The Sound Quality is horrible but that was a tight show for sure. PDX POP is an alright Portland Music Festival but its not as good as POH Hop when it comes to hip hop. PDX Hip Hop is all about good underground rap and alternative hip hop with a little bit of West Coast swagger thrown in. PDX POP is mostly all about pop music. Which in my book is pretty lame.
PDX Break Dance
Portland Break Dancers busting out in the streets of Portland, Oregon. PDX Hip Hop break dancers are some of the best on the west coast. The saturation of b-boys and b-girls at PSU is the main reason for it. There are a lot of people that either go to PSU or at least attend their break dancing events and they make up most of the local break dance scene.
Top Ten Underground Rap Songs
I don’t necessarily agree with all the songs on this video. But someone apparently does. They got a lot of views on Youtube, so without further ado… for the fans.
In 1995, when Terence Scott (better known as Cool Nutz) started staging the Portland Oregon Hip-Hop Festival (better known as POH-Hop), hiphop was a lot different. Not just locally, when only a few groups were coming up; but nationally, before the music of hiphop was divided by genre. It was before the invisible lines between hiphop artists–and its fans–were drawn; before there was an established delineation between genres such as “gangsta rap,” “backpacker/ underground hiphop,” or, more absurdly, “goth-hop,” “emo-hop,” “pop-hop,” et cetera and so forth. It was before those delineations were vague signifiers of where your allegiances lay, before they even helped define the kind of person you were.
Cool Nutz liked it like that.
“It’s one of the things that bothered me through the course of Portland hiphop,” he says. “When we first started doing POH-hop, there was no segregation between the street gangsta element and the battle rappers and the backpackers and groups of that nature. There was never a separation. But hiphop has evolved, and now people choose their allegiances. [While hiphop] is really diverse, normally a show [consists of] a certain kind of artist; three groups all doing the same thing. I think the separation diluted the scene. Now you have people arguing whether ‘this is real hiphop; people will say, ‘oh, he said that he’s from Compton or something, so I don’t like it.’”
At first, POH-Hops were established to galvanize the Portland scene, to bring groups together and establish the idea that Portland, while not as nationally renowned as places like Oakland or LA, has a viable and vibrant hiphop scene. The first few POH-Hops were held at the now-defunct venue La Luna, and drew as many as 800 people, according to Cool Nutz. When La Luna tanked, however, the festivals became more difficult to stage. For POH-Hops Four through Seven, Cool Nutz says, “We included acts like Spearhead and Michael Franti, Luniz, Mac Dre, and Ras Kass and featured them as headlining–but we had to move the nights to Berbati’s and the Roseland. And with the POH-hop being a locally featured event, it’s kinda hard when you have a room the size of the Roseland, and the expenses are so high. That’s one of the reasons I had to downsize it this year–so we could keep it local and keep the costs down.”
Cool Nutz and his co-presenter, local musician/activist David Parks, opted to skip putting on POH-Hop last year, for reasons he attributes to a certain stagnation in the local scene. Despite the increasing visibility of the Lifesavas, and the overwhelming popularity of out-of-town performers like Aesop Rock and Atmosphere, it concerned Scott that other local acts had the talent, but weren’t getting the exposure. With POH-Hop 8, Scott hopes to increase awareness and spark interest in groups that may not even play shows very often, especially on a festival scale. “I feel like in the city, there’s not much interest in local hiphop except for a few entities. Portland hiphop is moving forward, but you only have a couple of groups establishing growth in the scene outside of Portland. So to be the catalyst for growth, we have to step up to bat and be responsible for that.”
On Thurs Dec 18, the Ash Street hosts POH-Hop’s Women in Hiphop Showcase, featuring Siren’s Echo, Piece, Turiya, Kay Kay, J-Kron, Sonnie, DJ Deena B, Beyonda, DJ Niz; On Fri Dec 19 at Berbati’s, catch Sleep, Maniac Lok, Brotha Luv, TD 32, Potluck, Young Fame, Bullet & Todd G, Cleveland Steamers, Mr. Meezalini, XTAC, Quivah, Dee Arthur & the Flytrapper, Myg, Sonny Bonoho, Trashheap, Face, and DJ Wicked. See Sidebar and Up and Coming, pg 21, for more details.
