When you talk about the recent history of Northwest hip-hop, you have to talk about Oldominion.
The crew, formed in late 1998, connects down the I-5 corridor between Seattle and Portland, and runs 20-deep with some of the best rappers the rainy states have to offer. Between them they’ve released dozens of records and, perhaps more than anyone else, acted as ambassadors to the country for Northwest underground hip-hop.
“That was one of the things we agreed on back then,” says original crew member Onry Ozbborn. “We weren’t just content with being the big name out here, we wanted to get out and make a name for ourselves at a worldwide level.”
Oldominion’s early sound was defined by dark, brooding beats and a particularly gloomy lyrical outlook, a shivering, rain-soaked version of the Wu-Tang Clan. But as the crew has ballooned in size from the original 10 to more than 20 it too has expanded in sonic quality. It’s actually kind of astounding.
There’s the bullet-quick storytelling of Portland’s Sleep. There’s the good-time party music of Seattle’s The Saturday Knights. The sheer number of musical projects associated with the crew ensures vitality. It helps that the group seems to attract diverse talent.
“[New crew members] always bring something to the table that’s unique,” Ozzborn says. “A lot of crews seem to form off of who does the same thing, y’know, who has the same kinda feel, talks about the same topics, whatever. And then you have 10 members in your crew who all sound alike or talk about the same thing.”
Oldominion recently celebrated its 10th anniversary with a series of shows in Seattle, and Ozzborn says that a massive two-disc crew album, Number 9, will see release before the end of the year.
Among the best known of Oldominion projects is the Seattle duo Grayskul, comprised of emcees Ozzborn and JFK. They’ve been signed to the Ryhmesayers label, a giant of indie hip-hop, since 2003. Their most recent album, 2007’s Bloody Radio, is designed as a response to the rap you hear on the radio, a re-imagining of the sounds cranked out by on-air DJs.
“We just wanted to prove that you can still do those kinda songs and you don’t have to sacrifice, you can say something on them,” Ozzborn says. “You don’t have to dumb it down to a point where it’s just stupid for people to dance or just to have something sound good in your car. We just wanted to pinpoint on making radio friendly music that actually means something.”
And while their songs didn’t end up on a lot of mainstream airwaves, the album is a decisive triumph, lyrically dense and nuanced, but also catchy.
Ozzborn got his start as an emcee after hearing Run DMC when he was eight. Eventually he left his career as a college baseball player to pursue his music, which has been a full-time job since 2000. Since then he’s been a consistent force in the Northwest scene, releasing solo and group albums that are consistent in vision and sound—maybe a little dark, and definitely thoughtful.
“I’m just now, after doing it for so long, I’m just now getting comfortable with the way I make music,” he says.
Ozzborn has witnessed a lot of changes in our corner of the country’s hip-hop scene. For one, he says, it’s definitely bigger. And, perhaps for the worse, a lot more professional and disconnected.
“In general, the way I see, and I’m not trying to be old-fashioned, people just don’t communicate anymore,” he says. “It’s either a text message, an IM, an e-mail, whatever. They don’t have to talk to each other anymore so people really don’t give a shit about each other anymore. … People are just dead inside, that’s the way I look at it. It’s really weird compared to how it used to be. It’s just all business oriented.”
It’s easy to understand what he’s saying. And that’s probably why it’s also easy to appreciate the way Oldominion does their music. In an age where it seems more important for an underground rapper to have a fresh MySpace page than a fresh beat, the crew consistently releases quality albums.
“Any originality is really walking a fine line because it either does good or people hate it,” Ozzborn says. “That used to be the whole thing with hip-hop, people wanted an original sound. Now it’s like ‘oh, you don’t sound this, that, the other, so I’m not into it.'”
He may sound angry and disillusioned, but Ozzborn’s criticisms come from a deep-set love of the genre. Lucky for us, 10 years on, Oldominion are still putting out the records Northwest hip-hop deserves.
“I know there’s people out there who are still into it,” he says. ‘And that’s why I still do this.”