2

“Go back the other way, we’ll stop and eat at Dick’s”

Seattle Hip Hop in the 1980s

BEFORE they even met as teens, James Croone and Edward Wells had heard of each other. In the Wild West atmosphere of hip hop that was Seattle’s Central District in the early 1980s, word spread quickly once it became known that someone could rap or dance. Young hip-hop kids became like traveling gunfighters going from town to town looking for a duel. Countless “battles” took place in parks, on sidewalks, and in backyards all over the CD. Croone and Wells had both become hooked on hip hop after hearing “Rapper’s Delight.” They worked on their dance moves and rap skills, practicing on the way to school and entering talent shows. When Wells heard that there was another kid in the neighborhood who might be able to take him out, he went on a mission. Wells and Croone met and battled, each leaving impressed with the other. It was this confrontation that introduced Eddie “Sugar Bear” Wells and James “Captain Crunch” Croone.¹

Wells and Croone formed their first group together, The Terrible 2, in 1980. By this time, some Seattle nightclubs had started to offer open mic nights in response to the surging popularity of rap music. However, few people were ready to perform in public, and nearly all of them were teenagers like Wells and Croone. Despite this, popular club Lateef’s in South Seattle was holding regular open mic nights as well as actual rap contests.² The Terrible 2 entered their first rap contest at Lateef’s and lost to another duo, Gary Jam and Big Boss Cross, known collectively as Jam Delight. Croone and Wells then met Robert “Sweet J” Jamerson, whose addition to the group meant the name would have to be changed. After a naming competition held in the summer of 1981, the Seattle-King County Convention and Visitors Bureau adopted the nickname “The Emerald City” in an effort to promote tourism. Since Croone, Wells, and Jamerson had all grown up on the streets of Seattle, Wells came up with the group’s new name: the Emerald Street Boys.³

Emerald Street Boys Develop the Rap Scene

As the Emerald Street Boys became more polished, they began performing at venues like the Empire Plaza on Empire Way (today’s Martin Luther King Jr. Way), the Nighthawk in South Seattle, and various events for the Central Area Motivation Program (CAMP), which promoted institutional and community change through advocacy. Soon the group started playing spots that catered to more traditionally white audiences, such as Fisherman’s Restaurant on Pier 57 and the Dragon Palace on Broadway, where the Emerald Street Boys appeared on the bill with an assortment of new wave bands. In addition, the group made appearances at community events such as the Black Community Festival in Judkins Park and the cultural and music festivals Bumbershoot and Festival Sundiata, both held at the Seattle Center.⁴

By early 1982, the Emerald Street Boys had started to generate some buzz in the local media. In February the group performed a benefit at the National Guard Armory on Elliot Avenue, which was reviewed by journalist Robert Newman in The Rocket. “The Emerald Street Boys lived up to their reputation,” Newman wrote. “Seattle may not be the Bronx, but the Boys are great. They did a mighty job of rapping and rocking the house.” After noting their ages (at the time Croone and Jamerson were sixteen, Wells fifteen) Newman continued: “Although the word cute does come to mind, the Boys are both talented and sophisticated in both dancing and rapping. Rapping in unison is this group’s strength, and they use it to good effect.” He ended the review this way: “The Emerald Street Boys have been together for about a year and a half, playing clubs and parties around Seattle, and the word on the street is that they’re this city’s best.” ⁵

The June 1982 issue of The Rocket featured a review of a mix performed by Wells (aka Sugar Bear). Writer Karl Kotas lamented the fact that Sugar Bear, like numerous other DJs at the time, had made Tom Tom Club’s 1981 hit “Genius of Love” the focus of his mix. After labeling the Emerald Street Boys “the best known of local rap ensembles,” Kotas explained: “While unable to wax rhapsodic due to overexposure to the underlying material, I must note that it is an interesting reworking . . . executed with technical competence. The realization that this had been cut ‘live’ with two turntables and a mixing board made for a more appreciative listening.” Kotas mentioned Sugar Bear’s inclusion of vocal samples from such celebrities Ed McMahon, Steve Martin, and Richard Pryor, concluding that while “sometimes eerie and often witty, this is as good as similar East Coast material.” Kotas noted that although Sugar Bear’s mixes were not available commercially, they could be heard on radio station KRAB’s (107.7 FM) weekday afternoon drive program Urban Renewal hosted by Herb Levy.⁶

The Emerald Street Boys won the All City Rap-Off at the 1982 Black Community Festival and also opened for the Gap Band at the Seattle Center Arena. They performed with the Silver Chain Gang (Duke of Earl, Sir Wesley, and Jazzy D) and the Emerald Street Girls (formed as a duo about a year after the debut of the Emerald Street Boys) at the high-profie fifth anniversary party of the performing arts theater On the Boards. By now, the competitive climate of hip hop in Seattle had begun to take shape with acts like 3D, West Coast Funk Brigade, Deputy Rhyme, West Side Threat, and Duke & Double Rock contributing to the depth of local talent. Most of this music reflected the traditional Roland 808 drum machine–based New York style, the techno/funk-centric sound of early Los Angeles hip hop, or a combination of both.⁷

Soon after formation of the Emerald Street Boys, “Nasty” Nes Rodriguez, a Filipino American DJ and radio personality on station KKFX (KFOX) 1250 AM, became their DJ. At live events Rodriguez would play instrumentals from popular twelve-inch singles for the group to rhyme and dance to. The Emerald Street Boys also performed the introduction for Nes’s show on KFOX.⁸ This early African American–Asian American collaboration in a rap group wasn’t entirely unique to Seattle but set multiethnic collaborative work as part of the foundation of the Seattle hip-hop scene.

In 1983 the Emerald Street Boys continued to play local events like Bumbershoot and the Seafair Parade. Newman, who had written several articles on the Emerald Street Boys for The Rocket, marched in the Seafair Parade with the group. They “danced and performed along the parade route, attracting a giant crowd of adoring teens,” he recalled. “Their soundtrack consisted of me carrying a giant boombox and playing the instrumental side of [Grandmaster Flash & the Furious Five’s hit 1983 song] ‘The Message’ over and over.” ⁹ The Emerald Street Boys were doing shows not only in the Seattle area but also in Portland, Oregon, and Canada. Also that year the group recorded Seattle’s first rap record, Christmas Rap (B side “The Move”), produced by Tony “Tony B” Benton and released by his label Telemusic Productions. Benton had learned the music business in 1978 while working at Music Menu record store. He had formed an R&B group named Teleclere, and their single “Ultra Groove,” written about in The Rocket, became the number one song on “C-89” KNHC 89.5 FM. Benton supervised the live instrumentation that served as the music for “Christmas Rap” and “The Move.” As the first local artists to release a rap record, the Emerald Street Boys emerged as one of the early faces of the Seattle hip-hop scene.¹⁰

In 1984 the New York group the Treacherous Three—Special K, L.A. Sunshine, and Kool Moe Dee—was one of the best known rap groups in the world. Run DMC had yet to truly take off, having just released their self-titled debut album. As Newman noted in The Rocket: “Now that Grandmaster Flash and the Furious 5 have splintered, there’s no group that can touch the [Treacherous] 3’s track record.” Coming into their performance at the Seattle Center Exhibition Hall, the Treacherous Three were fresh off their scene-stealing appearance in the iconic hip-hop movie Beat Street, where they performed the memorable song “Santa Rap.” In addition, the Treacherous Three had a starring role in the pilot for the new hip-hop television variety show Graffiti Rock. Event promoter Ed Locke billed the Seattle show as the “Beat Street Breakdown.” ¹¹ Before the show the two crews hung out together as the Emerald Street Boys showed the Treacherous Three around Seattle. The groups played basketball against each other and even held an impromptu dance battle while downtown, which the Emerald Street Boys claimed to have won.¹² Newman echoed this likelihood in his review of the concert in The Rocket. “As dancers,” he wrote, “they [the Treacherous Three] couldn’t match the popping pyrotechnics of the opening act, the Emerald Street Boys.” ¹³

The range of the Emerald Street Boys soon extended beyond recording songs and preparing dance routines. Local director Steve Sneed had worked on community programs at the Central District Boys & Girls Club in 1981. With a background in theater, he started collaborating with Reco Bembry to produce Street Life, an original play written by James Lollie. The play, which included members of the Emerald Street Boys, ran at the Broadway Performance Hall on the campus of Seattle Central Community College in 1985. Sneed and Bembry, who helped manage the Emerald Street Boys and would eventually form a production company called Sneeco, developed the connection between local theater and hip hop with 1986’s Boys Will B-Boys. Housed at On the Boards and originally set to feature the Emerald Street Boys, internal conflicts and disagreements within the group forced the producers to recast the Silver Chain Gang in the starring role. This essentially marked the beginning of the end for the Emerald Street Boys as the face of early Seattle hip hop. As more local artists emerged amid the quickly expanding cultural landscape, fresh and new options became increasingly available. In time, the Emerald Street Boys, and most other early groups, disbanded and went on to do other things.

Sneed continued his work at the Langston Hughes Performing Arts Institute in the Central District in 1988. The Langston Hughes facility was largely vacant at the time, did not have an overseeing board, and there was talk from the city of tearing down the building. Sneed organized the center and focused on making space available to community artists, musicians, and other performers in need of venues and practice space. The idea was based on the “late night” basketball model employed by community centers across the country, which made gyms available for teenagers to drop in and play at such nontraditional hours as Friday and Saturday nights. Similarly, Sneed made Langston Hughes available for drop-in rehearsals and performances. Combined with classes on acting, theater, and music production, the program allowed hundreds of local youth to develop skills and interests in the arts in an era when these programs were being eliminated in schools. Another example of Sneed’s work at Langston Hughes intersecting with hip hop was a play called Peer Pressure, which featured Derrick “Vitamin D” Brown.¹⁴

As the Emerald Street Boys moved on, many things about the group and its significance reverberated throughout the local scene for decades. The initial mixed racial composition of the group, engagement with other non–hip-hop community arts associations, the endorsement of performers who reflected gender diversity, and the dedication to growing community spaces for youth and others to create opportunities for supporting hip-hop arts and culture in a grassroots way all carried on in Seattle’s hip-hop world for years to come.

