It is Friday night. You are at a wedding, a 40th birthday party, or maybe just a dive bar that has seen better days. The air smells like cheap beer and floor wax. Then, that looped Slick Rick "Children's Story" bassline kicks in. Everyone—and I mean everyone—immediately knows what is about to happen. Before Montell Jordan even opens his mouth to tell us about the neighborhood, the energy in the room shifts. This Is How We Do It isn't just a song; it's a physiological trigger for 90s nostalgia that has somehow survived three decades without losing an ounce of its cool.
Honestly, it’s kind of a miracle.
Most songs from 1995 sound dated. They feel like time capsules buried in baggy jeans and neon windbreakers. But Montell’s debut single? It’s timeless. It’s the definitive anthem of the "New Jack Swing" era transitioning into the smooth R&B-thug era that dominated the late 90s. But there is a lot more to the story of this track than just a catchy hook and a party vibe.
The Def Jam Gamble That Changed Everything
In the early 90s, Def Jam Recordings was in trouble. Serious trouble. They were the kings of hip-hop, but they were bleeding money and struggling to find their footing in a changing market. Russell Simmons and Lyor Cohen needed a hit. They didn't just need a "good" song; they needed a cultural reset.
Enter Montell Jordan.
He wasn't your typical R&B singer. For starters, he was 6'8". He looked more like a power forward for the Knicks than a crooner. He was also a college graduate from Pepperdine University. When he walked into the Def Jam offices, he wasn't just bringing a demo; he was bringing a specific vision of South Central Los Angeles that wasn't about the "gangsta" lifestyle being sold by Death Row Records at the time. He wanted to show the world how people in the neighborhood actually lived—the parties, the cruising, the community.
The label took a chance. They paired him with producer Oji Pierce. The genius move, though, was the sample. By lifting the groove from Slick Rick’s "Children’s Story," they created an instant bridge between the hip-hop world and the R&B world. It was a Trojan horse. Rappers liked it because it felt authentic to the streets. R&B fans liked it because Montell could actually sing.
This Is How We Do It: The Anatomy of a Perfect Party Record
What makes This Is How We Do It so sticky? It starts with the intro. That spoken word opening—"This is how we do it... it's Friday night"—sets the scene perfectly. You're not just listening to a song; you're being invited to a specific moment in time.
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Then comes the lyrics.
Montell talks about "designated drivers" and "all the gangbangers forgot about the drive-by." It’s aspirational but grounded. It’s about peace. It’s about a momentary truce where the only thing that matters is the rhythm. You’ve got to admire the sheer audacity of a guy singing about being "kinda buzzed" while maintaining a smooth, professional vocal delivery.
The song hit number one on the Billboard Hot 100 and stayed there for seven weeks. Seven. In 1995, that was an eternity. It blocked massive hits from legendary artists because it possessed a universal appeal that crossed racial and social lines. White kids in the suburbs were singing about "the lower track" just as loudly as the people living in the 213 area code.
The "One-Hit Wonder" Myth and the Reality of Longevity
People often mistakenly label Montell Jordan as a one-hit wonder. That’s just factually wrong. He had "Get It On Tonite," "Let’s Ride," and "Somethin' 4 Da Honeyz." He wrote "Incomplete" for Sisqó, which was a massive chart-topper. The man has a deep catalog and genuine songwriting chops.
But let's be real. Nothing else he ever did—or perhaps anyone else did in that era—matched the sheer ubiquity of his debut.
Why?
Because the song represents a specific kind of joy. It’s not aggressive. It’s not overly sexualized in a way that makes it awkward to play at a family reunion. It exists in that sweet spot of "cool enough for the club" and "safe enough for the radio."
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Even the music video is iconic. Shot in a gritty but vibrant L.A. setting, it featured Montell in a bright red vest, towering over everyone else, looking like the guy you definitely wanted to be friends with. It wasn't about flashy cars or jewelry; it was about the people. That human element is why the track still works on TikTok today. Gen Z has discovered it, and they aren't using it ironically. They genuinely like the beat.
The Spiritual Pivot
One of the most interesting chapters in the Montell Jordan story isn't about the music industry at all. It’s about why he walked away.
In 2010, at the height of a comeback attempt, Montell felt a calling to leave the secular music world behind. He became a worship leader at Victory World Church in Georgia. For a guy who had spent years singing about Friday nights and being "kinda buzzed," this was a radical shift.
He didn't disown the song, though. He’s been very open about the fact that This Is How We Do It provided the platform for the rest of his life. He often performs it still, sometimes with tweaked lyrics to fit his current faith-based lifestyle, but he understands its power. He knows that for millions of people, those opening notes represent a time of their lives when things felt simpler.
It’s rare to see an artist handle their legacy with such grace. He isn't bitter about being "the guy who sang that one song." He embraces it. He knows he created a piece of the American cultural fabric.
Technical Nuance: The Slick Rick Connection
To really understand why the song works, you have to look at the math of the production. The sample of Slick Rick's "Children's Story" (which itself was inspired by Bob James' "Nautilus") is pitched slightly differently in Montell's version.
The bass is boosted.
The snare is crisp.
The tempo is approximately 103 BPM.
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That 100-105 BPM range is the "sweet spot" for human movement. It’s faster than a slow grind but slower than a frantic dance track. It’s the perfect walking pace. It invites a head nod before it invites a dance move. By the time the chorus hits, you’re already committed.
A lot of producers try to replicate this formula by just throwing a popular sample under a vocal. Usually, it fails. It feels lazy. But with Montell, the vocal melody actually dances with the bassline instead of just sitting on top of it. He uses his voice like an instrument, adding those "oh-oh-oh" harmonies that fill the space without cluttering the track.
How to Properly Appreciate the Track Today
If you want to experience the song the way it was intended, stop listening to it through tinny smartphone speakers.
Put it on a system with a real subwoofer. Feel the low end. Listen to the way the background vocals pan from left to right during the bridge. Notice the "South Central" shout-outs that give the song its geography.
There’s a reason this track is a staple in DJ sets from Tokyo to London. It is a masterclass in R&B arrangement. It’s a reminder that sometimes, the best music doesn't need to be complicated. It just needs to be honest.
Actionable Ways to Use This Legacy
If you're a creator, musician, or just a fan of 90s culture, there are specific takeaways from the success of Montell Jordan:
- Study the "Sample-to-Vocal" Ratio: See how the song uses a familiar hook to ground the listener before introducing a new melody. This is a classic "bridge the gap" strategy.
- Embrace Your Unique "Look": Montell didn't try to hide his height or his academic background; he used his distinctiveness to stand out in a crowded R&B field.
- Focus on the "Vibe" Over the "Virtuosity": While Montell is a great singer, he never over-sings on this track. He keeps it relaxed. The "vibe" is what people remember, not the vocal runs.
- Understand Your Audience's Routine: The song is literally about a Friday night routine. It became the soundtrack to people's actual lives by describing their actual experiences.
The next time you hear that bassline drop, don't just stand there. Appreciate the craft. Appreciate the history of a tall guy from Cali who saved a legendary record label and gave us the greatest party starter of all time.
Start by revisiting the original music video to see the fashion and choreography that defined 1995. Then, compare the original Slick Rick track to Montell’s version to see exactly how the production team transformed a narrative rap song into a melodic R&B anthem. Finally, check out Montell’s recent live performances to see how he has maintained his vocal range and stage presence decades later.