Even before he started circling the limelight, Mark Ronson already had the clout. In the late 1990s and early 2000s, the retrophiliac music producer starred in a Tommy Hilfiger campaign alongside Aaliyah, and DJ’ed for New York’s Sidekick-wielding fashion set. He racked up the kind of bookings that would make a National Enquirer reporter gag, playing both Martha Stewart’s Christmas party and the wedding reception of Tom Cruise and Katie Holmes, hosted in a 15th-century Italian castle.

Ronson’s own cult of personality has largely rested on a cluster of artists whom he helped shepherd through their imperial period, including Amy Winehouse on her immortal 2006 album Back to Black, and Lily Allen on her sly 2006 debut Alright, Still. On the back of these successes, a New York Magazine feature the following year described Ronson as “the architect of a new white-soul movement.” Also in 2007, The New York Times asked, “Could this rock star D.J. actually become a rock star?”

Twelve years on, Ronson isn’t quite a rock star, but his super producer status has reached a new plateau. Even if the 43-year-old hadn’t already won multiple Grammys throughout the last 11 years, he would have gotten halfway to an EGOT in the last 12 months alone, thanks to a co-write on Lady Gaga’s A Star Is Born anthem “Shallow” and “Electricity,” a clubby bop by Dua Lipa and Silk City, the production duo Ronson formed with Diplo. Yet Ronson has consistently shown an itchy discomfort with the spotlight. Perhaps the closest he has ever came to a brag was on 2010’s “Record Collection,” where in a rare vocal turn he speak-sings, “I get preferential treatment at the Marriott.”

Speaking to the New York Times’ Joe Coscarelli this June, Ronson said, “I’m definitely not a pop star.” As Coscarelli notes, that distinction itself is of questionable relevance, given “the rise of DJs and producers as pop stars” such as Diplo, the Chainsmokers, and Calvin Harris. In this sense Ronson is an outlier among his peers, and due to his work with Winehouse, holds an extra cachet of credibility for music fans of a certain stripe. You can’t quite picture him playing a washboard in a Lil Nas X video, like Diplo; but with his multiple interviews promoting his new album Late Night Feelings, neither is he the Bel Air recluse of Harris.

By farming his productions’ vocals out to others, Ronson decidedly side-steps much of the personality game demanded of A-list pop stars, while still reaping the benefits afforded by having a No. 1 single. In some cases, as with his recent Miley Cyrus collaboration “Nothing Breaks Like A Heart,” the quality of the work justifies his seeming desire to have it both ways. But often, Ronson’s wide-ranging approach to music feels like an exercise in personal brand building as much as an artistic pursuit. His influence is evident in the number of amateur DJs you’ll find at Silver Lake or Shoreditch bars with laptop sets that range from Ghost Town DJ’s to Steely Dan and end with a self-satisfied smirk.

Ronson’s first big production gig was with the soul-pop artist Nikka Costa, a former child star who’d once sung with Frank Sinatra at the White House, and who Virgin Records was prepping for a career reboot. Their 2001 song “Everybody Got Their Something” sampled a guitar hook from George Harrison’s All Things Must Pass while also bringing to mind a then-current Faith Evans hit. Costa’s comeback failed to bother the charts much, but sample-heavy soundalikes turned out to be smart business for Ronson. His 2003 contribution to the Honey soundtrack, “Ooh Wee,” featured new Ghostface Killah and Nate Dogg verses over music culled from Dennis Coffey’s Motor City classic “Scorpio” and Boney M’s “Sunny.” The song turned out to sync perfectly with quick-cuts of Jessica Alba making cocktails.