We recently connected with Nedric Armstrong and have shared our conversation below.

Nedric, looking forward to hearing all of your stories today. It’s always helpful to hear about times when someone’s had to take a risk – how did they think through the decision, why did they take the risk, and what ended up happening. We’d love to hear about a risk you’ve taken.

Coming out of college with a degree in music business, I had what a lot of people might call a “perfect start.” I’d worked my way into some solid internships, networked like crazy, and survived my fair share of unpaid gigs just to get my foot in the door. Eventually, that work paid off—I landed interviews, then offers, from two well-known record labels in L.A. On paper, it was everything I thought I wanted: the chance to be behind the scenes of big-name tours, album launches, branding campaigns. The kind of stuff I used to dream about.

But when the offers came in, I didn’t feel excited. I felt… uneasy. It was this strange gut feeling, like I was about to hand over my creativity to help someone else live out theirs. I couldn’t shake it.

That’s when I realized—I’d spent years learning how to navigate the music industry, but what I really wanted was to create within it. I didn’t want to just help build someone else’s brand—I wanted to build my own.

At the same time, I was doing all these side projects—DJing on campus and frat parties, producing music late night with the homies, throwing together small events for local talent. Those moments felt real. The energy, the people, the chaos—it was unfiltered and exciting. So, in a decision that felt both bold and borderline irresponsible, I turned down the job offers, a law school in Arkansas, and told my family I was going my own way.

I moved from the beach back to South Central to save money and started grinding. I took whatever gigs I could—interior design, tradeshow, art shows—and began putting together my own events that blended music, culture, and community. I used everything I’d learned in school—marketing, budgeting, planning—but I also trusted my gut. I wasn’t just promoting shows; I was trying to create and join spaces that felt different. That felt honest.

It definitely wasn’t glamorous. I’ve slept on floors, maxed out credit cards, and thrown events where the turnout was… humbling. But I’ve also watched a room full of strangers go quiet for a poetry set. I’ve seen artists meet at one of my events and go on to collaborate. I’ve even witnessed my work played at a festivals and gain a Grammy. Those moments remind me why I took the risk.

No, I didn’t find instant success. But I found something better: ownership. Of my time, my creativity, my vision. It was messy, unpredictable, and sometimes exhausting—but I wouldn’t trade the experience. Like ole boy from “Get Him to the Greek”, I realized the journey isn’t about the chaos—it’s about staying true to what moves you, even when the “safer” path looks a lot easier.

Awesome – so before we get into the rest of our questions, can you briefly introduce yourself to our readers.

For those who don’t know me yet — I go by TraeNed, and I’m not just a DJ. I’m a music curator, event sound designer, and lighting specialist. I build experiences through sound and light — the kind that move crowds, elevate events, and leave people saying “Yo, that was different.”

My journey into music and event production started like a lot of passion-fueled careers do — with curiosity, hustle, and a lot of hours spent figuring things out on my own. I started off renting out sound systems and MCing parties in high school with my close friend Elliot professionally known as Elz The DJ.

I got to college thinking my partying days had ended. With the money I made from hustling and playing tuba for the USC Marching Band, I started investing in PA systems and music production equipment. DJing started in my dorm room, then to small gatherings on campus, and then eventually to large parties off campus, learning to read a room and keep the energy right. But I quickly realized I wasn’t just passionate about playing music — I was passionate about how it was heard, where it was heard, and how it looked and felt in the space.

Once I graduated and decided not pursue jobs touring with record labels, my time for djing, music and event production evaporated. By word of mouth, I found myself in Hollywood opening for big names in EDM off the sunset strip. It didn’t last long as I found the scene and musical programming repetitive. After 2 years out the scene, my good college friend Vita convinced a upcoming curator and DJ Earry Hall to bring me back into the fold. He began to include me as opener in his “TGIM” (Thank God Its Monday) events weekly.

That led me into the world of event production — specifically sound design and lighting. I wanted to offer more than just a playlist. I wanted to offer a full sensory experience.

I’m the Operations Directors for AIS Inc., a Production Management company that specialize in the very lighting and sound design I’ve always dreamed of creating and implementing.

Now I handle full-scale sound production for events — from clean, crisp speaker setups to mic routing for panels, live performers, or multi-zone sound environments. I make sure every word, every beat, every moment is heard the way it’s meant to be.

Whether it’s uplighting for an elegant wedding, intelligent lighting for a high-energy dance floor, or custom mood lighting for brand activations — I bring events to life visually as well as sonically.

When I DJ, I create one-of-a-kind audio mixes for brands, content creators, dance teams, and fitness instructors — all tailored to mood, tempo, and purpose.

Learning and unlearning are both critical parts of growth – can you share a story of a time when you had to unlearn a lesson?

One lesson I had to unlearn was thinking I had to say “yes” to everything to succeed. Early on, I thought every gig was a step forward — even if it didn’t feel right, didn’t pay much, or left me burned out. I was afraid that saying “no” meant missing out.

But over time, I realized that always being busy wasn’t the same as actually growing. Some of those opportunities were distractions, not building blocks. I had to learn that it’s okay to be selective — to choose gigs that align with my goals, my value, and the kind of energy I want to bring. Once I made that shift, everything started to feel more focused, more intentional… and honestly, more fulfilling

In your view, what can society to do to best support artists, creatives and a thriving creative ecosystem?

If society really wants to support artists and a thriving creative ecosystem, it needs to stop romanticizing the “struggling artist” narrative — and start holding both audiences and institutions accountable.

Too often, society claims to love art while undervaluing the artist. People will drop hundreds on tech, fashion, or food but flinch at paying a fair price for original work. We expect creatives to love what they do so much that we forget it’s labor — often skilled, time-consuming, and self-funded labor.

We don’t always want to work for free or ” for the love”; Passion doesn’t excuse exploitation.

We need stop promoting “if you’re good , you’ll get discovered”

And lastly we need start challenging the consumer mindset; If people truly care about creativity, they need to engage beyond consumption. That means learning the process, crediting sources, advocating for arts funding.

Contact Info:

• Website: https://ned.life
• Instagram: @traened
• Linkedin: https://www.linkedin.com/in/ned-t-armstrong-5a2b1096
• Soundcloud: https://soundcloud.com/traened

Image Credits

Benjamin Chua, Khoren Lawson, Aaron Anderson