Seattle Breaking and Graffiti in the Early 1980s

Although Seattle rappers received a good deal of attention early on, local participants in other areas of hip hop were also laying foundations. In 1984 the Seattle Times ran a feature story on breaking in its Arts and Entertainment section. In the largest and oldest daily newspaper in town, this story introduced many in Seattle to hip hop for the first time. “Break dancing, or ‘breaking,’ has broken out of the ghetto and on to prime-time television, ballet stages, even Seattle streets,” the article began. It described breaking as “an athletic dance form that originated a decade ago on the sidewalks of New York. Practiced mainly by Black and Hispanic boys, it has developed as part of an East Coast urban subculture called ‘hip hop’ characterized by its own slang, graffiti, clothing styles and music.” The Times also expanded on the musical context of breaking. “Breakers perform to the sounds coming from a ‘box’—a bulky portable radio and cassette player—blaring ‘rap music,’ characterized by hypnotic, controversial lyrics backed by a rhythmic, usually electronic, beat.” ¹⁵

Later the same year activist, singer, and actor Harry Belafonte and the New York–based Rock Steady Crew arrived to promote their movie Beat Street at the Seattle Film Festival. Belafonte was a show business giant with Emmy, Grammy, and Tony Awards, and Beat Street represented the first time he produced a film in which he did not star. Belafonte explained that many young people attracted to breaking had been relegated to a “life of deprivation; the absence of opportunity, and they’ve become victims of the promises of leaders who represent power and influence and allude to their supposed humanity. This whole idea of this emergence, this force, from this rather oppressed, bleak world is like a phoenix rising from the ashes.” While on tour supporting Beat Street, Belafonte claimed to have witnessed breakers in such cities as Berlin, Copenhagen, Rio de Janeiro, and Tokyo while arguing the positive benefits of the culture. “It crosses social-economic lines, and it’s very much what rock music used to mean. The hip-hop culture is real folk art, like gospel music. It had no place in the mainstream at the beginning, and it set its own standards, its own taste.” ¹⁶

Fans of breaking got another boost on June 30, 1984, when local NBC affiliate KING television aired the pilot for the Michael Holman– produced hip-hop variety show Graffiti Rock. The program featured the New York City Breakers along with the Treacherous Three and Run DMC.¹⁷ Meanwhile local dance continued to expand as the West Side Crew and Seattle Circuit Breakers performed at the Broadway Performance Hall on the campus of Seattle Central Community College as guests of the Ewajo Dance Workshop. The competitive atmosphere around local breaking took on a New York feel as downtown Seattle became a prime area for b-girls and b-boys to meet up and battle. Two primary spots emerged as hubs for local breakers. One was the Seattle Center. Located at the northern end of downtown, the seventy-four-acre campus was dedicated in 1962 as part of the “Century 21” World’s Fair, and included the now iconic Space Needle.¹⁸

The open spaces and festive atmosphere made the Seattle Center a natural environment for spontaneous battles between rival crews. The fact that the Space Needle was a major tourist destination, combined with several large-scale community events every spring and summer at the Seattle Center, meant there were always plenty of people around to watch. The other location was in front of the McDonald’s on the corner Third Avenue and Pine Street. This intersection specifically represented a significant center of activity in an already busy and growing downtown area. Pine Street ran east to west and brought large amounts of traffic directly from Broadway and Capitol Hill to Westlake Center and the heart of downtown. In addition, Third Avenue was one of the few two-way north-south streets in downtown Seattle, which gave the corner a unique, centralized feel.

Local crews and individuals frequently roamed these areas and others in search of a battle. However, the rules of competition were not always rigid. It was not uncommon to have random dancers form a spontaneous crew and battle another just-made-up crew on the spot. This dynamic was similar to a pick-up basketball environment where teams form organically to play against each other. The romanticized version of hip-hop history states that during a time when street gangs were on the rise, breaking came and offered a peaceful, competitive alternative that dramatically reduced gang violence. While this may have been true to a certain extent, trying not only to defeat but publicly humiliate your opponent within a testosterone-laden environment led to a fair amount of animosity and physical confrontation beyond simply dancing.

Soon more organized and formal events began to appear around the area. One example was Summer Break, a 1984 exhibition cosponsored by the Seattle Department of Parks and Recreation and televised by local ABC affiliate KOMO. The event received advance press in the Seattle Times, with preliminary rounds held at the Langston Hughes Performing Arts Institute, followed by fifteen groups and fifteen individuals advancing to compete at the Seattle Center. The broadcast of the competition also featured an accompanying report by the host, veteran local weatherman Steve Poole, as he attempted to simultaneously learn and explain the basics of breaking and hip-hop fashion to the Seattle viewing public.¹⁹

Early local dancers included such individuals as “Seattle’s first break dancer” Jonathan “Junior” Alefaio, Flex, 3D, Special T, Junior Bopper, Leland, Ziggy “Zig Zag” Puaa, Rafael Contreras, Carlos “Sir Slam-A-Lot” Barrientes, Danny Molino, Dave “Pablo D” Narvaez, David Toledo, and Spencer Reed. There were numerous active dance crews, including the Emerald City Breakers, West Side, Seattle Circuit Breakers, DeRoxy Crew, 1st Degree Breakers, Breaking Mechanism, Fresh Force, and Seattle City Breakers. Lateef’s, Stallions, Club Broadway, Spectrum, Buzzy’s, Skoochies, and Club Fremont were all popular clubs for breakers and breaking contests in the area. Community centers, YMCAs, and school assemblies also provided opportunities for breaking exhibitions. Other styles of hip-hop dance in the mid-1980s such as the “Pee-Wee,” based on comedian Pee-wee Herman, enjoyed brief spells of popularity, and the “Prep” even spawned dance-specific crews such as the Ducky Boys and PPIA (Party People In Action).²⁰

As the early local scene developed, it became visibly apparent that graffiti was another aspect of hip hop that was putting down local roots. The 1983 premiere of the landmark documentary film Style Wars, on Seattle’s PBS affiliate KCTS Channel 9, delivered a spectacle of street art to eager young eyes. Style Wars taught the rest of the world a lesson about graffiti that New Yorkers already had learned from TAKI 183—if you “get up” enough in the right places, people will know your name. The film followed several notorious graffiti writers including Min One, Dez, Iz, and Seen as they snuck through New York’s subway tunnels to train yards, avoiding the deadly electric third rails. Armed only with cans of spray paint, they outran transit police to “create mural masterpieces with block letters and cartoon figures, all in the name of fame. Style Wars documents the thrill of seeing their so-called ‘wild style’ graffiti tags on passing subway trains throughout the city.” ²¹

Immediately following the airing of Style Wars, early examples of oversized aerosol art began to appear on various walls around the Central District. The overall size of these initial paintings was relatively small in contrast with the works that took up entire sides of train cars in New York City. This changed in 1984 when a block-long “burner” was painted on the side of Nordstrom’s flagship department store in downtown Seattle by DC3 and Kuo “Mr. Clean” Yang. In New York graffiti artists used the subway as not only a canvas but also a mobile exhibit to show off their work to each other and the general public. Without this option Seattle artists chose walls that were easily visible on the most traveled roads, such as Twenty-third Avenue and Martin Luther King Jr. Way in the Central District, Rainier Avenue, and downtown locations like First Avenue, Pine Street, the old City Light building, and both ends of the Alaskan Way Viaduct. Another way to ensure graffiti would be seen by young people was to target schools, which gave rise to competitive painters trying to go “all-city” by having pieces at every junior high and high school in the city. Meanwhile others, known as “daytime bombers,” chose to paint on several “legal walls” located around town.²²

Without a formal strategy to combat it, Seattle police rarely caught graffiti in-progress. Detectives were sometimes assigned to the most prolific cases, and the city itself would not have a dedicated graffiti clean-up squad until 1994. Throughout the 1980s a growing group of local graffiti artists (including Spraycan, DadOne, Fleeks, Spaide, KeepOne, Skreen, Faze, Sam Sneke, Shylo, Shame, Danny Molino, Bizlove, Michael “Specs Wizard” Hall, Bazerk, and Dorian “Solo Doe” Dinish) were leaving increasingly complex and advanced designs for the public to digest. Two seminal aerosol pieces would be a forty-foot mural along the athletic track at Garfield High School in 1985 by David “Image 8000” Toledo and Bobby “Vision” Charles as well as a piece titled ImageNemo at Gas Works Park by Toledo and Sean “Nemo” Casey completed in 1987.²³

“Nasty” Nes Meets Sir Mix-A-Lot and the Local Rap Scene Grows

As it had in New York, radio played an early and crucial role in building a community around hip hop in Seattle. Without a doubt, the fi st person most responsible for this dynamic locally was “Nasty” Nes Rodriguez, who had arrived in the United States from the Philippines in 1970. Following his graduation from Roosevelt High School in 1979, Rodriguez studied media communications at Bellevue Community College. Rodriguez loved “Rapper’s Delight,” and after visiting his sister in New York City, he requested she start recording local radio shows for him. The cassette tapes that arrived in the mail included pioneers like Jellybean Benitez and The Latin Rascals on WKTU, Frankie Crocker on WBLS, and the first rap radio show, Mr. Magic’s Rap Attack on WHBI.

In the late 1970s, KYAC (1250 AM) was Seattle’s leading radio source for Black music. Rodriguez landed an internship at the station and was charged with answering the request line. When KYAC underwent an ownership change in 1980, it switched its call letters to KKFX, informally known as KFOX. Rodriguez applied for a job at the new station, and program director Steve Mitchell hired him to host a show from 7:00 to 9:00 on Sunday nights called FreshTracks. Initially the format of the show was to spotlight new music, primarily rhythm and blues or rap. However, the number of requests for rap songs dominated all others, and by 1981 FreshTracks became the first rap radio show west of the Mississippi River.

From the beginning, FreshTracks was a game changer. Live mixing and scratching on two turntables was completely new to Seattle radio. This foreign sound of Nasty Nes “in the mix” along with the rapid rise in popularity of hip hop created a diverse cross-section of listeners. Nes introduced his “Mastermix,” a thirty-minute nonstop blend of popular songs. While based primarily in rap, these mastermixes followed in the footsteps of Afrika Bambaataa and pulled music from an eclectic variety of genres and artists, including Kraftwerk, Hall and Oates, and Los Angeles–based Egyptian Lover. After achieving sky-high ratings, FreshTracks was extended to Monday through Friday. This new weeknight program was called Night Beat and ran from 7:00 to midnight. Even though KFOX was an AM music station, Night Beat became one of the highest rated shows in the city, outperforming competitors on the FM side of the dial.

In 1984, Nasty Nes heard about a series of parties being held at the Boys & Girls Club in the Central District and went to investigate. Every weekend, someone who called himself Sir Mix-A-Lot was packing the gym, and for a dollar per person he gave the crowd a complete one-man show. Mix-A-Lot, who could cut, mix, and scratch records as well as rap, commanded the crowd. Thoroughly impressed by what he saw, Nes invited Mix-A-Lot onto KFOX to air his music. Mix’s underground material, which included songs like “7 Rainier,” “Square Dance Rap,” and “Let’s G,” now got wide airplay. Sir Mix-A-Lot became the most popular artist on KFOX, receiving more phone-in requests than even Michael Jackson and Prince. This exercise in musical democracy indicated Seattle pride in a local artist who seemed poised to take the baton from the Emerald Street Boys.²⁴

A Seattle native, Anthony “Sir Mix-A-Lot” Ray, grew up in the Bryant Manor Apartments on East Yesler Way in the Central District. He graduated from Roosevelt High School in 1981 without any formal musical training but had an ear and a passion for music. He also possessed a knack for working with machines and systems. This led Mix-A-Lot to begin experimenting and creating music with machines like the Roland 808 drum machine, Korg and Moog synthesizers, and a Commodore 64 computer. Mix-A-Lot drew inspiration from the Emerald Street Boys, the first hip-hop performers in town to draw extended attention in the local media. He briefly DJd for the group Jam Delight and by 1983 was making songs and DJing on weekends at the Rainier Vista Boys & Girls Club in South Seattle. Mix-A-Lot moved locations and began playing at the Rotary Boys & Girls Club in the Central District. Word-of-mouth spread throughout the CD about these parties, and while Mix-A-Lot was busy setting up his equipment inside the gymnasium, hordes of excited young people gathered for impromptu preshow breaking and rap battles.