The Portland hip hop scene has been underrated and unappreciated in the mainstream media. It is, however increasing in popularity among underground hip hop heads worldwide. Heavy hitters in the Portland hip hop scene include Illmaculate of Sandpeople and his many achievements in the battle rap game, Cool Nutz and his many successful albums, productions, promotions and radio programs, Sleep of Oldominion and The Chicharones. These artists and many more are making waves in the underground hip hop game and putting the Portland hip hop scene on the map.
Sandpeople: ILLMACULATE, ETHIC, ONLYONE, SIMPLE, DJ SPARK, SAPIENT, AL-ONE, GOLD, IAME. Check out Portland hip hop super group Sandpeople’s online store
Sleep of Oldominion and member of major underground hip hop group The Chicharones
Luck One: Ill emcee hailing from the Portland Hip Hop scene, Luck One has gained a big name for himself in a relatively short amount of time.
Diezel P: One of my personal favorite Portland rappers, Diezel P does a lot of charity shows, volunteer work for the community and parks and recreations service. Diezel P really gives back in a major way, this dude deserves a lot of respect as an emcee and as a man.
Rocket One: Portland hip hop veteran, Rocket One, is one of Portland’s Hip Hop kings. With many big shows under his belt, respected master of ceremonies, Rocket One deserves his stature as one of Portland hip hops main contributors.
look out for more information about the Portland Hip Hop scene on Bad Habitat’s hip hop news.
Buy Damian Grey albums on CD Baby
Portland Hip Hop
The Portland Hip Hop scene has long been dominated by indie style alternative hip hop and west coast style gangsta rap. The blend of west coast swagger and northwest worldly consciousness makes the music made in Portland, Oregon 100% unique. Bad Habitat has been putting in work in the Portland Hip Hop scene and the Global Underground Hip Hop scene. The internet is a really powerful tool for independent artists. We believe this more than anyone and it has proven to payoff. Gaining more and more recognition everyday in the city of Portland and the rest of the world via the internet every day, Bad Habitat is quickly helping to put Portland Hip Hop on the map. Peace and respect to all other Portland Hip Hop artists, whether graffiti, dance, mc, dj or beatbox.
Underground Portland hip-hop emcee’s Dru Manchu and Mindskillz are Surreal Music. Flawless and Lady of Bad Habitat and Matriarx are also major members of Surreal Music. Portland Hip Hip wouldn’t be the same without these four artists. Former portland dj, DJ Cuttah is no longer a part of Surreal Music after mysteriously disappearing following a disappointing show for him. Assumed dead or mentaly incompetent DJ Cuttah will be missed. The Portland hip hop scene will most definitely miss him as well. Portland hip hop artists that bad habitat and surreal music have worked with are luck one, sleep of oldominion, iame of sandpeople . Other Surreal Music members include Mindskillz, Northorn Lights and Conflic. These portland emcees have worked with many other hip hop mc’s in the northwest hip hop scene. Below are some sweet links to hip hop related websites.
Five-year-old Felipe Gonzalez strolls out of the neighborhood grocery waving a purple Popsicle and juggling a bottle of iced tea.
“Stop,” says the young man with the little boy. “Your shoe is untied again.”
Hanif Collins, a friend of Felipe’s father, drops to one knee in the wet, rainy parking lot and ties the lace. The boy leans in and rests the icy Popsicle on Collins’ neck. They smile and stand.
“You da bad guy,” Felipe says, giggling as the two continue down the street.
“No,” Collins answers with a playful poke. “You da bad guy.”
Hanif Collins thinks a lot these days about what it means to be a bad guy and a good man. He was a boy who let impulse and anger unravel his life. Now he wants to be the man who can tie his life back together.
When he was 17, Collins pointed a gun at some drug dealers and stole their pot. In Oregon, there’s no leniency for armed robbery. Not even if you’re young. Collins was tried as an adult and spent nearly six years in prison.
Released at 23, Collins faced the chance to start again. He needed to find work despite a felony record and the worst recession in decades. He wanted to chase his dream of becoming a rapper. And he decided the only way to mourn a good friend was to be there for that friend’s little boy. View full sizeRoss William Hamilton/The OregonianHanif Collins and Felipe Gonzalez Jr. leave the library on Northeast Killingsworth Street where Collins and Felipe, 5, read books in English and Spanish. Collins hopes that spending time with his friend’s son will help the boy on his journey to manhood.Collins doesn’t fit the cliche of the young black man who finds trouble. He did not grow up an underprivileged child from a broken home.
