Getting a hold of Rich Medina is like trying to grab a flame. It’s not that he’s intentionally elusive, rather, he’s exceptionally busy. Arguably one of the best club DJs in the world, the 35-year-old is often here today, gone tomorrow. Between New York and Philadelphia he has six club residencies, including the Meatpacking District’s APT, where he’s hosted Lil’ Ricky’s Rib Shack – his weekly Wednesday party – for the past three years. During the six days in between, it’s not uncommon for him to be manning the turntables anywhere from London to Los Angeles.

Mr. Medina began his career deejaying rap, but he’s now known for his ability as a generalist, meaning he can spin any type of music, often combining songs so varied in style that you’d never think they could be blended together and played back-to-back. And when it comes to spinning Afrobeat – a funky brand of up-tempo African jazz that emphasizes the horn and rhythm sections – he has no equal. In fact, his bimonthly Jump ‘N’ Funk party, which has rotated between venues in Philadelphia and New York for the past four years, has been a major catalyst for the reintroduction of Fela Kuti and other politically outspoken African musicians who became influential during the 1970s.

A native of Point Pleasant, N.J., Mr. Medina’s first exposure to hip-hop came in the early 1980s. “Even though we were an hour away from Manhattan, the hip-hop community there wasn’t that distant from us,” he said. “We frequented New York whenever we had cash to hop the train, and people like Biz Markie and TJ Swan were always playing in our area.” He dabbled with graffiti and then learned to deejay. “I started carrying records and setting up turntables for the local DJs when I was 11,” he said. “A year later, they gave me an opportunity to play the Sadie Hawkins dances and high school parties.”

High school was fairly easy for Mr. Medina. Aside from deejaying, he excelled in the classroom and on the basketball court. “I tripped through school,” he recalled. “English was my favorite class, and I could sneeze on a paper and get an A.” Those talents landed him at Cornell in 1988. The Ivy League proved to be a rigorous combination of academics and athletics, and his intense schedule left little time to work on music. Not to mention, upstate New York took some getting used to. “It was culture shock,” he said. “I had a three finger ring and fat laces. I was a B-boy. Cornell cats were wearing slacks. It showed me I’d been living in a bubble, and it opened my eyes to how people from other cultures got down.”

After graduation, he had an opportunity to play professional basketball, but a shoulder injury ended his hoop dreams prematurely. So he moved to Philadelphia to work for Procter & Gamble as a beauty products salesman. In between pushing Pert and Pantene, he rekindled his interest in music. “I’d be in the record stores on my lunch break in a suit and tie buying records,” he said.

It wasn’t long before he was taking out the frustrations of his day job by spinning records at clubs and parties all over town. By 1997, he was making enough money deejaying to quit working for Procter & Gamble. Then he crept back into New York for long-term engagements – first at Good World and later at Fun. And like that LeAnn Rimes song, the rest is history.

The career of a top-notch club DJ generally follows one of three paths: continue working clubs, get a radio show, or delve into music production. Mr. Medina was enjoying the Philadelphia-to-New York circuit, especially considering that he and longtime friend Bobbito Garcia had opened up Footwork, a hip-hop specialty shop in Philadelphia. And his gigs in Philadelphia were frequented by the musicians and producers who were creating the soulful sound behind acts like Common, the Roots, and Jill Scott. Aside from not having enough time to work on his spoken-word lyrics, Mr. Medina had no complaints.

Talent knows talent, and in 1999, Jill Scott tapped Mr. Medina to work on her debut album, which has been lauded by many critics as one of the best R&B albums of the past five years. “I thought she was talking about a spoken-word collaboration because that’s how we knew each other,” he said. “But she wanted beats. I told her straight, ‘I’m not a producer.’ She said, ‘With all the records you have… you are now.'” Two months later, he delivered an earthy, feather-light groove that became “Watching Me,” track 15 on “Who Is Jill Scott?”

It never hurts to get a little help from your friends, and that push propelled Mr. Medina to lay down lyrics for King Britt, Kinetic Just, DJ Spinna, Phil Asher, and the Platinum Pied Pipers. Then, to improve his production skills, he joined forces with the Marksmen, the Harlem-based beat-makers responsible for “The Black Market Album” – the best remix of Jay-Z’s “Black Album” to date. With the help of Marksmen head honcho Mark Hines, Mr. Medina has been producing new songs and working on his spoken-word lyrics ever since. “Rich is the best DJ I’ve ever heard and it turned out he’s also a skilled writer,” said Mr. Hines. “He’s a renaissance man, so it didn’t surprise me when his production skills went from zero to 60 in a single year. He takes risks on the boards just like he does on the turntables. You gotta love that. He’s become more adept and prolific than most of our contemporaries in a fraction of the time and his style is as diverse and deep as his record collection.”

In the meantime, Mr. Medina is at Winter Music Conference in Miami. His all-day Jump ‘N’ Funk at the Marlin Hotel proves to be the highlight of the week’s festivities. He’s also debuting “Emancipation,” the lead single from his as-yet-untitled solo CD that he’s releasing independently in September. “I want to do it the way I want to do it,” he said. “I don’t want to be forced to make changes to my music because of some idiot record executive. My work is worthy of a major label, but I’d rather come into the arena through the side door. I’m not interested in walking down the red carpet.” He’s producing all of his tracks and the playlist will be a combination of his spoken word and instrumentals with a little rapping and singing from the likes of Alma Horton and others.

Then it’s off to the airport and onto the next destination with a pit stop in Harlem for some much-needed studio time at the Marksmen Lab. “I can’t complain about my schedule,” he said after a brief shrug. “It beats selling shampoo.”