From the start, Sir Mix-A-Lot’s material was completely self-composed and arranged. One song attacked people who copied his tapes without permission with new “boom boxes” that had two-cassette tape decks. This technology enabled anyone to copy music and essentially gave rise to a homegrown form of musical bootlegging. “Square Dance Rap,” with its digitized Alvin and the Chipmunks–like vocals, built on the tradition of hip-hop producers sampling from other musical genres. Another song, “Cap Rap,” drew directly from the Black oral folk tradition of delivering humorous and clever insults. By 1985 the attention Mix-A-Lot generated brought bookings at more diverse venues around the city. As his star began to rise, so did his confidence. Although he had performed at Club Broadway, the Seattle Center Exhibition Hall, and the Mountaineers Club, he spent most of his time in his Rainier Beach apartment with a “private arsenal of synthesizers, computers and turntables.”

Quoted in The Rocket in 1985, Mix-A-Lot said, “I come up with stuff as good, from a musician’s standpoint, as anything by [New York producer] Hashim or Dr. Dre, and I do it right here in this room.” However, in the already competitive world of hip hop there were inevitable critics of what local music writer Glen Boyd described as Mix-A-Lot’s “funk technology.” Portland, Oregon artist Chris “Vitamix” Blanchard complained: “The West Coast Sound sucks. There’s no street feel to it anymore, just all these synthesizers. Well anyone can spend $4,000 on synthesizers and be the best DJ in town. But where’s the talent? I’m for rawness, this is supposed to be street music.” ²⁵ Mix-A-Lot’s music, sold initially out of the trunk of his car, soon became available at local record stores like Music Menu. As his popularity grew, Nasty Nes and Mix-A-Lot considered the idea of creating their own record label. Nes and partner Brett Carlson had launched a short-lived label called Cold Rock Records in 1983. Using a combination of Nes and Mix-A-Lot’s names, NastyMix Records was founded in 1985 along with partners Ed Locke and Greg Jones.

As the 1980s progressed, in addition to the growing popularity of Sir Mix-A-Lot, ever increasing numbers of local participants helped deliver new ideas and creative energy to a culture that had massive appetites for both. Early figures like the Silver Chain Gang, West Side Threat, Sounds of Seattle, the Central Crew, the Emerald Street Girls, Deputy Rhyme, Duke and Double Rock, Robert “MC Le Rap” Spikes, Demetrius White, and Bill “Mr. Bill” Pleasant all helped expand the early scene. One of the first Seattle artists to reach markets outside of the Pacific Northwest was Chris “Big Boss” Cross, who, along with Gary Jam, formed the crew Jam Delight. Cross, from West Seattle, was a self-taught musician influenced by techno-funk artists like the Gap Band, Parliament-Funkadelic, and Egyptian Lover. Big Boss’s first release was a mini-cassette single, “Pimpin’ Wit Me,” which sold poorly in stores but created substantial street buzz. Boss said his goal with the song was “to make something so loud and funky, it couldn’t be ignored. You either love ‘Pimpin’ Wit Me’ or hate it. Street people could relate to it.” Boss’s breakout 1986 song “Party Invader” was the result of new technological tools that more hip-hop producers were employing. He used a Korg Poly 800 synthesizer, a Linn Drum Computer, Yamaha Reverb, and Digital Delay, running everything except his vocals through a computer. Picked up for distribution by Los Angeles–based Macola Records, “Party Invader” generated attention in Chicago and New York City.²⁶

Disc jockeys like Roc “Select-A-Roc” Caldwell also increased the depth of the Seattle scene by using available community spaces, such as the basement of the Madrona Presbyterian Church on Thirty-second Avenue in the Central District, to carve out underground hip-hop hotspots. These events would routinely fill the room with young people and loud music on weekend nights in an atmosphere that was relatively inexpensive, safe, and family-friendly. DJs like Brian “JOC (Jammin On Cuts)” Hatfield and John “Frostmaster Chill” Funches Jr. also represented the grassroots scene, which consisted mainly of house parties and battles such as the one Frostmaster Chill recalled from 1984 “at the Recreational Youth Center. They had DJs E.Z. Shock and Capt. Love and MCs Daddy D, Sir Lover, and Master T. I ate them on one mix.” Frostmaster Chill, along with The Freeze MCs, eventually opened for the L.A. Dream Team at Seattle’s Trade Center in 1985.²⁷

While individual artists sought battle victories and new audiences, collectives were becoming a feature within Seattle hip hop. The Freeze MCs—Greg “Colonel G” Steen, David “Daddy D” Blanchard, and Michael “Mellow Mike” Thomas—were one early example. Alliances like Creative Choice and the Cosmic Legion, which included Sir Mix-A-Lot, “Nasty” Nes Rodriguez, Maharaji, Funk Fresh Jazz, Phantom of the Scratch, and female rapper Wicked Angel, were local performers who found strength in numbers. This phenomenon wasn’t unique to Seattle hip hop and could be found in places like New York City with Public Enemy’s 98 Posse and in Los Angeles, where the first album by the group Niggaz Wit Attitude was titled NWA and the Posse.

Another important example of local collaboration was the Emerald Street Girls, formed by cousins Mia “Angel Face” Black and Doretha “Playmate” Johnson. They performed intricate choreographed dance routines with their rhymes during live shows at places like the Black Community Festival and historic Washington Hall. Soon after, Bobbie “Luscious Lynn” Solomon and Jenell “Black Velvet” Cole joined the group as the Emerald Street Girls began to play more gigs, including sharing the bill at the high-profile fifth anniversary party of On the Boards alongside the Emerald Street Boys. Although the group soon disbanded and went their separate ways, the significance of the Emerald Street Girls cannot be overlooked. As much as the Emerald Street Boys helped innovate Seattle hip hop, Angel Face, Playmate, Luscious, and Velvet were also pioneers who ensured that an element of gender diversity was present in the early local scene.

Although there was plenty of overall activity and an artist like Boss Cross had gotten some recognition in a few out-of-town markets, by 1986 local rap music was embroiled in a crisis that seemed to be driven both by politics and identity. The question around Seattle was increasingly two-sided: (1) Who was going to be the first hip-hop artist from Seattle to “make it?”; and (2) Why hadn’t it happened yet? Glen Boyd noted: “There is a myth surrounding hip-hop in the Pacific Northwest that we are one WEAK bunch of lumberjacks, and Seattle in particular has about as dead a rap as those new McDonald’s commercials. Well, yes and no.” Boyd argued the perceived sluggish growth of local hip hop was because “the powers that be in Seattle have not exactly been receptive to the sounds of the street. I’m talking to you, club owners, booking agents, radio programmers, ‘industry types’ in general.” Ed Locke, president of Impact Productions and NastyMix Records, lamented the lack of opportunities for hip hop in Seattle. “The size of the market is small in the first place, and we don’t have a lot of support on the radio, although Nes (Rodriguez) does what he can,” Locke said. “The house DJs at the clubs get full houses on their own, so they don’t want to book local artists. Club Broadway will let a rapper walk on once in a while, for free. This is due to the conservative nature of the market.” ²⁸

Already a writer covering the scene, Boyd soon found another platform to engage hip hop with the arrival of Seattle’s first FM rap radio show. AM options for hip hop had expanded with the founding of the Central District–based “Z Twins,” KRIZ and KZIZ, Washington State’s only African American–owned and –operated radio stations, by Chris H. Bennett, in the early 1980s. Although Nathan Hale High School station KNHC 89.5 FM, aka “C-89,” was known to play some hip hop beginning in the early 1980s, it did so infrequently. In 1987, Boyd’s radio program Shock Frequency premiered on KCMU 90.3 FM. During his debut broadcast, Boyd received a call from a friend who dubbed Boyd the “Shockmaster.” The show was renamed Rap Attack in 1988, when “Nasty” Nes Rodriguez joined to cohost with the Shockmaster.²⁹

Hip Hop and Central District Social Action

Meanwhile, an early instance of hip hop’s connection with local social action began in November 1985, when the vacant Colman School building located at the southern edge of the Central District was occupied by several veteran African American activists. The group, which included Omari Tahir-Garrett, Earl Debman, Michael Greenwood, and Charlie James, was collectively known as the Citizen’s Support Committee for the African American Heritage Museum/ Cultural Center. They demanded that the building be used to house a Black history museum and community center. Although the water and power were soon shut off, the site was used to display books, works of art, and cultural artifacts while also hosting community events. The Seattle School District, which owned the building, notified the group that they were trespassing but took no further action in an effort to avoid a confrontation. The occupation lasted for eight years and has been cited as the longest continuous act of civil disobedience in United States history.³⁰

In 1986 the Citizens’ Support Committee held a benefit show featuring Los Angeles artist Egyptian Lover. He was a hip-hop pioneer, who DJd parties in the early 1980s at large-scale venues such as the LA Sports Arena before as many as ten thousand people. The techno/ electro style of his most popular single, “Egypt, Egypt” (1984), helped define the sound of early West Coast hip hop.³¹ Egyptian Lover played shows on consecutive nights at the Colman School gymnasium in support of the occupation. Roughly two hundred people attended each show, and, while there was no cover charge for either concert, donations were collected in support of the Citizens’ Support Committee.³²

The Teen Dance Ordinance and Seattle’s Youth Music Scene

By the mid-1980s problems associated with local teen nightlife were getting increased attention, and some attributed those problems to the influence of hip-hop music and culture. Gang violence took place outside of nightclubs like Skoochies, located just southeast of the Seattle Center, and Club Broadway, with public perception shaped by the way media covered the issue. The catalyst for what would become known as the Teen Dance Ordinance (TDO) was a club/church called the Monastery located between downtown Seattle and Capitol Hill. Founded in the late 1970s by George Freeman, the Monastery featured disco lights and loud music and attracted a diverse crowd of Black and white, gay and straight, and young adults and teenagers. Soon enough, the Monastery was targeted for closure by various Seattle officials. A story in The Rocket included quotes from teenage supporters, not just street kids, ready to defend the Monastery. Seventeen-year-old Michael Jackson was an African American student who played basketball at Garfield High School, had no arrest record, lived at home, and had a job. “At the Monastery you can be the way you want,” he said. “I’m straight but I have gay friends—it’s like a family and they respect you as a person.” ³³