He had two loving parents, played the alto sax in Metropolitan Youth Symphony ensembles from fifth through 11th grade. His devout Muslim family encouraged their youngest son to read books and think for himself.
So when his parents, Aqiylah and Omar Collins, first saw their son after his arrest, inside that tiny waiting room at the juvenile detention center, even before the hug, Aqiylah Collins couldn’t help but ask:
“Why are you here?”
Collins put his head down and said, “Bad choices.”
“I just wanted to be sure,” his mother continued, “because we did everything society tells you you’re supposed to do. We put you in after-school programs. You had mentors. You were in the youth symphony. We did everything we could to give you the resources to be successful. … So, I just want to be sure about why you are here.”
At 17, Collins was working and going to school full time. He and his friend, Felipe Gonzalez, were part of a rap group called the 7th Science Collective. They were born 17 days apart, loved to spar with words and were about to release their first album.
But Collins confesses that he also had a lot of anger. Maybe it came from reading books like the “Autobiography of Malcolm X” when he was 11.
“I read a lot of things that were good for me to read, but I don’t think I was really ready for them,” he says. “It kind of caused me, I think, to take a stance like anti-everything. Anti-society.”
The summer of 2002, he remembers, was “the summer of chaos.”
“I was around a lot of people doing negative things, and I was one of them. I wasn’t innocent.”
In fact, he bluntly confesses, “I was a stick-up kid.”
The more he robbed people, the more invincible he felt. So when a friend talked about robbing a guy living in an affluent Portland suburb who had a lot of weed, Collins was in.
Only this time, Collins said, he had a bad feeling.
“We were driving out there and I was thinking, ‘Man, this might be my last one.’”
June 26, 2002: The robbery went pretty much as planned. But when Collins and his partner got back to the car, they found the driver had shut off the motor, was smoking a cigarette and listening to the radio. That gave the angry drug dealers time to catch up.
Afraid of being shot, Collins drew his .22 caliber handgun and pulled the trigger. The gun jammed. He and his partner handed the marijuana over and ran. They were about two blocks away when they realized their driver wasn’t behind them.
They went back only to discover he’d run in a different direction. And, they found a swarm of police cars and motorcycles.
On Dec. 13, 2002, Collins began a 70-month prison sentence. He was young. Outspoken. Defiant. He spent eight months in the custody of the Oregon Youth Authority, then was transferred to adult prison. He arrived at the Eastern Oregon Correctional Institution near Pendleton wearing a white jumpsuit and rubber sandals.
He felt like the kid he was.
“You’re chained to about 20 dudes by your wrists and your ankles. And you’re shuffling in with those tiny little steps,” he says. “I’m 18. Just imagine that. These dudes are convicts, killers, tattoos on their face.”
Unlike the movie portrayals of solitary confinement, Collins found the hole wasn’t such a bad thing. He fasted. Prayed. Exercised. He played solo chess, taught himself to speak Spanish and read voraciously.
He was days from finishing a 120-day stint for a fight when the letter arrived.
Out of all his “homies” on the outside, his friend Felipe was one of the few who never wrote him after he went to jail. Collins had started a letter to his friend many times in his head: “Ey dog, what’s up man? How you living?”
The letter from Sonny, Collins’ cousin, was pretty typical until Sonny mentioned that he’d gone to Felipe’s wake.
Collins stopped reading.
Excuse me?
Felipe was killed in a car accident, Sonny wrote. He died on impact.
Collins must have read that letter 50 times. “I never had anybody close to me just die.”
A year and three days from getting out of prison, Collins had counted the long days but suddenly he understood how short life can be.
He promised himself he’d make up for lost time. He’d make sure his life stood for something. Later, he remembered Felipe in a song he wrote: “Yo, I knew a young man shining lost his life in a crash, 22 but living life in a flash, the cycles impasse/was taken from the righteous with his likable mass and all I’m think is that coulda been me/ ”
Two months after Sonny’s letter, Collins wrote to Felipe’s parents: “Hearing about my boy’s untimely demise, I felt a lot of regret.”
