It took several messages across three different apps to schedule this interview. That’s no slight to Radio B, but it does stick in my mind on my way to talk to him.
We’re meeting at Michael Millions’ studio, where Radio recorded his latest album, “The Internet Is Fake,” a location we landed on after I initiated our conversation on Instagram, followed up in X, and eventually migrated fully to iMessage.
That collage-like communication style probably feels familiar if you have an average amount of screen time; these apps are so ingrained in our muscle memory that sentences get spliced and distributed throughout various inboxes, the brain’s synapses firing at intervals we control with our thumbs. The remedy for our easily distractible minds, according to Radio B, isn’t complex but seems to be getting more and more difficult: “Put your motherfuckin’ phone down,” he repeats like a mantra throughout the album.
Radio wanted to talk to me in Millions’ studio because, as he puts it, there’s a magic in the room they access when working. Looking around, I do pick up an energy; there’s enough sunlight to keep the small room warm and inviting, show posters and vinyl copies of classics fit between sound-baffling panels, and every cluttered corner hosts the charming ephemera of a truly lived-in space. It feels calm and comfortable, the kind of space where you tap in more than you zone out.

Accomplished, prolific performers and emcees, Radio and Millions are linchpins of the Richmond hip-hop community as members of the Association of Great Minds alongside Nickelus F and Monsée, as well as co-curators of the annual showcase Flag On the Moon. They’ve formed a deep bond during their years of collaboration, a trust that goes beyond scene camaraderie.
“If I’m looking for feedback,” Radio says, pointing to Millions, “it’s from him.”
As the concept behind “The Internet Is Fake” started to take shape, Radio and Millions checked in frequently to make sure the music felt purposeful.
“There couldn’t be a rap for the sake of rapping or a vibe for the sake of vibe,” Radio explains. “Everything had to be super intentional.” The album needed to examine enormous topics—the destruction of connection, the pain of FOMO [fear of missing out], the daze of information overload. But, bluntness of the title aside, Radio never wanted to seem preachy. “I’m not bird’s-eye viewing this,” he says. “I’m dead smack in the middle of it, dealing with the addiction just like everyone else, seeing the deterioration of authenticity, empathy and human connection.”

The project he envisioned required true buy-in, a significant time commitment from artist and audience alike. That meant slowing down, not forcing the writing, allowing ideas to calcify at their own tempo. Radio wrote and recorded his last album, 2022’s “Stop Looking For Noise,” in about a week and a half during what he calls a “tumultuous time” in his life. It’s raw and immediate, a cathartic blast of the themes that expanded in “The Internet Is Fake”—including the aforementioned mantra.
In sharp contrast, Radio worked on “The Internet” from May to October 2024, constantly interrogating his ideas and scrutinizing every line. The process was an exciting challenge; he didn’t establish a regimented writing practice, opting instead to receive inspiration organically. Still, he often found himself drifting away from the work, head buried in his phone. “I was continually fighting with myself,” he admits. “While I’m scrolling, I’m thinking, ‘I should be writing the album.’” Working on an album about internet addiction was a cycle unto itself, a steadily shifting balance of experience and analysis.
What emerged from that five-month period is a dense, 18-song, hour-long opus. I ask if the length is a comment on the reduced attention spans of our era, and both Radio and Millions laugh and nod affirmatively. Don Dubious, who also produced the entirety of “Stop Looking For Noise,” supplies a lush, widescreen soundscape, splitting the difference between 1970s protest soul and lush, spacious boom-bap. Millions’ mixing gives space to each layer, filling every inch of the stereo field with swirling textures. Radio’s writing is deceptively intricate, staying candid and commanding without sacrificing technique.
“Four Cornered Room” is a paranoid blues jam, with Radio unsure if the version people present of themselves online is anywhere close to the truth. On “Invisible Headsmacks,” Radio takes aim at trolls, reply guys and incels, trying to suss out the trembling fear behind their behavior. Though he repeatedly reinforces his main point—the internet is a complicated, pernicious force—Radio never sounds didactic, sprinkling in glimpses of alternatives to our persistent, brain-rotting scroll; alternatives to being trapped in this toxic world. There are things to be present for: “Nature, love, human interaction,” he says.

Radio describes a blissful moment in the sun on “This Is Fun,” a moment inspired by a walk he took one spring morning. Celebrations of family, laughter and simple joys share the same space as his excoriations of stan culture, clickbait and algorithms.
The album itself is the medicine—it’s not only his longest and most immersive project, but it’s his most collaborative. He draws in a wide swath of voices from the Richmond hip-hop scene, advocating for community as the antidote to a siloed, screen-capped existence.
If we focus on the beauty of each other, he seems to suggest, we can repair our damaged attention spans and build a politics of care and empathy. When I ask Radio for actionable steps he wants people to take after listening, he simply hopes they stay present.
At the end of “TIME,” amidst Cousin Frank’s billowing vocals and rollicking wah guitar, Radio gives us his thesis: “Birthday, death day/ That dash is your timeline.”
Radio B’s “The Internet is Fake” came out on Jan. 1, 2025 and is available to purchase on digital service providers. His next shows are at RVA Boombox on Feb. 28, Reveler Experiences on April 5 and Shockoe Sessions on May 6.