Other media accounts and numerous police reports portrayed the Monastery as a place of drug dealers, child prostitution, and sexual predators. According to reports, Freeman did not have liquor or business licenses. One police raid resulted in the arrest of all 225 people at the club. Freeman argued that he had written letters to city officials and invited them to check out his club and help solve problems with “drunks, drug dealers, pimps, prostitutes, and queer baiters” that populated parking lots that surrounded the Monastery. Freeman alleged the city responded by saying activity in surrounding parking lots was his problem. Meanwhile, The Rocket reported an instance of what it described as “rednecks” in a pickup truck driving by the Monastery, yelling homophobic slurs, and at one point getting out of the truck to spit repeatedly in the face of a “new wave looking” young woman standing outside.³⁴

As debate over the Monastery continued, a group calling itself Parents In Arms entered the picture. The Rocket described it as “a group of parents who are concerned about runaway teens, and who have spearheaded the move to close the Monastery and restrict other teen clubs.” In response to an interview request by The Rocket, Parents In Arms founder David Crosby, an attorney, refused, saying, “The Rocket is a pro-drug magazine. We’ve gotten good press coverage so far and I don’t think your magazine is going to put the emphasis where I think it should be placed.” King County prosecutor Norm Maleng had already called the Monastery a “public and moral nuisance” when Parents In Arms hired Bill Dwyer, a high-profile attorney who would go on to become a federal judge, to work with the prosecutor’s office against the Monastery. However, after researching the documents city officials used to build their case, The Rocket reported that there was more to the affidavits than details of alleged lurid activities in the Monastery. They also contained descriptions of racial mixing between teen women and men, teens of the same sex hugging and kissing, and claims that “satanic rituals” were also practiced. “None of these acts are illegal, so why are they mentioned?” The article answered this question with another question. “Could it be that the Monastery is under attack, at least partially, because of religious, homosexual and racial bias? Monastery members and members of the gay community say it is.” ³⁵

The Monastery was eventually closed in 1985. Although Freeman maintained that there had never been any shootings or drug overdoses at the Monastery, a judge in a civil trial permanently banned Freeman from owning a nightlife establishment in Seattle.³⁶ That same year, city council president and future Seattle mayor Norm Rice proposed a set of regulations for dance clubs and dances held for profit, serving people under eighteen years old. These included:

·Any club operator holding five or more dances a month would have to be licensed.

·If more than thirty-five teens attend the dance, the club operator must show a plan for traffic control and crowd protection both on the premises and in the area outside the club.

·No one under fourteen would be admitted without a legal guardian.

·No one under eighteen would be admitted or allowed to remain in the club after midnight without a parent or legal guardian.

·Once in the club, a patron could not leave and be readmitted without paying a readmission fee equal to or greater than half of the admission price.

·Anyone convicted of a crime involving moral turpitude, prostitution, lewd conduct, or assault on a juvenile within the past ten years would be denied a license.

·Anyone who has failed codes or licenses or has been convicted of a felony or dependency or delinquency of a minor within five years would be denied a license.

Local civil liberties organizations questioned the law immediately. Kathleen Taylor, director of the Seattle chapter of the American Civil Liberties Union (ACLU), said, “We are looking at a series of problems we have with the (proposed) ordinance. We question whether or not there is adequate reason to severely restrict clubs.” ³⁷

Parents In Arms exercised formidable political power in pushing through the Teen Dance Ordinance, which was passed by the Seattle City Council on July 29, 1985. Subsequent amendments to the new TDO required any club to put up a $1 million deposit for youth music events and have two off-duty Seattle Police Department officers present for security. This established a financial barrier that most local promoters of all-age events could never overcome and effectively put decisions of which functions would be allowed to proceed under control of the Seattle Police Officers Guild, which had veto power over any events its officers might work. Community fears of uneven application existed amid negative attitudes within the Seattle Police Department regarding local venues that featured hip hop and R&B. Some internal police communications, revealed later as part of a lawsuit, included:

“Our main problem with the place is on Friday and Saturday nights when they cater to a primarily rap crowd and stay open until 3 a.m.”

“I am not sure how this problem is going to be resolved short of . . . [changing the] entertainment format, thus changing the clientele that is disruptive.”

“Is the type of music that’s being played attracting the ‘wrong crowd’?” ³⁸

In addition, dances that admitted people under eighteen would have to limit the crowd to fifteen- to twenty-year-olds. Because the ordinance never defined exactly what a “dance” was, the reach of the TDO was broad enough to cripple the youth music scene in Seattle through the 1990s.³⁹ Perhaps an immediate consequence of the TDO was a rise in street crime as a result of young people being left with few social options. A 1986 story in The Rocket by Dennis Eichhorn told of a late night/early morning assault on innocent bystanders on New Year’s Eve outside a venue in downtown Seattle. The aggressors were described as “mostly young men of Asian descent . . . dressed in ‘break-dancing’ clothes, and one carried a beat box in his shoulder.” While making no excuses for the unprovoked violence that took place, the author acknowledged that although every large city has similar problems, Seattle had yet to confront its gang-related troubles head on. Despite public relations efforts, the city had done little to provide outlets for the youth on the street. “The police have adopted a decidedly anti-youth attitude, harassing and closing down teen nightspots with brutal regularity. The lid has been clamped down, but not as tightly as the authorities would like. Incidents like these are a natural result, and the worst is yet to come.” ⁴⁰

In the aftermath of the TDO, some all-age activities were driven underground and others canceled altogether. For the next decade places like community centers and churches were able to work around the ordinance somewhat, with smaller-scale gatherings not officially branded as “dances” on weekends that either ended by midnight or were held during daytime hours. By the mid-to-late 1990s organizations such as the Student Hip-Hop Organization of Washington established at the University of Washington, and events like Sure Shot Sundays hosted by Seattle MC Jonathan “Wordsayer” Moore were exclusively targeting the all-age crowd. Although crippling, artists, activists, and event promoters used such methods to continue to cultivate local hip-hop culture despite the policy restriction.

The first serious challenge to the TDO did not come until 2000. A coalition of promoters, musicians, and community members worked on a bill with City Councilmen Richard Conlin and Nick Licata that would have made it easier to hold dances. Mayor Paul Schell vetoed it, and an attempted override by the city council failed to pass. The presence of high-profile advocates such as former Nirvana bassist Krist Novoselic and the Joint Artists and Music Promotions Political Action Committee (JAMPAC) increased the pressure, and the TDO was finally repealed in August 2002 when the council voted 6-2 to approve the All Ages Dance Ordinance (AADO). The AADO required that all venues meet city building and fire safety codes, that promoters to undergo criminal background checks, and that venues have trained security personnel on hand for any all-ages event.⁴¹

Gangs, Drugs, and Hip-Hop Communities

Two key linked factors that influenced the environment around Seattle hip hop were the crack cocaine epidemic and the resulting spread of street gangs. President Ronald Reagan declared a national War on Drugs in 1982 that opened the door to numerous antidrug actions, which adversely effected many urban communities over an extended period. By the mid-1980s, Seattle, like much of the country, was just beginning to come to grips with crack’s destructive force as it swept through urban communities. The drug was first mentioned in the Seattle Times on May 28, 1986, under the headline “Crack—Cheap Form of Cocaine Spreading across Nation, into Seattle Area.” The story noted: “The worst aspect of the new kind of cocaine is that it is considered exceptionally habit-forming. ‘One pipe and you won’t stop until your bank account is empty,’ says a Seattle chemist familiar with the drug and its effects.” ⁴²

The article outlined some of the dynamics that accompanied this new drug. One main factor was cost to the consumer: crack was generally sold in portions weighing less than a gram for between $10 and $50, while a full gram of powder cocaine cost $100 or more. “Along with a new product and a lower price, dealers have also developed a new marketing strategy: distributing small amounts of the drug over a large sales network, thus reducing arrest risks and maximizing market penetration, say police.” Authorities reported instances of some residential neighborhoods that suffered traffic jams from cars lined up in front of drug sellers’ houses. “It’s kind of like the fastfood franchise of the drug business,” said Seattle Police Department narcotics unit commander Captain Jim Deschane. A pricing structure of $25 to $40 meant a return of as much as $250 to $400 for each gram rather than the previous $100. At times those arrested for selling crack did not know the name of the supplier. Cases emerged of entire immigrant families anonymously hired to pass the drugs through the front-door mail slot of the “rock house” or “crack house” for which the dealer paid the rent.⁴³

Between 1986 and 1987 the King County prosecuting attorney’s office saw the number of felony drug cases related to crack explode from three hundred to three thousand, a 900 percent increase.⁴⁴ In the state of Washington, possession of 40 grams or less of marijuana was considered a misdemeanor. However, possession of any amount of cocaine was classified as a felony and fell under the Violation of the Uniform Controlled Substances Act (VUCSA). Because the penalties for “intent to deliver or sell drugs” were far greater than simple “possession of drugs,” prosecutors would frequently charge defendants who possessed drugs intended to deliver or sell them regardless if the suspect was a dealer or a user. In addition, the Anti-Drug Abuse Act of 1986 established mandatory minimums for federal drug offenses, instituting the 100-to-1 crack versus powder cocaine sentencing ratio.⁴⁵ In the state of Washington, possession of crack cocaine with intent to distribute carried a mandatory minimum of five years in jail.⁴⁶

Crack became a key part of an era of policing and sentencing, which disproportionately impacted African Americans. For example, by 2007 data indicated that 82 percent of people convicted of crack possession were Black, and 9 percent were white, despite the fact that African Americans made up only about 25 percent of total crack users.⁴⁷ Crack was the single biggest factor that accelerated the rise of street gangs across the United States in the 1980s. As Black Panther chapters across the country faded in the late 1960s and early 1970s, new groups of leaders started to assert themselves. In Los Angeles the Community Revolutionary Inter-Party Service (Crips), started by Stanley “Tookie” Williams, Jamel Barnes, and Raymond Washington, originally sought official recognition from the city as a community organization, complete with a constitution. The color blue became a signature of Crips culture. The Crips grew in membership but some, such as Eugene “Taboo” Battle in LA’s Athens Park neighborhood, refused to be recruited and banded together as Bloods, adopting red as their color of choice.