In neat cursive on two pages of lined notebook paper, he closed with a promise: “I heard that since my imprisonment Felipe had a son. I would very much like it if, when I get out and Lord willing get my life together, I could play a part in helping him along in his journey to manhood.”
View full sizeRoss William Hamilton/The OregonianHanif Collins performs at an Old Town club. His counselor says lots of young men get out of prison wanting to be rappers. Collins is the only one he knows who is actually doing it.It’s a hot July night and almost a year to the day since Collins got out of prison. He greets a mostly white audience at the Southeast Portland club Rotture like an old pro.
“Hey, yo! What’s up Portland? How ya doing out there?”
Wearing baggy jeans, an oversized orange T-shirt and a necklace of wood beads that had belonged to Felipe, Collins introduces himself to the crowd as “Luck-One Conscious” — his emcee name.
Then he dives into a rap: “Back in 1984, a child came glow on the low, lo and behold I was fresh…”
Young women in tight jeans push their way to the front to dance and flirt.
After the set, the crowd lines up to buy the CDs Collins sells from a cracked brown vinyl bag slung over his shoulder.
The CD, “Beautiful Music,” contains seven tracks ranging from synthesized ’80s beat to jazzy blues to bang-it-out rap. The lyrics speak to prison and prejudice but also to peace and a 17-year-old girl who “abolished the misconception of her race” by graduating with a scholarship. The songs recognize reality but also urge listeners to dream.
Surrounded by the crowd, Collins wipes his sweat with a towel someone offers. In a voice hoarse from performing, he jokes that he feels like a rock star.
Life is good.
But not like a rock star.
“Home” now is a small room on the fifth floor of an old downtown Portland hotel. Collins cooks with a hotplate, convection oven and toaster.
His bookshelf overflows with titles for a young man intent on improvement: Barack Obama’s “Audacity of Hope,” “Gandhi: An Autobiography,” “The Souls of Black Folk” by W.E.B. DuBois. There’s also: “The Idiots Guide to Real Estate Investing,” “Spanish the Easy Way” and “Limited Liability Companies for Dummies.”
In the weeks before he got out of prison, Collins’ parents worried about their son. He’d become an adult while locked up. His father wondered: Had his boy matured psychologically?
Shortly after his release, Collins went to his parents’ Vancouver home seeking advice. That, Omar Collins notes with a smile, was something his son had not done before.
Collins had been warned about the sour economy and scarcity of jobs. But he was determined.
“I always felt like there’s nothing that can stop an individual as long as they put their mind to it,” he says. “I was like, ‘I don’t know what you’re doing but I know what I’m doing and getting a job is mandatory.’”
It didn’t take long for him to talk his way into an office, answering phones, filing and doing simple accounting. He had a hunch it wouldn’t last. His skills were rusty, and he admits he spent too much time on the Internet.
His back-up plan involved a trade apprentice program to become a roofer.
By the time he was laid off from the office job, Collins had lined up roofing work. But in August, with construction slow, he was laid off again.
These days Collins is working two jobs and says he may have to line up a third. He’s marketing gourmet cookware, and this week, he landed a second job canvassing customers for a home siding company.
Music remains his priority, and Collins invests money from performances back into his business, “Architect Entertainment LLC.”
Proceeds from his CD — $420 so far — go to FreeTheKids.org, a nonprofit that helps impoverished children in Haiti. Collins says he wants to use his music to create some good.
“I could take this money and buy T-shirts and stuff,” he says. “But to them it means so much more.”
Justin Heilenbach, the counselor who helped Collins make the transition from prison to the outside, says at least one in 10 of the young inmates he works with wants to be a rapper. Collins “is the only one who is doing it.”
Still on parole supervision, Collins has received permission to travel to other states for performances. This fall he flew to Miami and then on to Atlanta.
He sends reviews, show posters and pictures to his friends who are still locked up.
Nicholas McCarty, an inmate at a medium security prison near Salem, says he’s heard Collins on a local station, KXJM 107.5, on Saturday nights.
“For people that know him, it’s inspiring to hear his music,” says McCarty, 29. “He symbolizes to me the ability to use will to overcome obstacles.”
Collins says rap is all he ever wanted to do, all he and Felipe ever talked about. He knows it sounds strange, but he guesses he’d become a teacher if the music thing doesn’t work out.
But for now, rap is his world. And he feels as though Felipe is guiding him.
