To start making boom-bap beats, you'll need a DAW. Popular choices include Ableton Live, FL Studio, and Logic Pro. Each has its own strengths, so it's worth exploring each to see which one feels most comfortable for you.
Rather than complex sub-bass, Jay recommends:
To learn directly from Jay Cactus, I recommend:
Se quiser, eu converto isso em um manuscrito formatado (introdução, métodos, resultados, discussão) com 1.500–3.000 palavras ou em versão curta (800–1.000 palavras).
Conclusão
A arte do boom-bap é um estilo que exige habilidade e criatividade para criar algo novo e original. Com este tutorial, você aprendeu como criar uma batida de boom-bap inspirada no estilo de Jay Cactus. Lembre-se de que a prática leva à perfeição, então continue produzindo e aprimorando suas habilidades. E quem sabe, talvez você seja o próximo grande produtor de hip-hop!
Referências
Recursos Adicionais
Espero que você tenha gostado deste artigo! Se você tiver alguma dúvida ou quiser compartilhar suas próprias experiências com a produção de hip-hop, sinta-se à vontade para deixar um comentário abaixo.
Jay Cactus: A Arte do Boom-Bap -Tutorial- Mastering the "Art of Boom-Bap" requires more than just high-quality samples; it demands a deep understanding of the rhythmic "swing" and gritty textures that defined the golden era of hip-hop. Producer Jay Cactus, renowned for his influence in the UK Drill scene, has expanded his educational reach with The Art of Boom Bap, a comprehensive 2.5-hour video course dedicated to this timeless genre. The Foundation: Setting the Tempo and Vibe
Authentic Boom-Bap typically thrives within a specific BPM range to maintain its characteristic "head-nod" factor.
Tempo Range: Aim for 70 to 100 BPM. For a darker, underground feel reminiscent of Mobb Deep or Griselda, producers like Jay Cactus often settle around 75 to 80 BPM.
Melodic Tension: Start with dark, dissonant chords, often using a minor scale like D Minor. To add realism, slightly adjust note timing and randomize velocities to mimic a live pianist. The "Boom" and the "Bap": Drum Mastery Jay Cactus A Arte do Boom-Bap -Tutorial-
The heart of the genre lies in its drum patterns. Jay Cactus emphasizes that picking the right sounds from the start is more important than layering endless plugins.
The Secret of Swing: In FL Studio, use the swing parameter to move notes slightly off the grid, giving the drums that sought-after "human" feel.
The Layering Trick: A classic technique used by legends like DJ Premier is layering a vinyl drum break with modern one-shot samples. The break provides the organic texture and groove, while the one-shots deliver the "knock" and punch needed for modern speakers.
Hi-Hat Drag: Shift every other hi-hat slightly to create a "dragging" effect rather than a robotic, perfectly timed rhythm. Sampling and Textures
To achieve an authentic sound, producers often flip samples from jazz, soul, or funk records.
Chop and Flip: Use tools like Serato Sample or stock plugins to find interesting sections, then manipulate the pitch and tempo to fit your track.
Adding Grit: Incorporate atmospheric textures—vinyl crackle, foley sounds, or pitched-up vocal phrases—to fill the space behind the main melody.
Basslines: Use one-shot samples of an upright or electric bass guitar. Ensure the "hold" on your ADSR envelope is long enough to let the notes resonate naturally. Arrangement and Mixing for Lyricists
Boom-Bap is traditionally minimal to allow room for a rapper's performance. How To Actually Make Boom Bap Beats (Full Walkthrough)
Jay Cactus "The Art of Boom Bap" tutorial is an extensive production course designed to teach artists how to create timeless, authentic boom-bap beats from scratch. It focuses on blending traditional '90s East Coast influences with modern techniques used by contemporary artists like Benny the Butcher Conway the Machine Westside Gunn The Production Story: Crafting the Beat
The tutorial follows a structured workflow to build a gritty, underground sound: How To Make Dark Boom Bap Beats From Scratch In FL Studio
In the gray, rain-slicked streets of East London, where the hum of the Tube bled into the static of a hundred streaming services, lived a producer known only as Jay Cactus. To the outside world, he was a ghost—a username on beat battle leaderboards, a silhouette in a hoodie on a grainy YouTube thumbnail. But to the thousands of subscribers who clicked on "Jay Cactus | A Arte do Boom-Bap | Tutorial," he was a high priest. To start making boom-bap beats, you'll need a DAW
The tutorial video always started the same way: the soft crackle of a dusty record, the glow of an old MPC, and his hands—tattooed, deliberate—hovering over the pads.
But this story isn't about the tutorial itself. It’s about the night before he filmed it.