By the time Crips and Bloods made their way north in the mid-1980s, street gangs already active in the Seattle area included the Triads and Yakuza, Florencia 13 and 18th Street, and the Outlaw Bikers and Aryan Brotherhood.⁴⁸ The Seattle Times ran a story about the growth of Crips and Bloods in the area on June 28, 1987. Under the headline “Gangs Increasing in Seattle—L.A. Toughs Leave Slums for New Turf,” the article announced: “Members of Los Angeles’ Crips and Bloods gangs, steeped from childhood in drug-dealing and street warfare, are moving in on Seattle. About 50 full-fledged members of California’s two major Black street gangs already are here. Hangers-on and wanna-bes (youngsters who wanna-be just like them and are willing to run their errands) are being recruited.” The Crips, who wore trademark blue clothing items, were reported to have staked out the Central District as their turf. The Bloods, who defied their arch rivals by wearing red, had claimed the South End, around Rainier Beach.⁴⁹

During the 1970s and early 1980s some neighborhood tension had developed between the South End and the Central District. This rivalry sometimes manifested itself in physical confrontations but was mostly limited to things like little league sports or other competitive community events. However, the spread of various out-of-town gang affiliations in the area exaggerated these dynamics and resulted in violence, including a number of homicides allegedly connected to CD–South End “beef.” A third group, the Black Gangster Disciples, represented an “alternative” to the Crips and Bloods, arriving by way of Chicago. Examples of other local groups that developed as the gang landscape evolved in the Seattle area during the late 1980s were Deuce Eight, Valley Hood Piru, East Union Street Hustlers, Genesee Blocc Crips, Yesler Terrace Bloods, South Horton, Deuce Jive Hillside, and 74 Hoover Criminals.⁵⁰ Uzis, AK-47s, and “drive-by shootings” became topics of mainstream discussion as gangs and crack swept across the country. Beginning in the mid-1980s crime, and specifically homicide rates, in Seattle reflected some of the violence associated with the crack economy.⁵¹

As in other cities, the grim realities of crack were absorbed and reflected in local hip hop. Musically, contributions such as “Crack Get Back” (1987) by the DI-RA Boys took a socially conscious approach to fighting the epidemic. Sir Mix-A-Lot’s “Posse on Broadway” (1987) lamented “The Rockman Blues,” or the bleak life of a dealer, and effects of the drug on women’s bodies. Meanwhile, Ice Cold Mode’s “Union St. Hustlers” (1989) specifically discussed the spread of gangs, drive-bys, and shootouts in the city associated with the crack trade. These and other examples represented Seattle hip-hop artists engaging with the contemporary issues their communities were struggling with by providing realistic grassroots perspectives for all to see and hear. Indeed, the conclusion of “Union St. Hustlers” reminded listeners the song was not a glorification of gang violence but simply the truth.

The aftermath of this period ultimately helped cast a long cultural shadow over the Central District in a demographic sense while further informing the evolution of Seattle hip hop. The economic recession that hit the United States in the early 1990s was not as severe in the Seattle area, thanks in part to the explosive growth of companies like Microsoft, Starbucks, and later, Amazon. Relatively low property values suddenly made the Central District one of the hottest real estate markets in the city, as transplants moving to town for work were attracted by the neighborhood’s location. This dynamic helped accelerate the already-in-progress gentrification of Seattle’s first Black neighborhood and would become a topic of discussion within local hip hop.

Early Tacoma Hip Hop

Seattle was not the only place in the Pacific Northwest where hip hop put down roots. Tacoma, thirty miles south of Seattle, also played an important role in the growth and development of local hip hop. In 1980, Glen Boyd worked at the iconic Tacoma record store Penny Lane Records. A music enthusiast, Boyd noticed almost immediately the numbers of African American military members who would come in and ask about artists he had never heard of. Boyd took note of these inquiries and requested them from New York record distributors.⁵² In a piece for The Rocket, he wrote that although Tacoma’s Black music scene had experienced numerous changes over the years, it had always maintained a close connection to the street music of the East Coast. This was due primarily to the transplanted eastern populations of the military bases in South Tacoma—McChord Air Force Base and Fort Lewis Army Base. “Tacoma’s rapping, scratching and mixing DJs continue to be the center of this scene,” wrote Boyd, “coming to the area from hotbeds like New York City and Washington, D.C. The action still largely revolves around the military clubs, but has recently branched out to include civilian clubs like South Tacoma’s Mr. Lucky.” ⁵³

Tacoma DJ Bobby “Galaxy” Lewis added: “The Tacoma scene keeps up to date with the East. We can get independent 12-inch records here that we can’t get in Seattle.” Galaxy’s partner, Phillip “G-Man” Gonzales, agreed. “South Tacoma is where it’s at,” Gonzales said. “It mixes the East Coast hip-hop sound with the South Coast funk of groups like the Gap Band. We have the Seattle jocks coming down here to check us out, because they need to be educated.” Early Tacoma club DJs like Maurice “Roots I” Holloway and Anthony “Roots II” Grant began developing their style in the mid-1970s. Roots II explained: “A good club DJ in this state must have good rapport with the crowd. It has to be continuous. Rapping and scratching are important, but by itself, that defeats your purpose.” An active and diverse hip-hop scene was alive in Tacoma, evidenced by events such as the DJ battle held at the NCO Club at Fort Lewis in September 1983. The battle featured the “Galaxy Forces,” Galaxy, G-Man, and Harold “Whiz Kid” McGuire against the Roots.⁵⁴

Tacoma’s hip-hop scene expanded on multiple levels. Established military venues like the NCO club and the Tray Club at Fort Lewis as well as the Madigan Annex and the Officer’s Club at McChord routinely drew several hundred people on Friday and Saturday nights. Off-base locations such as Mr. Lucky, the Rheinlander Tavern, Dynasties West, Mr. Stubbs on Broadway, and Champion Disco provided civilian alternatives to the military spots. A growing cohort of Tacoma performers—The Server, Poncho, TV Lee and Candy Rock, Jammin Green, Uncle Jam, Ron “Outlaw” Barker, J.T. Sugar Bear, Kooly Hy, DJ Hollywood, Byron Johnson, Lady K, DJ Fantasy, and DJ Julio—kept things rocking for the twenty-one and over crowd. Though not as great in number, the existence of underage venues was also important to the growth of Tacoma hip hop. Located in Federal Way, a city situated roughly between Seattle and Tacoma, Spectrum was widely regarded as one of the top underage clubs in the area. Skate King in Tacoma held special nights dedicated to popping and breaking contests, and DJs Galaxy and Roots also combined forces to open an underage nightclub. As had traditionally been the case elsewhere, radio played a key role in spreading hip hop around the south Puget Sound area. KTOY (91.7 FM) featured an urban contemporary format on weekends, while KPMA (1400 AM) broadcast the nightly show Soul of the Sound, which was known to turn DJs loose for scratching and mixing “marathons” that could last three hours.⁵⁵

There was a Tacoma-based artist who made a significant national impact, although historically he has not been acknowledged. “To many of Seattle’s old school DJs and MCs,” Glen Boyd pointed out, “[Tacoma DJ] Whiz Kid (Harold McGuire) will always be the Godfather of North-west hip-hop.” McGuire, a native New Yorker, moved to the area for roughly eighteen months in 1983 and 1984 when his military-employed wife received orders for Tacoma. At the time Whiz’s “Play That Beat Mr. DJ,” released on then struggling Tommy Boy Records, was climbing up the dance charts and doing unheard-of business. “Play That Beat” became an early hip-hop classic and wound up selling 250,000 copies. “Whiz became a local celebrity,” Boyd wrote, “and Tacoma briefly became the undisputed capitol of Northwest hip-hop.” ⁵⁶

The trend of Tacoma as a hub for hip hop in the Pacific Northwest continued into the mid-1980s. In 1985 a show at the twenty-thousand-seat Tacoma Dome featured local artist Miztah Zelle alongside New York MCs such as T-La Rock, whose single “It’s Yours” was the first song ever released on legendary hip-hop label Def Jam Records; Greg Nice, who would eventually become half of the duo Nice and Smooth; and pioneering female MC Sparky D.⁵⁷

As part of the show, Tacoma-based High Performance Breakers battled the New York City Breakers, an all-star breaking crew assembled by New York promoter Michael Holman. In addition to touring around the country, they had appeared on television shows like Soul Train and The Merv Griffin Show. In front of a packed house, High Performance defeated the NYC Breakers. The repercussions of this victory were twofold. First, it sent the message that fresh break-dancing styles and techniques were developing outside of New York City. Second, even for those who were not at the Tacoma Dome and heard about the battle secondhand, the High Performance victory gave a healthy boost to the self-esteem of local hip hop. For the Pacific Northwest, like almost every other region of the country, New York City was still what nearly all local hip hop was measured by. Although High Performance’s vanquishing of the NYC Breakers was largely symbolic, it validated the idea that the hip hop happening in places like Tacoma could in fact be just as good as, if not better than, that coming out of New York.⁵⁸

Tacoma continued to shine as Run DMC, the self-proclaimed “Kings of Rock” and the biggest rap group in the world, became the first rappers to headline a stadium-sized show in the Pacific Northwest. Their 1986 album Raising Hell was the first rap record to sell a million copies. Run DMC’s collaboration with Aerosmith on the song “Walk This Way” had become a smash hit on MTV at a time when precious few Black artists were in video rotation. The New Year’s Eve 1986 bill at the Tacoma Dome also featured rhythm and blues crooner El DeBarge and former New Edition member Bobby Brown.⁵⁹

Hip-Hop Grassroots Expansion

Farther down the West Coast came an example of collaboration between cities. Originally from San Francisco, Chris “Vitamix” Blanchard made a name for himself but struggled for credibility as one of the few white MCs and DJs in Portland, Oregon. Beginning in the early 1980s, Vitamix developed an eclectic reputation by mixing records such as Grandmaster Flash & the Furious Five’s “The Message” and “Frog Sounds in North America” together on Portland radio station KBOO. In 1983 he connected with “Nasty” Nes Rodriguez, who began playing Vitamix’s music on KFOX in Seattle. Soon Vitamix was spinning as a guest DJ on the radio program FreshTracks, and Rodriguez released Vitamix’s song “That’s the Way Girls Are” on his label Cold Rock Records. Eventually a deal was struck in 1987 to re-release the single on Profile Records. As the home of Run DMC at their peak, there were few names bigger in the rap music industry than Profile. Although the song sold a respectable number of copies, the simple fact that Profile Records had signed a Northwest artist was a major event.⁶⁰

Despite what some perceived as a dynamic of arrested development in the mid-1980s, the cultural movement that was Seattle hip hop continued to inspire young people in different ways. These included a breaker turned DJ turned record label head, the first hip-hop performers at the venerable Folklife Festival, a mobile DJ/party unit in the Teen Dance Ordinance era, a world-class break-dancer, and a heavy dose of social consciousness. As a musical youth, Danny “Supreme” Clavesilla was drawn to hip-hop culture after going on vacation to New York City with a friend in 1983. During this visit, Supreme experienced early authentic hip hop firsthand. The next year he formed the Seattle Circuit Breakers, who were invited to participate in the televised break-dance special Summer Break. Eventually, he was drawn to DJing, formed a group named Incredi-Crew, and released a single in 1987 called “High Powered Hip-Hop” on his own label, Gemini Records.