“I come across scenarios and opportunities, and I feel like he’s playing a role presenting them to me. Opening doors for me. You know what I mean? Like, ‘I can’t do it but you can do it for me. We can do it together.’”
Martin Gonzalez, Felipe’s father and a member of the Portland School Board, says he cried when he read the letter Collins wrote two years ago promising to be part of his grandson’s life.
“I have to tell you,” Gonzalez says, “that young man delivered on what he wrote.”
Among the other promises Collins has kept since his release is the one he made to himself.
He logged 23 misconduct violations during his time in prison. He has not had one parole violation since his release.
“As far as getting in trouble,” Collins says, “I let that go a long time ago.”
Bad Habitat is the hip-hop equivalent of The Three Musketeers, with the swagger of a young Rat Pack, and a style all their own. Forming early in the summer of 2008, Dru Manchu, Flawless, and Damian Grey have since stolen hundreds of shows, amassed a loyal fan base, and built a reputation as “One of the most underrated groups in the Portland hip-hop scene…” (Willamette Week). Intent on making intelligent, yet danceable music, Bad Habitat has developed an aggressive, progressive sound that incorporates real life lyricism mixed with over the top braggadocio and an original flavor of beats.
Although hip-hop at its core, their influences from a variety of genres have resulted in a brand new sound that shatters the traditional genre confines of what constitutes hip-hop, while remaining true to the roots of the art form. From true heads to casual hip hop fans, punk rockers to teeny boppers, Bad Habitat has managed to find firm footing on a previously undiscovered common ground, bridging the gaps between genres that have no rightful place blending together. Yet somehow, they make it work…
With more than three years performing experience behind each of them individually, (over a decade in Damian’s case) Bad Habitat’s combined lyrical prowess is just as impressive as the beats they choose to devour. Each member brings his own unique polished style to the table, be it the consistent punch-lines from Manchu, the quick attacking syllables from Flawless, or the raw emotion and “been there, done that” attitude of Damian Grey. Gaining attention with their high energy live show, they literally burst onto the scene, performing over 115 shows in their first year together. Bad Habitat has conquered almost every notable venue in their region, as well as traveling as far as Sacramento, CA and Seattle, WA, rocking heads along the way.
Regarding former member DJ Cuttah: He is presumed to be dead most likely eaten by Manbearpig or Opera.
Bad Habitat are the self proclaimed 3 Musketeers of NW hiphop, although their membership currently includes 4 members: emcees Dru-Manchu, Flawless, and Damian Grey, along with DJ Cuttah. Damian Grey is better known as Trafek of the long established SE Portland crew Trash Heap, and was the last member to join Bad Habitat. Dru-Manchu and Flawless are former members of the Portland supercrew The Surrealest. Despite being a recent addition to the NW hiphop scene Bad Habitat has already built a strong reputation centering around a high energy live show and the charisma of its members. Bad Habitat is based in Portland, Oregon.
Few hiphop performers can style a written flow as well as Sleepyhead, and even fewer can project a larger-than-life image of themselves on a listener who’s never seen them. His stellar recorded presence might lead to a mental picture of a six-foot scrapper with a battle record to match his spoken swagger. Were that the case, he might be Portland’s favorite rapper. But at five feet and change, and looking to be about 120 pounds, Sleepyhead—his nom de reality is Kevin Elder—is a bit like a tiny pilot who climbs into the cockpit of a hulking robot to record rap records. Good ones.
I first heard of Sleepyhead back in 2003 when a song of his, “Rip Van Winkle,” played on DJ Kez’s KBOO radio show. The slow, warm-hearted funk of the beat mixed with Sleepyhead’s cascading cadence reminded me of all the best elements of fun hiphop (which is probably why I taped the show and played back that song about five times in a row). “Rip Van Winkle” is on Sleepyhead’s first release, Narcolepsy, and to this day stands as one of my favorite tracks ever.
In the intervening five years since the release of Narcolepsy, Sleepyhead has dipped in and out of the local rap scene and now mostly collaborates with Portland electronica luminaries like Copy and Casiocity. The few times that I ran into him around town I would always bug him about making a new record, but to me it seemed like he had gotten his fill of the rap scene and had moved on to other creative endeavors. Thankfully, this month Sleepyhead has proven me wrong by dropping another stellar disc, No School.
