Interview by Passion Dzenga | Photography by Dana Lixenberg
Few bands can claim to have shaped music history while defying every neat genre label, but ESG has been doing exactly that for over four decades. Formed in the South Bronx by the Scroggins sisters — Renee, Valerie, Deborah, and Marie — along with their friend Tito Libran, ESG took their name from three precious elements: emerald, sapphire, and gold. With their stripped-down blend of funk, punk, hip-hop, and Latin rhythms, they forged a sound so distinctive it has gone on to stand the test of time and influence generations of musicians.
Discovered by 99 Records’ Ed Bahlman at a local talent show, ESG soon caught the attention of Tony Wilson, owner of the Hacienda nightclub and Factory Records, after a Manhattan club gig. Within days, they were recording with producer Martin Hannett, creating tracks like “Moody,” “You’re No Good,” and the now-legendary “UFO” — a song that would become one of the most sampled in music history. From the Beastie Boys to Wu-Tang Clan, TLC to MF Doom, generations of artists have built upon ESG’s minimal, bass-driven grooves.
Over the years, the group has released influential EPs and albums, taken their music around the world, and kept it all in the family — with Renee’s children now joining the lineup. Their work has been praised by critics, revered by musicians across genres, and celebrated by fans worldwide.
As the band approaches its 49th year, founding member Renee Scroggins reflects on ESG’s beginnings, their impact, and the lessons she’s carrying into retirement and passing on to the next generation.
“When we started, it wasn’t the greatest thing at first,” Renee admits with a laugh, recalling ESG’s earliest jam sessions. “But we weren’t just freestyling — from the beginning, we had the intention of being a band. We were going to do this together.” The name ESG wasn’t theirs at first, but their mother’s invention: Emerald, Sapphire, and Gold. Valerie’s birth sign was Emerald, Renee’s was Sapphire, and the sisters hoped Gold would manifest into gold records.
Growing up in the South Bronx in the 1970s meant music was everywhere — but so were hardship and danger. “My mom didn’t want us hanging out in the streets,” Renee remembers. “We stayed inside watching Soul! on PBS or Don Kirshner’s Rock Concert. And from our 13th-floor window, we could hear Latin gentlemen in the park playing congas, timbales, cowbells, even Coca-Cola bottles. That sound came through every night.” Latin rhythms blended with her mother’s James Brown records — raw funk and breakdowns that ESG stretched into entire songs. Add in the rock theatrics of Queen and the harmonies of Motown, and a blueprint was forming.
Everything changed for the group when Wilson invited them to record with producer Martin Hannett, best known for his work with Joy Division. “Martin didn’t really change our sound,” Renee says. “He magnified it. He added a few touches, but mostly he let us be ourselves.”
If there’s one ESG song from that session that refuses to fade, it’s “UFO”. Born almost by accident during their first recording session with Martin Hannett, the track was cut simply to fill the last three minutes of reel-to-reel tape.
“Martin asked if we had a three-minute song because there were three minutes left,” Renee recalls. “My family hated it — I loved it. And somehow, it became the one everybody wanted.”
With its eerie guitar harmonics, loose bass, and raw percussion, “UFO” sounded like nothing else in 1981. The track’s otherworldly atmosphere — written while Renee was steeped in Close Encounters of the Third Kind and Star Wars — hinted at space and alien encounters, but also carried the accidental dissonance of instruments the band hadn’t yet learned to tune “properly.” “These are notes that don’t even exist on the music scale,” Renee laughs. “So yeah, I can always tell when it’s “UFO” being sampled. That sound is unmistakable.”
Unmistakable and unavoidable. “UFO” went on to become one of the most sampled tracks in music history, underpinning hits and deep cuts alike. At first, Renee struggled with this afterlife. “I didn’t like it, especially when rappers were saying negative things about women — and we weren’t getting paid,” she admits. “I was working regular jobs to feed my kids, while people were sampling our music and making money.” The frustration was immortalised in their 1992 album title, Sample Credits Don’t Pay the Bills.
Eventually, sampling laws shifted in the band’s favour, and today Renee sees “UFO with a mix of pride and perspective. “You learn to go with the flow, become a part of the system, and deal with it,” she says. “It doesn’t make it right, but that’s just how it is. At the end of the day, people are still hearing us, moving to us. “UFO” is proof that even something you didn’t plan can outlive you.”