Intent on getting his material out there, Supreme traveled to New York City to distribute the song at the New Music Seminar. Started in 1980, the New Music Seminar was an annual event during which artists, industry players, and record companies gathered to do business, a place where up-and-coming hip-hop artists from around the country networked and got exposure. Soon after that, Southern California– based Enigma Records approached Supreme to produce several local artists including Chenelle “Chelly Chell” Marshall. After considerable time spent producing and recording material, such as Chelly Chell’s 1987 single “He’s Incredible,” Enigma cited various delays and deadlines in its decision not to release any of the music.⁶¹

Community centers, parks, and schools provided platforms for young people who had hip hop–based performance aspirations while also functioning as social gathering points. One instance was the All-City Talent Show held at Franklin High School. In 1987, DURACELL (Def Undisputed Rhymes Are Cuts Especially Long Lasting) Crew— made up of Derrick “Silver Shadow D” Seals, Clifton “Chilly C/ SOZ” Seals, Bruce “Incredible B/Horton B” Griffith, Lawayne “Crazy Waves” Rainwater, and Jason “JG” Gavin—won the first All-City Talent Show. That same year DURACELL was invited to be the first hip-hop performers in the fifteen-year history of the annual Folklife Festival held at the Seattle Center, over Memorial Day weekend.⁶² The festival had become a hub for diversity among numerous traditional and ethnic communities and performances, and Folklife’s embrace was a clear indicator of local hip hop’s growing popularity.

Another example was RICO-1, established by Reggie Brown and Robert Lomax in 1987, a mobile DJ unit that organized and played parties at various local venues. The importance of RICO-1 and other party creators and promoters like it cannot be overstated in the environment of an all-ages social vacuum created by the Teen Dance Ordinance. A fertile breaking landscape for early b-girls and b-boys in the greater Seattle area eventually produced world-class talent that rose to the top of the craft. Beginning in the early 1980s, Carter “B-Boy Fever One” McGlasson was drawn to examples of break dancing on television shows and in such films as Style Wars, Wild Style, Flashdance, and Beat Street. By his freshman year at Ingraham High School in 1984, Fever was a member of his first crew, the Grand Master Breakers. A year later, Fever’s growing reputation led him to join Seattle Circuit Breakers. After high school graduation, Fever moved to New York City and impressed enough people to earn an invitation to join the hip-hop musical Jam on the Groove, an off-Broadway show. Created in 1995 by members of the Rock Steady Crew, the production featured a DJ, music, intricately choreographed breaking moves, and commentary about hip-hop culture by the dancers themselves.⁶³

If the Rock Steady Crew represents the hip-hop equivalent of the Joffrey Ballet or the Alvin Ailey Dance Company, then Richard “Crazy Legs” Colon was its principal and director. In the 1970s, Crazy Legs was an early member of the Rock Steady Crew in the Bronx, functioning as the group’s leader and helping orchestrate international tours for RSC in the early 1980s. Crazy Legs’s respect for Fever grew, and after a 1998 battle that also served as an “interview,” Fever One became the first Seattle native invited to join the vaunted Rock Steady Crew. Fever’s reputation continued to grow as he developed his signature “gunz blazin” style. “Gunz blazin” not only became a Fever alias but was eventually incorporated into his routine as he would pull out imaginary weapons to “slay” his opponents.⁶⁴

Youthful energy and social consciousness combined to inform other emergent artists in Seattle. Jamal “Jace” Farr started off as a South End b-boy who practiced on cardboard at the Brighton Elementary School playground and then ventured out to the ultimate breaking testing grounds of the Seattle Center. As rap music became more popular, Jace noticed groups like the School Boyz, DURACELL, LSR, and True Believers from West Seattle, forming and making music he liked. Taking the name Mic Master J, fifteen-year-old Jace joined forces with his brother Nigel “Demo Demone” Farr, Sean “DJ Acsean” Washington (aka DJ SeanMalik), and DJ DD to form the DI-RA Boys in 1985. DI-RA stood for Devastating Interesting Rap Alliance.

The DI-RA Boys were unique in part because of the levels of social awareness they displayed in their music. Their 1987 single “The Times” discussed President Ronald Reagan’s role in the Iran–Contra scandal, a tangled affair that included allegations of an arms-for-hostage deal with Iran, illegal CIA operations in Nicaragua, and the seemingly endless supply of cocaine to US urban centers. “The Times” also tackled the proliferation of nuclear weapons. Quoted in The Rocket, Demo Demone said: “It’s just about letting people know what’s going on. How Reagan takes things like nuclear war into his hands and doesn’t take it seriously. Like he’s just acting out a part.” Another DI-RA song, “Crack Get Back,” dealt with drug abuse, addiction, and proliferation, particularly as it related to the spread of crack. Demone argued: “Whenever drugs come up in your face, you don’t want it. The only time drugs understands that is when you get forceful with him.” The eldest of the three at seventeen years old, Demone represented DI-RA’s impressive levels of social maturity and self-awareness. In 1987 the DI-RA Boys attracted enough attention to be the only rap group included on a compilation album for the National Black United Front (NBUF), a project organized by longtime African American Seattle civil servant Charles Rolland, and performed at the Black Community Festival and Festival Sundiata at the Seattle Center. In an era of hip hop where “hardcore” music could be defined by subject matter as much as profanity, DJ Acesean remarked: “Seattle hip-hop is too soft right now. We’d like to take it into something more hardcore.” ⁶⁵ The DI-RA Boys’ drive toward success came to a tragic end in 1989 when DJ DD was shot and killed. In the aftermath the remaining members disbanded the group and went their separate ways musically.⁶⁶

Sir Mix-A-Lot Breaks Out

Within a year of its release, Sir Mix-A-Lot’s 1985 independent EP Square Dance Rap had sold more than forty-five thousand copies. His follow-up EP, I’m A Trip (1986), was released on the newly formed NastyMix record label. Mix-A-Lot’s style, described by Glen Boyd as “supertechno rap/funk,” came from an impressive collection of equipment. “In contrast to the minimal stage gear of many hip-hop acts,” Boyd wrote, “Sir Mix-A-Lot travels with an arsenal of electronic equipment that is truly impressive, hence his boast of being Seattle’s ‘computerized DJ.’” ⁶⁷ In addition to standard turntables and mixers, Mix-A-Lot’s setup included the following: three synthesizers (an Akai AX-60, a Roland Juno 2, and a Sequential Split 8); two samplers for sampling various sound effects (an Akai Sampler and Disk Drive as well as a Prophet 2000); three drum machines (a DMX, an 808, and Drumtraks); a digital reverb for “heavy drums”; an MSQ 700 Sequencer; a Harmonizer for voice modulation such as on the song “Square Dance Rap”; and an Apple II computer.

Mix-A-Lot’s ability to produce material was matched by his willingness to pay dues. From the beginning, he had relentlessly sold tapes from the trunk of his car until record stores like Music Menu heard the street buzz and began carrying his music. In addition, he went on the road, doing shows in unglamorous places throughout the Deep South of the United States, opening for such artists as Cherelle, Cashflow, Jermaine Stewart, Atlantic Starr, and Too $hort. Mix-A-Lot even opened for Los Angeles–based Egyptian Lover, an artist with whom he had built competitive friction. Because both artists were from the West Coast and known for their computerized sounds, they were often compared to each other. That did not sit well with Mix-A-Lot, but it also led him to a realization. “I was doing what I’m doing before I ever heard the Egyptian Lover, so when I first started out I was obsessed with defeating him,” he said. “But all that was doing was holding me under sea level. Playing with Egypt was weird at first, because we hated each other, but now we’re pretty cool.”

Tension between Mix-A-Lot and other Seattle rap artists had become apparent. The title of Mix-A-Lot’s second EP, I’m A Trip, was a reference to his feeling that he was being misjudged locally. “It’s all a big lie. People say ‘you got a big Cadillac, you’re trippin. You think you’re this, you’re trippin.’ So I just tripped through a whole song bragging on everything I have, which ain’t much. I gave the people what they always wanted.” Responding to a comment in Billboard magazine, which sarcastically referred to his hometown as “that hip-hop hotbed Seattle,” Mix-A-Lot said: “There is so much talent in Seattle. Frostmaster Chill is talented, but he needs story lines like L.L. Cool J has. That’s what we were waiting for from him. We didn’t work with him, because he didn’t give us that and now he thinks we’re trying to hold him down.” In Mix-A-Lot’s opinion the problem was that few people from Seattle believed in Seattle, and he cited local rappers who got onstage and claimed to be from the Bronx. “That attitude has to stop. NastyMix is ready to work with other artists. But no one’s gonna make it talking about old Mix-A-Lot. They gotta get out and make it for themselves. Hell, I still got a long way to go.” ⁶⁸

The popularity of the single “Square Dance Rap” helped raise Mix-A-Lot’s profile outside Seattle. For five weeks it was the number one most requested song on Los Angeles radio station KDAY. Another key development occurred when a copy of the song “found its way to the United Kingdom and began getting radio play in Britain. ‘Square Dance Rap’ . . . became extremely popular in the United Kingdom and was released as a single by the label Streetwave.” This led to an invitation to perform at England’s first hip-hop festival, Fresh Fest UK in 1986. Mix-A-Lot played two sold-out shows in London’s fifteen-thousand-seat Wembley Arena along with other artists on the bill—Grandmaster Flash & the Furious Five, Afrika Bambaataa, Mantronix, Lovebug Starski, The Real Roxanne and Howie Tee, Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde, and the World Class Wreckin’ Cru, the first Los Angeles–based rap group to release an album on a major label (CBS/Epic), who counted a young Dr. Dre among its members.⁶⁹

Sir Mix-A-Lot’s steady buildup had him well positioned for a breakout hit. Originally released in 1987, “Posse on Broadway,” with vocals partly inspired by the song “Paul Revere” by the Beastie Boys, stood out in several ways. One was by name-checking specific streets and landmarks such as Rainier Avenue, the intersection of Twenty-third Avenue and Union Street, Seattle Central Community College, and Dick’s Drive-In. In the same way that KRS-One of the legendary New York group Boogie Down Productions described his home in the 1986 song “South Bronx,” “Posse on Broadway” sent messages about Seattle culture to the rest of the world in a way that had never been done before.

In “Posse on Broadway,” Mix-A-Lot acknowledged the diversity of his crew by mentioning his white real estate investor friend Larry, he spoke out against disrespect of women, and he described using mace on a man who was about to physically assault his girlfriend. This approach was in stark contrast to the likes of Niggaz Wit Attitude (NWA), who represented the swiftly emerging strain of hip hop known as “gangsta” rap. The only white people referenced in NWA’s music were the Los Angeles Police Department officers they hated. Conflicts in an NWA song always ended with a shotgun or an AK-47, and women were referred to as “bitches” or “hos” more than anything else.

