

"Making money was never the reason College Music was founded. "From day one, Jonny and I have always been about sharing music from undiscovered artists that we both love," he says.

But College Music turns those propositions down, because it'd violate the outsider, pirate radio ethos of the scene. This makes sense, the artist and song are always projected on screen, and there's obvious market value in getting an up close introduction to kids in countless dorms across the globe. Pritchard also tells me that occasionally, he's received inquiries from artists willing to pay money to get their tunes featured in the stream's rotation-like a nascent, new-media revival of payola. "We don't want someone to find the stream and the next day be unable to find it," says Pritchard. Together, they turned their radio work into a record label-showcasing their artists through Spotify playlists, building a brand that's not anonymous or disposable, in the way that people often stumble through the internet. There are two British kids behind the 415k subscriber strong "College Music" chillhop stream-Jonny Laxton, 19, in Leeds, and Luke Pritchard, 20, in Reading. Other YouTube DJs have learned to consolidate a number of tangential financial interests to stay afloat. Of course they're ready to feel those textures again. The teenagers who loved this stuff are now entering their late-20s. Adult Swim specialized in toothsome, twilit grooves for its bumpers and commercials, and they also engineered the crossover success of the zonked-savant rapper MF Doom, (if there is one shared touchstone for lo-fi hip-hop, it's probably Madvillainy.) Toonami, on the other hand, brought Cowboy Bebop and Samurai Champloo to a western audience for the first time, with their incredible merengue-tinged soundtracks intact.

He theorizes that the chillhop renaissance can be traced back to a bygone nostalgia for Cartoon Network's Adult Swim and Toonami. Today, Celsius has 286,000 subscribers to his channel, and stands as one of the true vibe barons on the internet. "It wasn't until early 2017 when I saw that YouTube Live streaming had come a long way that I decided to jump in and try again," he said. Twitch, the live-streaming titan, is notoriously picky about licensed music being reproduced on their platform, and when Celsius first set out to start his own station on the platform, he found himself quickly ousted after a Terms of Service violation. based DJ who runs his own suite of lo-fi hip-hop channels, says YouTube became the hotbed for his work because of the comparatively lax attitudes towards copyright law. Sometimes, all you need to do is trust the taste of an enterprising kid with a YouTube channel. These ingredients are simple and remarkably consistent, and they add up into a new incarnation of internet radio called "lo-fi hip-hop," or "chillhop," or more pointedly, "lo-fi hip-hop radio for studying, relaxing, and gaming." Endless, non-perishable YouTube streams that run 24/7, delivering the chillest, most amicable vibes to a legion of traumatized university students-like the perfect holistic alternative when the Xanax isn't cutting it anymore. A very particular, very millennial breed of simmering downtempo pours through your laptop speakers muffled drum machine pitter, a few lazy nocturnal synth beams, perhaps an entranced, elliptical vocal sample sourced from self-help tapes, ancient cartoons, Nintendo 64 games, or public-access flotsam. An infinite loop of a tired anime girl, sitting in a picturesque Miyazaki bedroom, writing revisions into her notebook, or reading a newspaper with a hot cup of coffee, or simply staring out of a lonely window on a rainy day.