The band was suddenly swept into Manhattan’s punk and downtown scenes, playing alongside post-punk peers like Liquid Liquid, Bush Tetras, and Glenn Branca. “It was a shock,” Renee says. “We came from the Bronx, where funk, Latin, and gospel were the soundtrack. Downtown was a whole other world.”
For a band that began in a Bronx apartment, ESG’s music travelled astonishingly far. Their stripped-down funk crossed oceans before the band members themselves did, becoming staples in clubs from Manchester to Tokyo. Once they hit the road, the experience was nothing short of transformative.
Their European debut came with history: ESG was invited to open Manchester’s infamous Hacienda nightclub on its very first night in 1982. “I still have the little sticker posters from that gig,” Renee recalls. “But honestly, the place wasn’t finished. There was sawdust everywhere. I remember coughing and gagging, thinking, ‘Wow, this isn’t good for my throat.’ So when people ask me what I remember most about the Hacienda, I always say, ‘Sawdust.’”
Despite the dust, that evening marked the beginning of ESG’s long relationship with European audiences. They were soon playing to packed rooms in Paris, where a French magazine, Femme Actuelle, hosted them for one of their earliest overseas shows. Even without a common language, fans danced and connected deeply with ESG’s rhythms. “That’s when you realise music is a universal language,” Renee says.
Japan, too, became a milestone. “They didn’t speak English, but they understood the music,” Renee remembers. “That touched me — to see people thousands of miles away moving to something we created in the Bronx.”
Back home, ESG continued to push boundaries, from small clubs in downtown Manhattan to major cultural institutions. Playing Lincoln Centre — in a program honouring the first women to sign a major label contract — was especially meaningful. “To be recognised in that way, after everything, that was special,” Renee says.
Not every memory is grand, but each carries its own weight. Renee recalls braving a snowstorm in 1981 to play at a New York club. “I thought no one would show up — the streets were insane. But when we got to the show, it was packed wall to wall. That’s when you see the power of music.”
For ESG, the road has been a cycle of challenges and affirmations. From gritty beginnings to international acclaim, their travels revealed the same truth in every city: wherever people gather, ESG’s music makes them move.
Even as ESG’s sound spread across continents and decades, their career became a cautionary tale about ownership in the music industry. “This is your work, and each song is like a child,” Renee stresses. “You want to protect it the same way you’d protect your kids. It’s heartbreaking to see music chopped up, stolen, or misused.”. Everyone kept asking about these artists sampling us, but they didn’t work with me — they stole my music.”
It’s why she insists on passing down business lessons to her children, who now perform with her in ESG: daughter Nicole on bass, son Nicholas on percussion, alongside her sister Marie and current drummer Cat Doerch, “Business first, then art,” she says firmly.
Despite the struggles, the joy of music still drives Renee. “We’re still creating original songs, not copying or borrowing. And I know future generations will sample them too. That brings me joy. When that joy disappears, that’s when you stop.” ESG has indeed decided to stop — eventually. The band will retire after June 2026, following a farewell tour that begins in San Francisco at the Great American Music Hall. “People ask, ‘Why not 50 years?’ But 49 is enough,” Renee says with a smile. Looking back, she marvels at how far their music has travelled from a Bronx apartment. “I never set out to inspire the world. I just wanted to buy my mom a house. But to see people all over — in Italy, Spain, the Netherlands, Japan — dancing to what I wrote in the projects… that touches my heart.”
As ESG prepares to close the loop on nearly five decades of dance, Renee Scroggins leaves us with a reminder that stretches beyond the stage. “In these times, we need to learn to love and respect one another,” she says. “Forget politics for a moment — people can still choose kindness. Music has always been a universal language, and that’s what we’ve tried to bring to you.”
For younger artists, her message is also a practical one: protect your work, own your masters, register your songs. “That way, your art will take care of you in the long run,” she adds. But above all, it’s about heart. “Love what you’re doing. Because if you don’t love your art, then it’s not worth it.”
It’s a fitting coda to a band that turned the everyday rhythms of the Bronx into something timeless: a reminder that music connects us, teaches us, and carries us forward — as long as we keep dancing.
Patta Magazine Volume 6 is available now at Patta chapter stores in Amsterdam, London, Milan and Lagos.
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