The video for “Posse on Broadway,” featuring Mix-A-Lot riding around in a black Mercedes Benz limousine, showcased various parts of Seattle’s South End, Central District, and Capitol Hill neighborhoods. Mix-A-Lot’s mention of Dick’s Drive-In, a Seattle fast food institution since 1954, created massive free publicity for the local burger chain wherever the song traveled. However, the owners refused to let NastyMix Records shoot any portion of the “Posse on Broadway” video at the Dick’s Broadway location. Instead, the scenes were shot at Stan’s, another drive-in burger restaurant located a few miles south of Dick’s at the intersection of Rainier Avenue and Dearborn Street. Twenty years later, Mix-A-Lot returned to Dick’s in an orange Lamborghini while making a cameo appearance in Jake One’s “Home” video, Macklemore shot the video for his song “White Walls” standing on the roof of the building, and the owner personally apologized to Mix-A-Lot for the original snub.⁷⁰

“Posse on Broadway” experienced wide success as the single entered the national charts and the video appeared on MTV. This set the stage for the release of Sir Mix-A-Lot’s debut LP Swass in 1988. The tone of the album radiated a unique vibe, as Mickey Hess noted in his book Hip-Hop in America: A Regional Guide. “Swass was extremely innovative and set Mix-A-Lot apart from many of his peers in rap music at the time,” Hess wrote. “His rap in this album focused more on middle-class issues, using humor as an outlet, rather than depending on rage at a system or descriptions of life in the projects.” Although Seattle certainly had its fair share of issues between law enforcement and the African American community, which Mix-A-Lot addressed in the song “Hip-Hop Soldier,” for the most part Swass was about “having the most money and gold, getting the best women, and being the best rapper in the game.” In a nod to the numerous rock/rap collaborations taking place, most notably Run DMC and Aerosmith’s 1986 smash hit “Walk This Way,” Swass also included a remake of the 1970 Black Sabbath song “Iron Man,” featuring Seattle band Metal Church. “Bremelo” was a region-specific song about women from the city of Bremerton, across Puget Sound from Seattle.⁷¹ Within a year of its release, Swass had entered both Billboard’s Black and Pop LP charts and sold more than five hundred thousand copies, making it the biggest-selling record released by an independent Seattle-based label in years. Despite this, The Rocket noted in January 1989, “Sir Mix-A-Lot would have a tough time finding a gig here [in Seattle]. Yet in cities like Miami, Houston, Phoenix, and Detroit, Mix has soldout crowds wanting to know more about the ‘Seattle hip-hop sound.’ ” Swass’s buildup was slow and steady—it took more than a year for the record to go platinum.⁷²

Hardcore Rap, Race, and Seattle Youth

As hip hop grew in popularity, instances of violence at and around live shows led to questions about whether rap music was the cause. These questions were generally associated with “hardcore” acts like Public Enemy or Run DMC, who was sued by a man that was stabbed and robbed at a concert in New Jersey. However, “hardcore” was not something that Philadelphia duo Jeff “DJ Jazzy Jeff” Townes and Will “The Fresh Prince” Smith were known for; in fact, they were described as “the Cosby family of rap.” By 1990, Smith was starring in the NBC network sitcom The Fresh Prince of Bel-Air and would go on to become one of the world’s biggest movie stars. But in 1988, following a concert at Seattle’s Paramount Theatre, four people were wounded in a drive-by shooting at the hotel the duo was staying in near Seattle-Tacoma International Airport.

The next day a headline in the Seattle Times read “Clues Hazy in Drive-by Shootings—Was Rap Music a Factor?” The story noted previous concerns over violence at rap concerts that included moving a 1987 Run DMC and Beastie Boys show from the Seattle Center to the Paramount. Although police acknowledged potential racial overtones due to the fact that each of the victims was Black and witnesses described the shooters as white, the New Jersey attorney that sued Run DMC argued: “There has been a repetitive history of violence at rap concerts. The music tends to incite violence. They should soup up security. . . . The music creates this environment where people go crazy.” ⁷³

The rise in popularity of this thoroughly controversial new music and culture began to show up in different contexts. While Seattle hip hop continued to evolve and capture attention outside the city, the influence of national artists, some considered hardcore, was leaving its mark on local youth. One example of this was the 1988 Ingraham High School Ram football team. Ingraham, a predominantly white public school located at the northern edge of Seattle, featured several top African American players that lived in South Seattle but were bused nearly fifteen miles each way, per school district policy. Three senior players from the Rainier Valley, in particular, played crucial roles on the team: linebacker Wayne Burton, wide receiver/defensive back Jason Gavin, and tailback/defensive back Simon Robinson, an all-Metro League selection as a junior.

Coming into the season, Ingraham was considered the favorite in a weak Metro League, and after finishing the regular season with one loss, the Rams caught a break in their first playoff game trailing Juanita High School 14-7 late in the fourth quarter. Juanita was a perennial football power and two-time state champion in Kirkland, an eastside suburb across Lake Washington from Seattle. With Ingraham out of timeouts and unable to stop the clock, the Rebels had the ball on the Rams’ twenty-yard line with less than a minute to play in the game. Then a mishandled exchange between the Juanita quarterback and running back resulted in a fumble, which Ingraham recovered and returned for the tying touchdown to send the game into overtime. Robinson rushed for 111 yards on twenty-four carries, and the Rams won the game 17-14, advancing to the state quarterfinals. A story in the Seattle Times stated that in the “loud and raucous” Ingraham locker room, chants of “Don’t believe the hype! Don’t believe the hype! Don’t believe the hype!” could be heard after the game.⁷⁴

In 1988 the phrase “Don’t believe the hype” meant one thing: Public Enemy. Widely regarded with apprehension and mistrust by many Americans in the late 1980s, Public Enemy represented a number of things that made the mainstream uncomfortable. Musically, their hectic, scattered, screeching production styles perfectly complemented the equally hectic subject matters they tackled: crack cocaine, institutional racism, government corruption, media bias, and the prison industrial complex. In the process Public Enemy had run afoul of conservative commentators who labeled them “thugs” and Jewish groups that called them anti-Semitic. Public Enemy’s second album, It Takes a Nation of Millions to Hold Us Back (1988), became the soundtrack of rebellion for diverse groups of young people as they developed a socially conscious identity. Glen Boyd called it “a political time bomb.” Lyrically the album maintained a tradition of Black pride in the face of adversity, demonstrated earlier by Grandmaster Flash & the Furious Five’s 1983 song “The Message,” and even earlier than that by Marvin Gaye’s “What’s Goin On” and Gil Scott Heron’s “The Revolution Will Not Be Televised.” “Musically,” Boyd continued, “It Takes a Nation covers more territory than any rap album to date. It also signals to the world that this music is not going away, and that the time has come to take rap seriously as an art form.” ⁷⁵

The Public Enemy song “Don’t Believe the Hype” from It Takes a Nation of Millions to Hold Us Back became the theme for the Ingraham Rams. Author M. K. Asante noted its message was “essentially about being a critical independent thinker and forming your own opinions. Hype is temporary, fleeting and can change course on a dime. That’s why it’s important to understand that hype and talent are not synonymous.” ⁷⁶ When Ingraham defeated Ferris High School of Spokane 14–6 in the state semifinals, the headline in the Seattle Times blared “Don’t Believe the Hype—Ingraham in Kingbowl—Lightly Regarded Rams Top Ferris in Semifinals.” The Kingbowl, Washington State’s high school football championship game, was played annually in the iconic Kingdome, located in southern downtown Seattle (SODO). Even Ingraham head coach Ron Sidenquist was on board. “All year we’ve read in the papers that the Metro League should be knocked out in the first round, that they’re a bye for whoever has to play them,” Sidenquist said. “These kids haven’t believed that—that’s been our rallying cry: Don’t believe the hype.” Ram fullback John Brown added: “They [Ferris] gave us no respect. Their coach said that they were going to win the Kingbowl and they were going to run straight over us. Coach told us coming in—Don’t believe the hype. And there you go.” ⁷⁷

Intent on driving home the message, several Ingraham players had small towels custom made at Sports In Action, a sports apparel boutique in South Seattle. The towels, with “Don’t Believe the Hype” emblazoned across the surface, were tucked into the players’ waistline for all to see. Two days before Kingbowl XII, Ingraham’s opponent, Kentwood, from the Seattle suburb of Kent, dismissed several key players, including the starting quarterback and running back for violating team rules. The Rams defeated Kentwood 21–0 on December 3, 1988, becoming the first Metro League team and first public high school from Seattle to win a state championship in football. After the game the Seattle Times noted: “As they were awarded the Class AAA state-championship trophy, Coach Ron Sidenquist, his players, and Ingraham’s fans chanted, ‘Don’t believe the hype, don’t believe the hype.’” ⁷⁸

Artists like Public Enemy exercised national influence and caused the mainstream considerable discomfort, but circumstances in the community were reflected in local examples of hardcore rap music. Toward the end of the 1980s, Seattle (especially the Central District) felt the brunt of the crack cocaine epidemic and all that came with it. While Sir Mix-A-Lot offered a humorous, less intense narrative than the traditions of early West Coast gangsta rap, there was also more serious street-oriented local music. One example was the 1989 single “Union St. Hustlers” by the group Ice Cold Mode (Kenyatta “Ice Cold” Thomas and DJ Ronnu McThomas). Seattle Times writer Andrew Matson called it “a slice of pre-gentrification Central District life on the corner of 23rd and Union.” ⁷⁹ The song chronicled drive-by shootings but also gave a shout-out to Ezell’s, Seattle’s most famous and Oprah Winfrey–endorsed fried chicken.⁸⁰ This corner was notably mentioned two years before by Sir Mix-A-Lot in “Posse on Broadway,” who “rolled up to the same intersection, saw drugs and general hard times, and made a left to Capitol Hill for burgers at Dick’s.” ⁸¹ Ice Cold Mode released a four-song tape that was carried in local record stores, selling nearly a thousand copies. Nonetheless, Ice Cold lamented: “It’s hard to find gigs in Seattle, and sometimes I feel like I put hell into this . . . this is about raising black consciousness.”

