As one of Tacoma’s true hip-hop pioneers, General Wojack remembers when gangster rap was created by real thugs — when violence, the struggle to survive, and the anger of young hip-hop artists were more than a pop culture fantasy used to sell records.

Wojack also remembers a time before hip-hop and gangs were synonymous in the minds of the local public. When he helped spark the Tacoma scene, Wojack was a DJ, hip-hop had just gotten off the ground, and Tacoma was a breeding ground for young artists who helped throw regular block parties, battles and the occasional cipher. Back then — during the beginning of the Reagan era — there were no gangs in Tacoma. Hip-hop was just hip-hop, and it was a positive force.

“There were no fighting, no gangs, and no drugs,” he says. “It was pure energy, and it was pure hip-hop. The gangs came about 1985 but didn’t take hold until ’86 or ’87. From then on, it was about the gang thing.”

Over time, he says, hip-hop was warped by the influence and prevalence of gangs, which insinuated themselves into Tacoma’s hip-hop culture.

“We watched Tacoma lose all the block parties, and we lost them because of gang violence,” says Wojack. “We couldn’t go to parties and clubs because the gangs were always there, and there was always fighting or shooting going on. Hip-hop got phased out of Tacoma because of the gangs.”

Two decades later, amidst growing wealth, prosperity and community evolution, hip-hop is straining to make a comeback. A recent, post-Dead-Prez riot in Olympia and a cancelled E-40 concert at the Pantages Theater have pushed Tacoma’s on-again, off-again hip-hop scene into the spotlight.

It’s ironic, says one local observer, that no one takes notice of hip-hop until it lives up to everyone’s prejudices.

And while some are concerned that recent violence and scrutiny have set the hip-hop community back — perhaps even killed the scene — members of the local hip-hop community have come out swinging. Local hip-hop cliques are crossing boundaries, talking about what to do with what some claim to be a withering scene, and finding solidarity in the face of increasing criticism and public concern.

That’s what hip-hop does best — it stands together, and it stands against the odds.
Players such as spoken-word artist Josh Rizeberg contend that local hip-hop artists are just now beginning to reach a sort of cultural critical mass and that local hip-hop cliques need to set aside their claimed territory and share the spotlight if hip-hop is going to survive. Rizeberg was around to watch Tacoma’s scene grow up, and he says it’s just now reaching a point where it has a chance to come alive.

“I would say that, on a small scale, people are still working out the kinks,” says Rizeberg. Engaging the community and delivering hip-hop’s many messages are often difficult, says Rizeberg, because hip-hop comes in many flavors — especially in Tacoma. Local college kids like so-called conscious hip-hop because they can identify with its marginally academic subject matter. Heads from Hilltop and the East Side like so-called gangsta rap — emulated by cliques such as Cash Money and members of Rottweiler Records — because they say it reflects life on the streets. Local spoken-word artists such as Rizeberg and members of Tacoma’s 2012 crew often fall somewhere in between.

Of course, none of those generalizations stand up to scrutiny. That’s half the problem, say many local artists: Hip-hop is judged as an undifferentiated whole, rather than each crew, artist and promoter being judged on individual merits. And this lends truth to claims that hip-hop is the victim of prejudice.

“A lot of people have been targeted because a few people have made the public think that all hip-hop means violence,” says hip-hop fan and 253HipHop.com founder Michael Pierce.

Each of Tacoma’s rap cliques, meanwhile, has created its own scene to one degree or another. Few of those scenes have withstood the test of time, and even fewer are still involved in promoting live events. Hip-hop weeklies come and go. Venues dedicated to hip-hop open and then quickly close. Existing venues that give hip-hop a chance rarely stick with it for very long. Too often, members of the local hip-hop community shut themselves down by being stupid. Local officials, police and venue owners don’t help, says Rizeberg, when they associate the whole of hip-hop with potential for violence. Local crews don’t help when they huddle up, clutching their little piece of Tacoma’s lukewarm hip-hop pie.

DJ Reign of Tacoma’s Fab 5 crew says working with other artists can be hard. There are divisions within hip-hop, and they’re often hard to set aside.

“We had to build a scene for ourselves, and we can’t just work with everybody,” says Reign. “I’m down to do stuff with other artists, but I’m not down to work with everybody and their mom.”

Often, ego games amongst artists get in the way of collaboration, say many observers, including Reign, who says he and Fab 5 have worked hard to create a thriving underground scene. If artists are tight, though, the door is open for collaboration.

Fab 5’s success is worth noting. The crew plays it straight and has shown what a lot of cliques in Tacoma haven’t — the ability to be organized, the desire to grind, and the willingness to come back again and again when first attempts fail. And they keep it positive, throwing well-attended events with consistent talent. Those are among the reasons Fab 5, with the help of local hustler EvergreenOne, has managed to talk promoter Flash of Hell’s Kitchen into holding a new hip-hop weekly on Wednesdays, beginning April 30.

They go forward knowing that many hard-working crews have been exactly where they are now — looking forward to a new opportunity, with fingers crossed, in a city where hip-hop weeklies have the average life span of a gnat.

Rizeberg contends that members of the hip-hop community will have a better chance of surviving if people from various cliques can work together. 

“There can’t be a division,” he says. “The city isn’t big enough to have a divided scene. If you see someone who has done their work and are good at their craft — but it’s not your style — people have to make room. Different acts have to work together; otherwise it will go on for a while, and it will die. There’s plenty of room to shine, but we’re going to have to shine together.”

Elsewhere in the equation, venue owners and promoters wonder which hip-hop artists they can take a chance on.

