How I Became DJ Riddler — Part 2: The Day DJ Riddler Was Born

Last week I told you about Rippin Rich.

The summer of 1988. The cassette tape. The Underground Productions. Carrz. Miami and the Cameo Theater. The Lizard Lounge in Austin.

If you missed Part 1 — read it here first. This story picks up right where that one left off.

Because Part 1 was about how a kid from Houston fell in love with music and spent years grinding his way through teen clubs, radio stations, and nightclubs across three cities trying to figure out who he was as a DJ.

Part 2 is about the moment someone else figured it out for him.

Paragon

Back in Houston I reunited with Bobby Stark and Dave Townsend.

Bobby was the local promoter who had given me my first club night at Tower Theater years earlier. Dave Townsend was his co-promoter and someone who would prove equally instrumental in what came next.

Together they had opened a new club on the north side of Houston called Paragon.

I was DJing there regularly when one night I met Paul Cubby Bryant.

Cubby was doing live remote broadcasts from Paragon for KRBE — one of Houston's biggest radio stations. He was the night show jock and music director. We developed a friendship over those nights at Paragon that would change the entire trajectory of my career.

KRBE and The Beat

Cubby got me into KRBE in 1993.

Tom Poleman was already Program Director when I arrived. Tom had transformed KRBE from an alternative leaning station into the hottest mainstream Top 40 station in Houston. Ratings were through the roof. The station was on fire.

Tom gave me a four hour prerecorded mixshow called The Beat. Saturday nights.

But Tom also changed my name.

Rippin Rich was too 80s sounding for where radio was going.

He renamed me DJ Rich.

Cleaner. More radio friendly. Less of a specific era attached to it.

I went with it. Tom had great instincts and had already proven he could read a market better than almost anyone in the business. If he said DJ Rich was the right name for radio — I trusted him.

DJ Rich is the name that followed me from Houston to Tommy Boy Records in 1995 and eventually to New York City.

Z100 New York

Six months after joining Tommy Boy Records I got a call from Cubby.

Tom Poleman and Paul Cubby Bryant had left KRBE to program Z100 in New York — the biggest radio station in America. The same transformation Tom had executed at KRBE in Houston — taking an alternative leaning station and turning it into a mainstream Top 40 powerhouse — he was now doing at Z100.

They invited me to the station in Secaucus New Jersey.

I walked in and was reunited with Tom. Cubby. Sharon Dastur. Ryan Chase. And I met the Z100 morning show for the first time — Elvis Duran.

They put me on Z100's mixshow — Planet Z.

I was on the biggest radio station in America.

Let that sink in for a moment.

A kid who started DJing at 17 years old at a teen club called Carrz for $50 a night — with taxes taken out — was now on Z100 in New York City.

The same station that made careers. The same station that defined pop music for an entire generation of listeners.

It happened because a friendship built on the dance floor of a Houston nightclub called Paragon led to a phone call that led to a train ride to Secaucus New Jersey.

This industry runs on relationships. Every single time.

The Merger

In 2000 the Clear Channel and Evergreen merger changed everything.

I was moved from Z100 to 103.5 KTU — The Beat of New York.

KTU was a different animal from Z100. More rhythmic. More dance music oriented. A station that spoke directly to the New York club culture I had been living in for years.

Program Director Frankie Blue and APD Jeff Z called me into the office.

I sat down across from them not knowing what was coming.

The Moment

Jeff Z had actually come up with the name.

But Frankie was the one who said it out loud. And made it real.

Frankie looked at me — in his unmistakable Italian accent — and said:

"DJ Rich is too plain for New York City and New York radio."

"I'm going to make you The Riddler."

"And you are going to be a star."

I didn't choose the name.

Someone else saw something in me and named it before I did.

I sat there for a moment and thought about it.

It fit.

Enigmatic. You never knew what I was going to play next. I had always played a wide variety of music that crossed genres and eras in ways that kept people guessing. The Riddler — a figure defined by mystery and unpredictability — captured something about my DJ style that DJ Rich never quite did.

I said — sure. Let's go.

When they put me on the air at 103.5 KTU — DJ Riddler was born.

What That Moment Actually Was

I've been thinking about that office a lot lately.

Frankie Blue and Jeff Z didn't just give me a new name. They gave me an identity that has lasted 25 years and counting.

DJ Riddler followed me from KTU to SiriusXM BPM where I hosted Adrenaline — my own show that aired every Saturday night right before David Guetta and Kaskade — and later Riddler's Revolution.

DJ Riddler is on a Billboard Top 10 record.

DJ Riddler has over 100 official remixes.

DJ Riddler is the name on the door at Warehouse Live Midtown as Director of Entertainment.

DJ Riddler is the name my son Renner knows me by when he's behind the decks at the Hot Wheels Legends Tour.

All of that started in an office at KTU with Frankie Blue looking across a desk and deciding I needed a name worthy of New York City.

The Through Line

Three names. Three chapters. Same DJ.

Rippin Rich — Houston. The beginning. $50 a night. Learning the craft.DJ Rich — Radio. Tommy Boy. Z100. Building credibility.DJ Riddler — KTU. SiriusXM. Billboard. Warehouse Live. The fully realized version.

A 17 year old kid playing his first gig for $50 a night — every dollar going back into records — eventually became the person someone looked across a desk at and said you are going to be a star.

I just had to keep showing up long enough for someone to see it.

And I want you to remember that.

Whatever chapter you're in right now — whether you're Rippin Rich grinding at teen clubs or DJ Rich building credibility on radio or still waiting for your Frankie Blue moment —

Keep showing up.

Someone is watching.

And when they see it — they'll name it for you.