A gradual change in Sleepyhead’s musical inspiration over the years is present in the production and overall sound of No School. The album features fewer sample-based creations and more glitchy tracks, a divergence that takes the record further from the traditional sonic meanders of hiphop and more toward the laptop beat scene. “[The change] really wasn’t intentional,” says Elder. “I just knew so many people making beats, and my friends are making those kinds of beats.”
This transition for Sleepyhead was not that surprising, and besides, Portland’s underground rap scene never really assimilated Sleepyhead—he of small stature, poof-ball hat, and thrift-store wardrobe. You can’t front on a guy for naturally gravitating toward friendlier stages. “[My music] is kind of leftfield in comparison to some of the other members of the hiphop scene around town,” he explains. “I’m really a [hiphop] purist in a sense. Still, you have to keep it interesting and stop recycling the same music over and over.”
While Sleepyhead is still making good hiphop, he’s just not creating it with the co-sign of many other established members of that group. Hip hop in Portland, and the nation over, has splintered, with fans of any one of its multiple shards not necessarily fans of the others. Still, true heads can appreciate good hip hop from the street side, the backpack side, and from anywhere else as well. Sleepyhead’s musical locale is not one populated by Timbs or LRG, but it is home to fresh beats and rhymes, and while it may be out of your comfort zone, that doesn’t mean it ain’t dope.
- The same is true for many Portland hip hop artists. While a few have came from gangster backgrounds, most are just normal hip hop people. What does that mean? well most folks have it rough growing up. That’s one of the main contributing factors for whether or not people like hip hop. Studies show that people who grew up poor or in broken homes gravitate to subversive culture like hip hop. That being said, Portland is not an extremely violent city. In fact it is very peaceful. There are random violent events and gang violence in certain neighborhoods, but for the most part the extent of the violence is street fights and bar brawls. While most “hip hop” music that can be found on the radio contains content about Money, Cars, Bitches and Drugs the real hip hop music that comes from the Portland hip hop scene is true to the roots of hip hop. It is about culture, the streets, life. It is conscious, open minded and enlightening. It can also be in your face, violent and offensive, but thats still a major step up from the garbage that plays thousands of times a day on the radio. While I am not familiar with Sleepy Head, I am familiar with a lot of hip hop artists in Portland, and this article could include any one of them as contenders for up and coming, unique, influential and brilliant hip hop artists.
“This one is from Santotzin of the real BROWN RECLUSE in Portland, Oregon
www.brownglass.com www.geocities.com/santotzin/Santotzin.ht ml
The Thorn gots mad styles…From Old Dominion to Evil Hands, Trash Heap to Jus Family. Crazy love to all the kids doin it and crazy peace to all the haters, support your locals and we’ll all come up, dummies! Peace to Manic D, MiNos, Uziah, Guzu, Jason “JJ” Cutta and my Brown Recluse homies. Check out: Afro Funk @Conans on Mon, Thorn City Improv @Ash Street Saloon on Tu, The Cut Hut @Cobalt Lounge on Wed and Trash Heap @Oak Grove Bar & Grill on Fri.Peace www.brownglass.com”
Word Santo
I don’t know if those shows are still going on but you can probably still catch most of those acts at those locations. Damian Grey aka Trafek of Trash Heap is now with Bad Habitat of Surreal Music and A Product of Broken Homes. They rock Club Calabash, Ash St, Pine St, Rodders, Barracuda, The Roseland, and Berbatis to name a few. Portland hip hop at its finest yo.
MYG and Indamix Records are a staple in Portland Hip Hop. As one of Portland Hip-Hops most succesful artists, MYG has made a name for himself online and on the streets.
At the top of the West, hip-hop is thriving. From the righteous rhyme of Blue Scholars and Ohmega Watts to the infectious party-rap of The Saturday Knights, here’s a taste of the region’s best hip-hop.
The Seattle hip-hop duo follows its excellent self-titled debut and the equally strong Long March EP with a stunning album that sets the bar ever higher for Northwest hip-hop. Sabzi’s production is still warm and soulful, but it’s more confident, varied and distinctive. Geologic continues to grow as a rapper, combining his smooth, laid-back flow with smart, plain-spoken rhymes rooted in being a self-professed ordinary guy. His blue-collar perspective shines a bright spotlight on race and class issues, while also providing stirring inspiration for the city and country to do better.
