Anthony Boogie Nicholson

By: Tariq Richardson

Courtesy of Anthony Boogie Nicholson

From church pews in Louisiana to crowds of 80,000 at the Houston Rodeo, musician and entrepreneur Anthony Boogie Nicholson has spent decades carving out a lane entirely his own. The Houston-based bassist opens up about his roots, his relationship with AI, his trucking business, and what he hopes to leave behind when the spotlight eventually fades.

Before the big stages and the viral Shannon Sharpe moment, where did it all begin for you?

It started in church. My mom kept me in church all the time, and I hated it, not God, just the fact that all my friends were out at football games having fun while I was stuck inside. But then I picked up the bass, and suddenly church became somewhere I actually wanted to be. Once I started playing, my friends got involved too. One played drums, another played keys, and we formed a little church band, trying to figure out who we wanted to sound like

One of the older guys handed us a cassette tape from Malaco Records, Mississippi Mass Choir and we weren’t even focused on the choir. We just wanted to hear the band, guys like Joel Smith on bass and Jonathan Dubose on guitar. We wanted to mimic what they were playing. I remember thinking, “Why doesn’t my bass sound like that?” Eventually, I figured it out, and that was it. We weren’t worried about money; we just wanted to play.

You recently released an AI-generated video for “Red, White, and Bruise.” Is that the new direction, or more of an experiment? It’s a tool, and I’m using it to see how far I can take it. A lot of people push back on AI and act like it’s not real work, but you have to know how to work with it. I’ve always been someone who wants to stay current. I don’t want to be the guy who can’t figure out how something works. I’ve got a few good years left in me, and I’d rather be moving forward.  

What’s wild is that AI is already everywhere—in books, video games, home systems, and television. My mother has an AI home system that plays soft jazz every morning at 5 a.m., the moment anyone wakes up. That’s just the world we’re in now. 

And AI artists are now getting signed to record labels. What do you make of that?I think we’re going to hear a lot more interesting music because of it. The industry is moving in that direction, whether people are comfortable with it or not. A hundred percent—that’s where this is going. 

You’ve worked the Houston Rodeo as both a musician and music director, performing for artists like Scarface and Tiny. What’s that experience actually like?It’s something else. You walk out in front of 80,000 people in cowboy boots, a cowboy hat, or however you want to dress, and everything goes dark. You’re standing on this star-shaped stage, and it starts moving. The lights hit you, the crowd erupts, and everyone from the city came out to see their people do something special. It makes you feel like a superstar. And then the show ends, you walk offstage, and you’re back in reality. But that moment, while you’re in it, I love that feeling.  

You’ve also built a trucking business using money from music. How did that come together?I started with $20,000, bought a used truck and trailer, and went from there. Driving has always been in my blood my dad and other family members were drivers. I knew that music slows down sometimes, so I wanted something else—something I could build into a legacy and pass down to my kids.  

The first year, I’ll be honest, I failed. But I kept going. Now, it’s reversed—the trucking business takes care of everything. Music still moves me, but trucking provides stability. I make my own schedule as an owner-operator, so if I have something music-related, I shut it down and go. Then I switch it back. It works because I’m in control of both.  

And that’s the real goal—generational wealth. Exactly. You want something to pass down. Not just music, which can slow or feel like it’s running its course, but a business your kids can step into and run. Something that outlasts you.  

You’ve stayed relevant in an industry that constantly pushes older artists aside for younger ones. How have you lasted nearly two decades? Always be willing to learn something new. I get bored easily I’ve got this ADD energy where I’m always looking for the next thing, always wanting to create something fresh. My relationship with Miss Jay has a lot to do with it, too. We fight like brothers. He’ll tell me something I’m working on is trash, I’ll fire back, but that friction keeps the spark alive. It’s been 20 years of that. We’re probably still arguing about something right now. But I’ve got his back, and he’s got mine. That’s genuine.  

With Boogie’s Worth Volume 2 on the way, what are you showing people that you held back on Volume 1? I want to talk a little trash, honestly. And I mean that in a specific way—I want to call some things out, especially in relationships. Volume 1 was my introduction. Volume 2 is where I open up more and give people a real look at who I am. I want people to hear it and think, “Okay, now I’m paying attention.” 

Last question: When the spotlight eventually moves on, what do you hope people in the industry say about Boogie? That he was a real one. Not just that he played music, but that he knew music. That his attitude was right. That he poured into people, laid down foundations, and made space for others to express themselves.  

I just want somebody to say, “Job well done, bro.” One day, I want to be like you. The same way I looked at those guys on those old Malaco recordings and wanted to sound like them, I want to be that for somebody else.