positioned their music industries. K-pop, for instance, is built on a distinct sound palette, rhythmic structure, and visual identity that is instantly recognisable. Indian pop and film music, especially in Tamil and Hindi cinema, follow similar recognisable patterns. 

“We have instruments, rhythms, and tonalities that belong to us,” he said. “But we rarely hear them in the music coming out today. That is where a future identity can come from.”

This leads to the question of what defines Sri Lankan hip-hop today. Yohaan believes the heart of Sinhala hip-hop is now grounded in relatable writing and rhythmic familiarity. People recognise themselves in the stories. The sound sits comfortably against the backdrop of local listening habits, where audiences respond strongly to Sinhala language music. 

He also noted that modern production tools had helped younger producers achieve clean, dynamic mixes without needing high-end studios. The problem, he argued, was not quality but intention. “Many artists can make good tracks. The question is whether they are building towards something or making one strong song and stopping there.”

Another theme that comes up repeatedly in conversation with Yohaan is education. Not formal qualifications, but the foundational knowledge needed to converse with musicians, perform on international stages, and collaborate with experienced industry professionals. 

“When you don’t know your basics, you get intimidated,” he said. “I didn’t like music theory when I was young. I was forced to learn it when I left Sri Lanka. That changed everything.”

He stressed that artists did not need to follow traditional musical structures, but they should understand them. “If you want to go beyond Sri Lanka, you need to know your craft. You need to be able to stand next to other musicians and not feel lost.”

Becoming a truly international artist

This international perspective is central to his vision for the future. Yohaan wants young artists to see performance as something that does not end at local shows or Sri Lankan festivals. He sees opportunities in India, Malaysia, and other regional markets. 

He wants to build a pipeline where artists move between countries, collaborate with producers abroad, and carry a distinct Sri Lankan identity with them. “Anyone can upload a song. Going on stage elsewhere is different. That is where identity matters.”

Yohaan believes many young artists today get caught in the second question before answering the first. They think about marketing before understanding their product. They worry about their audience before knowing their sound. 

Instead, he encouraged artists to start with what they already had. “If you sing, keep singing. If you write, keep writing. That is what brings the right people to you.”

For Yohaan, returning to the industry also means changing something in his own approach. For years, he stayed behind the scenes. He took little credit for his work. He allowed others to take the spotlight. That choice, he reflected, came with consequences. 

“I have lost copyright and money by not being willing to put myself out there,” he said. “This time, I want people to know my name and my work. Identity matters for producers too.”

He sees a gap in the industry that goes beyond musical skills. It includes the ability to navigate personalities, expectations, and the pressures of performance. Some artists, he noted, thought only about the art and forgot that the art became a product once released. 

They need mentoring to understand how to present themselves, communicate professionally, and take responsibility for their careers. “You have to talk to people. You have to be present. These are things artists don’t always get taught.”

Making a home for emerging artists

While he presently works with artists as a freelance producer, Yohaan hopes to soon launch his own label focusing on empowering emerging artists in alternative genres. His label, once fully operational, will focus on this entire chain – production, mentoring, artist development, and guiding performers towards international opportunities. 

He is already working with several underground rappers and young vocalists, some of whom he found through TikTok and Instagram. His recent releases include collaborations with Lil Enza, KillerB, and Dr Khan. These tracks are stepping stones. The real work, he shared, would begin once he gathers a larger group of emerging artists.

Yohaan’s return comes at a time when Sri Lankan music is shifting again. Artificial Intelligence (AI) tools are becoming common in production. He has a practical view of this. “AI is a good tool. The question is how you use it,” he said. 

He believes AI should not replace foundational knowledge. Instead, it should assist producers who understand music at a deeper level. “If AI does the work, then where is your identity? Where is your craft?”

He often reflects on the early days of BNS, Ranidu, Ashanthi, and others who created music with a clear personality. He recalls how A.R. Rahman once recognised the uniqueness of their sound, reaching out to inquire about their production. “Somewhere along the way, that identity faded,” he said. “We need to build it again.”

In listening to Yohaan speak, one senses someone who has lived through several cycles of Sri Lankan music. The rise of rock. The birth of hip-hop. The explosion of digital production. The shifts brought on by streaming. The uncertainty of post-Covid performance culture. He has seen artists rise, stall, and reinvent themselves. What he offers now is not nostalgia, but perspective.

He believes Sri Lanka has everything it needs to build a music industry with global reach. What the country lacks is a clear sense of direction, a unified commitment to identity, and a willingness to step onto larger platforms. His next chapter is shaped around filling that gap, not with hype, but with structure and experience.

“We have the talent,” Yohaan said. “What we need is intention.” For him, intention looks like a new generation of artists who understand their craft, who know how to present themselves, who carry Sri Lankan identity into their music, and who recognise the value of mentorship. It looks like producers who guide rather than dictate. It looks like artists who are ready to perform outside the country, not as guests, but as peers.