Local promoter Melissa Wheatley has dropped out of the hip-hop game — at least in Tacoma — until some parts of the scene can get their act together. The shows Wheatley promoted under her company name, Footwork Media, tended to have a bit of a gangsta lean. Her events at venues such as Ms. Mai’s went well for a while with local talent drawing healthy crowds. But a recent resurgence of violence at shows has encouraged Wheatley to stop throwing them in Tacoma.

“The music is here, and the talent is here, but with the ways things are going, with the violence and people acting stupid, it won’t happen,” she says. “It scares all the venue owners away.”

For those venue owners who choose to take a chance on hip-hop, Jazzbones supergirl Jennifer Johnson — who has worked as an artist representative and a booking agent for years — suggests that it can be done right. Nearly everyone interviewed for this story concurs that venue owners bear a great deal of responsibility for keeping shows safe. Johnson and others contend that a venue that invests in proper security, does a little homework, and prepares properly should be able to pull it off. 

“If you want to have a chance, get booked at a club that has enough security and won’t over serve everybody,” says Johnson. “That just turns everything into a disaster. And club owners need to do their homework about who they are booking.”

Sounds like the beginnings of a solution to wholesale rejection, right?

Club owners’ needs, meanwhile, are simple and should be on the minds of every promoter and artist who wants to throw a show.

“The number one thing is that we need a lot of people to show up, and you want them to spend a bunch of money, and you don’t want them to fight, or tear the neighborhood apart, or the club,” Johnson says.

New-in-town promoter Treasure G, owner of Seattle-based Verbal Warning Entertainment, agrees that venue owners need to be held accountable and says promoters, patrons and artists should bear an equal amount of responsibility. Treasure and her crew, several of whom have recently moved to the Tacoma area, are preparing to host major events at the Cedarwood Dome — formerly Club Atlantis — in Milton. Treasure hopes to find a place in the local scene by using her connections to bring national hip-hop, R&B and soul acts to perform in the area. Verbal Warning will set it off June 28 with Montel Jordan. She plans to bring years of knowledge and do a whole lot of work to make sure her shows go off right.

“I think it’s kind of uniform that behavior plays a part in where we are able to host,” she says. “We have to be responsible with how we promote and market our concerts, and we need to step up in holding our friends, family and patrons responsible. We have to start thinking differently. We have to treat our small events like big events, and we need to take care of ourselves. If we do that, the community will take care of us. I promise you.”
General Wojack, meanwhile, has begun writing his story for publication and continues to produce music. These days, when he spits a verse — and damn can that man rap — his voice carries the weight and power of a man who has survived hell and learned a thousand lessons along the way.

Wojack’s crew, Criminal Nation, was among only a few hip-hop artists in Tacoma to receive national attention and distribution thanks to help from Puget Sound DJ legend Nasty-nes, who helped build much of the Northwest hip-hop scene from scratch. Wojack has a perspective of Tacoma hip-hop that few others share. He was here when the gangs came. He watched as they transformed, and later eliminated, the Tacoma hip-hop scene. He survived the late ’80s in Tacoma and was given the title General for leading his guys safely through the gang wars on Hilltop. Wojack concedes that embracing the thug lifestyle opened doors for him and his crew in the music business, but it closed others — doors he wished he hadn’t helped close.

“I don’t think it left a good impression,” he says. “It was a very difficult time.”
Wojack’s prescription for Tacoma hip-hop seems very simple — do right, work together, and remember, to quote Dead Prez, that it’s bigger than hip-hop.

“To this day, those of us that grew up in the hip-hop era aren’t feeling that gangster rap,” says Wojack, “and all the bling and materialism and ‘I’ve got more money than you.’ The way I see it now, hip-hop is a form of education. So many of these guys don’t have a clue. These rappers aren’t educating themselves in any other fields. They’re not reading about history and politics and the struggle. It’s about guns and drugs and bitches and hos, and the music industry has exploited it. It’s been hard to watch hip-hop change here. I want to go somewhere where people will understand and respect what we’ve been through. It’s hard, though, because now there’s a rapper on every corner. Nobody wants to hear this story because it’s real. I think that if we all work together we all can make history and change the face of Tacoma. I’m here because there’s a change that needs to be made. We need to start showing more love and unity. I am hip-hop. I love it, and I believe in it.”

Author’s note: There are dozens of people who are part of this story but were not interviewed or mentioned. The people in this article represent a sliver of the local hip-hop community, and I’ve only scratched the surface of this issue. Send information about upcoming shows to calendar@weeklyvolcano.com.

Hip-hop horray

Friday, April 25: Can-U, Cancer Rising, Grynch and John Crown, door at 6 p.m., all ages, $7, Hell’s Kitchen, 3829 Sixth Ave., Tacoma, 253. 759.6003

Sunday, April 27: Broadway Center for the Performing Arts will host a community dialogue concerning Tacoma hip-hop, 3 p.m., free, Theater on the Square, 915 Broadway, Tacoma, 253.591. 5894

Wednesday, April 30: EvergreenOne, 10th and Commerce, DJ Reign, Hell’s Kitchen

Wednesday, May 7: One.Be.Lo, Macklemore, Can-U, 10th & Commerce, 8:30 p.m., $5, no cover for PLU students,  Pacific Lutheran University

Saturday, June 28: Montel Jordan, DJ B-Mello and Vinnie the Pooh, $30, $50 VIP, $20 after party only, tickets at www.brownpapertickets.com, Cedarwood Dome, Milton, 253.922.5727