This Portland rapper/producer’s second solo album is another expansive set of underground hip-hop, combining an eclectic sound and a variety of styles with socially conscious lyrics.
The third solo album from this Seattle born-and-raised member of Portland hip-hop crew Lightheaded is a first-rate, flag-free set of upbeat underground hip-hop with plenty of old-school flavor.
Part of the Northwest hip-hop collective oldominion, the Seattle duo of Onry Ozzborn and JFK brilliantly reconstruct a variety of hip-hop styles on Bloody Radio. While the sinister vibe of the group’s debut can still be found here, it’s filtered through everything from crunk and double-time to underground emo, bringing a wider stylistic range for the duo’s smart and imaginative lyrics.
This Seattle group makes its debut with a fun four-song EP of irresistible, party-rocking hip-hop with live instrumentation, including some crunchy rock guitar riffs.
The Saturday Nights (Light in the Attic)
Kevin Cole hosts The Afternoon Show on KEXP 90.3 FM Seattle & KEXP.org. Discover music through a diverse mix of new releases, “sneak-peaks” at forthcoming releases, seminal vintage tracks, rarities, B-sides, and exclusive in-studio performances.
Seattle-based KEXP presents a diverse mix of music, live performances and podcasts from indie-rock, punk and hip-hop to old-school soul and world music.
NPR Reports about Northwest Hip Hop… but doesn’t mention much about Portland Hip Hop. Oh well, what does NPR know about Sandpeople, Illmaculate, Bad Habitat, Sleep, Luck One, etc. While Portland hip hop hasn’t blown up nearly as much, it has gained a lot of fame worldwide in the underground hip hop community.
During the late 1970s, high school kids from the Rainier Beach, Rainier Valley, and Central District areas started to perfect early hip hop forms of dancing in the northwest defined as bopping. Many of the local underage clubs and high schools in south Seattle held formal contests called bop-offs where dancers would compete against one another. There were also informal bop offs that occurred at house parties and school yards where urban kids “called out” one another to compete. Some of the more prominent dancers (or boppers) during this period were James “PJ” Daniels, John “Sir John III” Arnold, James Croone, Pojo, Snake, among others in the south Seattle area. Bopping, also known as poppin, was seen as the precursor for many popular forms of urban style dancing today.
In the early 1980s, soldiers positioned at Tacoma’s military bases provided the foundation for a growing hip-hop fan base in the Northwest. This increased demand for hip-hop coincided with some of the first hip-hop dances in Seattle, which were held at public-housing recreation centers and featured the Emerald Street Boys and Anthony “Sir Mix-A-Lot” Ray. Simultaneously, “Nasty Nes” Rodriguez launched the Northwest’s first all-rap radio program, Fresh Tracks, and soon Nasty Nes began airing self-produced tracks by Sir Mix-A-Lot, as well as the Emerald Street Boys, MC LeRap, PDQ, and Andy Hamlin. As Seattle’s music scene evolved, so did the Seattle breakdance and graffiti crews; with B-Boy groups Silver Chain Gang, Circuit Breakers, Breaking Mechanism, Paradise Breakers, Floor Rockers, and the Incredible Connection Crew. Graffiti writers included Spaide, DadOne, Spraycan, Duck & Shame, SoloDoe, Image 8000, Kaze, Mr. Clean, Kould, Skeme, KeepOne, Nemo, MoeLove, and Skreen. In 1985 Nastymix Records, the Northwest’s first hip-hop label was founded with the local release of Sir Mix-A-Lot’s “Square Dance Rap”, which sold approximately 75,000 copies. Nastymix Records gained national recognition with Sir Mix’s 1988 “Posse on Broadway”, and reached its peak in 1993 with Mix’s Grammy Award for Best Rap Solo Performance for “Baby Got Back.” Unfortunately this prestigious award was bestowed after Nastymix’s last culturally influential release, Criminal Nation’s 1992 album Trouble in the Hood, and thus harkened the demise of the Northwest’s sway over popular rap music. In 1992, Portland’s Jus Family Records was established by Bosco “Bosko” Kante and Terrance “Cool Nutz” Scott, and would go on to become an enduring Northwest hip-hop institution. The foundation of Jus Family Records is important, as it would continue to release records throughout the three phases of Northwest hip-hop and would shape and be shaped by the culture accordingly.
