I happened to read this book a week or two after watching a Quincy Jones documentary, and there were interesting echoes throughout, particularly around innovation, studio culture, and the shaping of modern Black music. Like Quincy, Riley comes across as both craftsman and cultural architect.
The book traces Teddy’s journey from a child prodigy growing up in Harlem, immersed in church and neighborhood music scenes, to becoming the pioneering force behind New Jack Swing, the seamless fusion of R&B, hip-hop, and pop that defined late ’80s and early ’90s radio. He recounts his early days with Kids at Work, his breakthrough production with Keith Sweat (Make It Last Forever), the formation of Guy, and later Blackstreet. Of course, a major highlight is his work on Michael Jackson’s Dangerous album, where his harder-edged, rhythm-driven sound helped reshape MJ’s musical direction in the ’90s.
It’s an easy, accessible read. The chapters are short and tightly structured, each offering a self-contained memory or studio story. The format makes it highly digestible so I moved through it quickly, which is always a good sign. There are plenty of name-checks, quotes, and behind-the-scenes anecdotes involving major figures in the industry, giving readers small but satisfying glimpses into pivotal cultural moments.
What stands out most is Riley’s quiet confidence in his craft. He doesn’t overstate his influence, yet the cumulative effect of the stories reminds you just how deeply his sound shaped popular music, from Bobby Brown’s Don’t Be Cruel to SWV, Heavy D, and beyond. You can hear the lineage of New Jack Swing in so much of what followed in contemporary R&B and pop production.
If I have a reservation, it’s that the memoir sometimes feels a little glossy. Given the volatility of the music business, the financial disputes, label politics, group tensions (particularly around Guy), and the pressures of rapid fame, I suspect the lived reality was harder, more stressful, and more complex than the book fully captures. The edges occasionally feel smoothed over. I found myself wondering about the emotional and personal toll behind the achievements.
That said, as the story of a musical innovator who helped define the sound of a generation, it’s absolutely worthwhile. Riley isn’t just recounting a career — he’s documenting the birth of a genre and the evolution of modern R&B. For anyone interested in music history, studio culture, or the mechanics of influence in popular culture over the last 30–40 years, Remember the Times is an engaging and valuable read and I thank the publisher and author for giving me a copy of this book to read and review.