Jay had hit a wall. Not the creative kind, but the soul-crushing, rent-due, motherboard-fried kind. His laptop—a relic held together by electrical tape—had blue-screened for the last time. In the silence of his flat, the only thing louder than the absence of music was the drip from a leaky radiator. He had three days to deliver a video that would pay for his mother's hospital transport, and zero tools to make it.
Desperate, he took the only thing of value he owned: a shoebox of vinyl his late uncle had left him. Uncle Theo wasn't a musician; he was a market stall runner in the 90s who traded in broken stereos and forgotten records. Most were scratched beyond play. But one, a Brazilian pressing from 1973, had a sleeve so worn it felt like velvet.
At the charity shop, the owner—a sour woman with glasses on a chain—offered him £4 for the whole box. Jay was about to say yes when the shop's ancient radio crackled. A Pirate station. A familiar, dusty loop. It was a beat he had made, sampled from a Chet Baker record, currently being freestyled over by a kid in Hackney. The sour woman tapped her foot. Unconsciously.
Jay pulled the box back. "Changed my mind."
That night, without a laptop, he did something he hadn't done since he was fifteen. He wired the broken speaker from his TV into a battery-powered radio, took a rusty contact mic, and pressed the needle of an old suitcase turntable onto that Brazilian vinyl. The sound that came out wasn't clean. It was warped, hissy, full of the ghost of carnival brass and a woman laughing in Portuguese.
He recorded it on his phone's voice memo app, holding the device against the speaker grille like a doctor listening for a heartbeat.
The next morning, he borrowed a friend's broken Chromebook. It could only run a free, decade-old audio editor. No grids. No quantize. No plugins. Just scissors, glue, and volume.
He chopped the Brazilian laugh. He reversed the brass. He found a single bar of a bassline that sounded like a sigh. Then he built the drums. Not from a pack. From a recording of himself tapping a cardboard box, a spoon on a coffee mug, and his own finger-snap. He time-stretched it all by ear, dragging waveforms with a trackpad that had a hairline crack.
By midnight, the beat was done. It didn't swing. It limped. It had the gait of a man who’d walked through broken glass and kept going. He called it "Favela do Vento" — Slum of the Wind.
He filmed the tutorial the next day, not on a fancy camera, but on the same phone. He didn't show plugins or MIDI grids. He showed the crack in the Chromebook screen. He showed the spoon. He showed the voice memo of the Brazilian woman laughing, and how he turned her joy into a melancholic chop. Se quiser, eu converto isso em um manuscrito
"When you have nothing," he said into the mic, his voice hoarse from coffee and lack of sleep, "you find the rhythm in the rust. That’s the arte of boom-bap. Not perfection. Authenticity."
He uploaded it. Within a week, the tutorial had half a million views. Producers in Tokyo messaged him about the "spoon technique." A label in São Paulo offered to clear the original Brazilian sample. And his mother? She got her transport.
But the real story—the one you won't find in the video description—is what happened after. One night, a month later, Jay Cactus was walking home past that charity shop. The sour woman was locking up. She called out to him.
"Oi. That beat on your video. The laugh."
He froze.
"My mother," she said, her voice suddenly small. "That's her laughing. On that record. She died when I was nine. I sold her things because I couldn't bear to look at them. I never thought…" She trailed off, then handed him a sealed envelope. "I found the rest of her collection. In the attic. Take it. No charge."
Inside the envelope was a photo. The woman from the vinyl, young, grinning, holding a microphone in a Rio studio, 1973. On the back, in faded ink: "For my daughter. Dance when I'm gone."
Jay didn't make a beat that night. He just sat on his floor, surrounded by a dead laptop, a cracked Chromebook, and a box of ghosts. And for the first time, he realized: boom-bap isn't a genre. It's a heartbeat you refuse to let flatline.
The next tutorial he filmed was simply called "The Laugh." He never revealed the sample source. Some secrets, he learned, are not for chopping. They're for keeping.
Jay opens by explaining the cultural and sonic hallmarks of boom-bap: unquantized drums, pitched-down vocal snippets, prominent kicks and snares, and a “warm, dusty” frequency profile. He emphasizes that the genre is about feel over perfection.
Sampling is a crucial part of creating boom-bap music. Look for soul, jazz, or funk records that have the kind of vibe you're going for. Websites like Soundsmiths, Apollo Sound, and even YouTube channels dedicated to providing free samples can be great resources.
O Pocket é o espaço entre a kick e a snare. Se o sample e a bateria estiverem perfeitamente na grade, não há pocket. Arrraste a camada do sample alguns ticks para trás (late) ou para frente. O beat precisa balançar, não marchar.