1993 to 2002: the second phase
With the departure of Seattle hip-hop from the national scene came the long absence of Northwest hip-hop, and with the success of Sir Mix-A-Lot came countless hip-hop heads and hopefuls including E-Dawg, the Elite, PD2, Moving Target, Little Boy Productions, Silver Shadow D, and CAVE’. Seattle hip-hop culture was confined to the only venues that would play hip-hop, all of which were in Seattle’s traditionally African-American neighborhood, the Central District (referred to in Seattle as “The CD”.) In 1993, Jonathon “Wordsayer” Moore of Source of Labor approached Caroline Davenport of Tasty Shows, who was responsible for booking a popular Seattle venue called RCKCNDY. After weeks of persistence, RCKCNDY became the first venue outside of the CD to host local hip-hop shows, and the second phase of Seattle hip-hop took its first faltering steps.
The alternative/grunge music scene soon dominated the Northwest’s musical image, and in both Seattle and Portland this contributed to the troubled adolescence of local hip-hop. The Teen Dance Ordinance, which had been in effect since 1985, made it almost impossible for most Seattle venues to book all-ages shows. Consequently, the first club to book Seattle hip-hop outside of the Central District since the decline of Nastymix Records, RCKCNDY, was closed down due to a persistent failure to break even. The social turmoil of Seattle during the late 1990s (The World Trade Organization Protest), the city’s outspoken political opposition to President George W. Bush, and the despised Teen Dance Ordinance characterized the socially conscious style that defined Northwest hip-hop after 1993, a style that was continually strengthened as the hip-hop culture was attacked and labeled as violent and disruptive. On August 26 Bartell Coleman was shot in the leg outside of a Cool Nutz show at LaLuna, a popular night club in Portland. The shooting was not linked to the concert inside the club, but Drugs and Vice Detective Bill Calder, when asked how LaLuna might avoid future problems, stated, “Not having hip-hop shows.” After several complaints about disruptive behavior outside of another Portland club, Belmont’s, following shows by DJ Chill, also on Jus Family Records; Belmont’s ceased playing live music. For several months afterwards, hip-hop shows were not booked to Portland clubs. In 2002 the Teen Dance Ordinance was lifted and replaced by the less draconian All-ages Dance Ordinance and hip-hop began its powerful Northwest resurgence.
2002 to present: the third phase
The departure of the TDO in 2002 meant small Seattle venues could afford to host local hip-hop and consequently Northwest hip-hop blossomed under the influence of Seattle’s enthusiasm. Currently, the Northwest maintains a self-perpetuating underground hip-hop movement, a culture that is maintained almost entirely by word of mouth, local interest, and internet exposure.
The Minneapolis based Rhymesayers Entertainment, a quickly growing record label, has signed multiple artists from Seattle (Boom Bap Project, Grayskul, Jake One, and Vitamin D), which also contributes to its growth. Blue Scholars and their label Massline Media are also beginning to receive national attention.
Portland Hip Hop has also recently grown to be a power house in the Northwest hip hop scene.
Bad Habitat are the self proclaimed 3 Musketeers of NW hiphop, although their membership currently includes 4 members: emcees Dru-Manchu, Flawless, and Damian Grey, along with DJ Cuttah. Damian Grey is better known as Trafek of the long established SE Portland crew Trash Heap, and was the last member to join Bad Habitat. Dru-Manchu and Flawless are former members of the Portland supercrew The Surrealest. Despite being a recent addition to the NW hiphop scene Bad Habitat has already built a strong reputation centering around a high energy live show and the charisma of its members. Bad Habitat is based in Portland, Oregon.
Flawless: From the Beaverton Area, Flawless has been laying down dope beats and quality flows for years in the Portland Area. Flawless is Portland Hip Hop.
Dru Manchu: From South East Portland, Dru Manchu gets mad props on his rhyme skills and word play. He is a real fresh rapper from Portland. He represents Northwest Rap and Dru Manchu is Portland Hip Hop.
Damian Grey: Damian Grey formerly known as Trafek is a Portland Rap veteran. With former group Trash Heap, Damian Grey, or rather at that time Trafek, he made a name for himself as a master on production and flows. Damian Grey is Portland Hip Hop
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