The local scene expanded with Chilly Uptown’s album I Got Rules on Ever Rap Records and groups like Ready N Willin, Brothers of the Same Mind, and The Fury out of the rural Port Orchard, Washington. As DJ Kool Kat observed, “The majority of rappers don’t know what it’s like in a small town.” PD2, DJ Robert “3D” Stills, and MCs Donnell “2 Smooth” Jackson and Dwayne “Mellow D” Banks produced the 1989 hit “You Ain’t Got No Bass.” But as popular as the song was locally, few in Seattle got the opportunity to hear it in concert. When it came to performing live, PD2 would have to “leave or starve.” Questions about the lack of live hip-hop shows featuring local talent had been present for some time. Music writer Glen Boyd asked, “When was the last time you saw a [non-NastyMix] Seattle-based rap act perform in a local venue?” He continued: “Rap music is everywhere. Everywhere, that is, except in the form of live music. Despite its arrival as a legitimate mass appeal musical genre, a variety of factors continue to keep it all but locked out of the clubs.” These factors ranged from perpetual ignorance within the local industry of rap’s impact, to an evolving but still present “sense of snobbery” from music elitists toward rap. After outlining contributing dynamics, Boyd made clear what was really at the heart of the matter. “The single greatest factor keeping rap out of these clubs is fear,” he wrote. “Fear of gangs. Fear of violence. For all we know, fear of a black planet (as Public Enemy’s Chuck D would say).”⁸²

Social Consciousness in the Local Scene

Sir Mix-A-Lot’s second album, Seminar, was ready for release in October 1989 on NastyMix Records. The ten-song effort was reviewed in The Rocket by Roberta Penn, who wrote that if Mix-A-Lot’s new album were used as current events curriculum in high school, “the dropout rate would plummet.” Penn said that Seminar was a combination of pop psychology, street sociology, and politics on top of danceable basslines. “Mix uses his own attitudes for instructional materials and examines the things that nearly every urban youth—regardless of race or economic status—must confront,” she argued. “There’s a tune about the teenage mom who has turned to sexual dancing for money, a chilling number about patriotism, disillusionment and national symbols and several funny take-offs on chic fads and heavy posing.”

Two singles and videos simultaneously helped push sales while reinforcing Mix-A-Lot’s image as an alternative to the gangsta rap that was gradually shifting the balance of power in hip hop from New York to the West Coast. One was “Beepers,” which celebrated the era’s emergent wireless communication technology. With its guitar sample from Prince’s song “Batdance,” “Beepers” was very accessible for the mainstream. The other song was “My Hooptie,” a humorous story of Mix-A-Lot driving a beat-up car while his Mercedes Benz was in the shop for repairs. Seminar displayed a conscious side, criticizing American foreign and domestic policy on “National Anthem” and discussing reasons some young women enter the sex trade, sexual abuse in the home, and teen pregnancy, in “The (Peek-a-Boo) Game.” Like Swass, Seminar sold more than a million copies, giving Nasty-Mix Records two platinum albums in its catalogue.⁸³

Sir Mix-A-Lot’s national profile had become substantial enough to merit a visit from Yo! MTV Raps, which premiered in the summer of 1988 and was hosted by Fab 5 Freddy, the New York graffiti artist who starred in the film Wild Style. Right away, Yo! MTV Raps was among the network’s highest rated and most influential programs. In its second year the show traveled around the country, highlighting artists in their hometowns. The program arrived in Seattle and received a guided tour, courtesy of Mix-A-Lot and the NastyMix crew. In early 1990, Black Entertainment Television’s (BET) show Rap City also came to Seattle to profile Mix-A-Lot. After shooting at places like the Space Needle and the downtown club Hollywood Underground, the city’s first African American mayor, Norm Rice, joined Mix-A-Lot and the show’s crew to tape a segment that would air as part of Rap City’s Black History Month celebration. Rice contended that rap music was important “because it makes you think—it’s educational even though it has some controversy with it.” Mix-A-Lot, reacting to criticism of his song “National Anthem,” argued, “I love my car like I love my nation, but every now and then it needs a tune-up, and so does this country.” Rice ended the segment by making a toast: “To our future and the future of African American youth throughout the world.” ⁸⁴

In the midst of Mix-A-Lot’s success, NastyMix Records added to its artist roster. Steven “Kid Sensation” Spence, a protégé of Sir Mix-A-Lot, grew up in South Seattle and graduated from West Seattle High School. Kid Sensation released his single “Back 2 Boom” on NastyMix in 1989, which sold more than one hundred thousand copies and reached the top-ten on the rap singles chart. His 1990 debut album, Rollin’ with #1, made the Billboard chart during its first week of release. His first video, “Seatown Ballers,” was set in Seattle’s newly completed downtown Metro bus tunnel and carried a message of positivity and legal “ballin.” At the end of the video a written statement read: “Our society cannot allow small interest groups to decide for the rest of us what is an ‘acceptable’ artistic expression, or to define what is to be considered suitable adult entertainment.” Although this stance made sense in an era when groups like the Parent Music Resource Center (PMRC) seemed determined to censor certain elements of hip hop, MTV refused to play the video unless Kid Sensation allowed the network to remove the statement, which he eventually agreed to.⁸⁵

In 1990 NastyMix Records seemed poised to be the next big thing. While celebrating its fifth birthday, the Northwest Area Music Association (NAMA) presented CEO Ed Locke and NastyMix their Outstanding Achievement Award and annual awards for Best Company of the Year and Independent Record Label of the Year.⁸⁶ In addition, the label was attempting to diversify its stable of artists by signing acts like the “self-proclaimed Kings of Splatter Rock,” The Accused, “an alternative dance-music duo in the manner of Wham!” called Blue Max, and Adrienne, “a stylish R&B vocalist in the Whitney Houston vein.” ⁸⁷

Despite this variety of genres, NastyMix remained true to its local hip-hop roots by signing Criminal Nation and High Performance, both from Tacoma. Composed of MC Deff, D-Rob, Pook Love, and Soundcheck, Criminal Nation released their album Release the Pressure in 1990. Criminal Nation’s music was heavily influenced by the devastation of the crack epidemic and resulting gang activity. The Rocket’s Grant Alden called Release the Pressure “a musical document of life in Tacoma’s much-storied Hilltop. It ain’t Harlem, it ain’t Compton, it damn sure ain’t New Jack City . . . But it is home.” Criminal Nation’s songs dealt with racism (“Black Power Nation”), boredom and futility (“Release the Pressure”), and violence (“Definitely Down for Trouble”). On the question of making radio-friendly material, D-Rob said, “Fuck the top-10 hit, man.” MC Deff added: “I didn’t make no record to play radio. Radio play only makes a person weak, or something like that. Now, if I make a song they like and it gets radio play, then . . .” The group reflected a familiar frustration that local artists felt toward “Black” radio. D-Rob: “Black radio, man, it’s a bunch of bullshit.” Pook Love added: “The head of it is somebody white, and they sayin no to this. There’s a lot of stuff I didn’t know about the radio business, the PR men, the promotions, how they lie in your face. It’s a dirty business.” ⁸⁸

Some artists changed their focus over time. High Performance— MC Duce, MC Microphone Ace, DJ Mad Dog, and MC Action—first gained local and regional prominence as dancers by defeating the New York City Breakers at the Tacoma Dome in 1985. By the end of 1990, they made the successful transition to signed recording artists, releasing their debut album, All Things Considered. In The Rocket writer Greg Barbrick described the record as “a piece of knowledge dropping a little different from the usual angry tone.” High Performance’s intent was to send a positive message, starting with the name of the album. MC Duce said, “We want people to consider all the possible consequences of their actions, to put themselves in different situations.” The group made two videos—“Do You Really Want to Party” and “All Things Considered,” which was shot in Washington, DC, and featured footage of Reverend Jesse Jackson speaking against social injustices.⁸⁹

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With the arrival of “Rapper’s Delight,” the first generation of hip hop in Seattle began a journey for which there was no roadmap. While some early participants went after quick credibility with claims of New York ties, most embraced a more local mind-set. The best example of this was the Emerald Street Boys, who incorporated the city’s nickname into the group’s name. Their combination of electrifying performances, media coverage, and recording Seattle’s first rap record made them the popular face of early local hip hop. Breaking and graffiti in Seattle were given boosts in the early 1980s by the release of such seminal films as the independent movie Wild Style, the documentary film Style Wars, broadcast on PBS, and the Harry Belafonte–produced Beat Street. Media like this helped give visual cues about hip-hop style and attitude to young people who couldn’t get enough. Soon spaces downtown and at the Seattle Center became gathering points for local breakers, and instances of oversized aerosol art began to appear in strategically visible locations around the city.

Local radio history was made in 1981 when DJ “Nasty” Nes Rodriguez began hosting FreshTracks on KFOX, the first rap radio show west of the Mississippi River. His presence on KFOX led to a fateful meeting with Sir Mix-A-Lot one night at the Rotary Boys & Girls Club, and the path of local music was changed forever. With KFOX as a platform to showcase his music, Mix-A-Lot’s already rising star built more momentum. An early example of hip hop intersecting with local activism came with the occupation of the abandoned Colman School building by the Citizen’s Support Committee for the African American Heritage Museum/Cultural Center. In 1986, Los Angeles hip-hop pioneer Egyptian Lover came to play two benefit shows in support of the occupiers and their cause. However, while groups like the Citizen’s Support Committee were fighting for the community, local hip hop and youth culture were hit hard by a series of socio-political events in the mid-1980s. One was the Teen Dance Ordinance, first introduced in 1985, which crippled the local youth music scene for nearly two decades, with rap music saddled by perceptions that it caused violence. The spread of crack cocaine and the corresponding arrival of street gangs from Southern California also impacted local hip hop. The explosion in the number of drug users fueled massive amounts of revenue, which brought about competition and gang activity. Before long, the resulting increase in arrests, addiction, and gun violence began to be reflected in local hip hop. Meanwhile, to the south, Tacoma was experiencing growth within its own hip-hop community. The military bases fueled population from other parts of the country, which combined with the local community to support clubs and DJs in a way that allowed Tacoma to hold its own as a hip-hop scene through much of the 1980s.

By the end of the decade, Sir Mix-A-Lot and NastyMix Records had succeeded in placing Seattle firmly in the national hip-hop consciousness. Mix-A-Lot’s 1988 debut album Swass had gone platinum, the video for “Posse on Broadway” was being played on Yo! MTV Raps and BET’s Rap City, and both programs came to Seattle to interview him. In 1989 he released his second album, Seminar, which sold more than one million copies. The seismic nature of an independent, Seattle-based record label releasing back-to-back platinum-selling rap albums by a Seattle-based artist in 1988 and 1989 cannot be overstated. While the rest of hip hop was being seduced by the oncoming rise of West Coast gangsta rap, Mix-A-Lot had answered the question of who would be the first from Seattle to make it by going the opposite way.

The overall depth of activity and growth during the 1980s set the foundations for Seattle hip hop to enter the world stage in the 1990s. This entrance, signaled by Sir Mix-A-Lot’s Grammy for his song “Baby Got Back,” would soon be overshadowed by the musical tidal wave of grunge rock. As incredibly popular groups like Nirvana and Pearl Jam cast the brightest of lights on the local alternative rock scene, Seattle hip hop worked to further distinguish itself. One way this happened was related to what was sometimes referred to the “fifth” element of hip-hop culture: fashion. Two Seattleites, Tony Shellman and Lando Felix, collaborated to create not one but two iconic hip hop–inspired clothing lines. Another path to growth was increased opportunities in print journalism, radio, community access television, and the rise of the Internet, which created space for Seattle hip hop to define itself in new and different ways.