Now lemme take you to a place
where the rays of the
sun/Blocked
by the gray lofty rain often come…
—OneBeLo, “Gray”
Pontiac, Michigan, is a chiefly African-American, working-class
Detroit satellite whose main export for decades was courtesy of the
General Motors plants that produced the city’s namesake vehicle. It’s a
long way from the affluent, predominately Caucasian hills of Seattle,
but Nahshid Sulaiman—the dynamic MC formerly known as One Man
Army of the cult favorite indie-hop crew Binary Star, today
known as the solo artist OneBeLo—is a familiar face to
hiphop fans in the 206. Perhaps it’s the cities’ similarities in
weather: For some reason, OBL’s music has resonated with Seattle
audiences for the better part of a decade.
“Seattle really is like a second home,” says the man known as
Lo. “Cats out here were just hitting me up about shows back in the day,
and I was skeptical at first. But dudes just showed me a lot of love
from the start.” It was the members of the SHOW—the Student
Hiphop Organization of Washington—UW students, promoters, and
local scene fixtures like Jason “J-Promo” Norcross, (former
Stranger columnist) Samuel Chesneau, and Marc “Sense”
Matsui who reached out, bringing Binary, and later just Lo, to the
city to rock shows whenever possible and establishing a business and
personal rapport that stands today.
The Seattle connection only deepened when Lo was christened an
official member of Seattle’s world-champion b-boy crew Massive
Monkees. “I hosted the Brainstorm battle and they were rocking,
doing one of their routines,” Lo says. “The music was playing, but cats
were just quiet. I remember thinking I should go say something
on the mic, but I didn’t know cats like that; I didn’t want to
disrespect them. Later I kinda just mentioned it to a couple of the
dudes, joking, like, ‘Yo, son, lemme in the crew!’ I ain’t from
Seattle, man; I don’t dance—and they was like, yeah, we want
you! I was like, me? Why me?” he laughs.
His connection to Massive Monkees makes real sense in the big view,
both entities being dues-paying torchbearers of venerated South Bronx
tradition, yet having the technical skill to push the craft ever
forward. “They on that fundamental shit,” he says. “Just like me.” A
hidden last track on his banging new album, The R.E.B.I.R.T.H.,
has Lo riffing raw over a BeanOne-laced breakbeat with all the
Technics 1200 trimmings. Gleefully pumping up his adopted crew, it’s a
rare glimpse of an MC at his level paying homage to the purest pillar
of the culture.
His previous records were chiefly dated material, but The
R.E.B.I.R.T.H. captures the OneBeLo of 2007 in full fighting form,
and features production from the 206 trinity of Vitamin D,
Jake One, and BeanOne, as well as upstart boardsman
Eric G. After parting ways with Fat Beats Records (who released
his first official solo album, S.O.N.O.G.R.A.M.), Lo is feeling
and sounding better than ever, bringing a wide palette of tones,
juicing insight from warm reminiscences as well as true Midwest grit,
relevant to today but brimming with the same old-soul authority that
made him such a standout from jump.
“It’s like—damn, I got four producers from Seattle,” Lo says.
“The photographer snappin’ pics is from Seattle; Seattle is all over my
shit! I just got shown so much love. Man, it really is like a second
home. And I didn’t do that on purpose; I embraced that ’cause it’s
natural. I wasn’t like, ‘Yo, I gotta get Jake One, gotta get Vitamin,
get down with Massive Monkees.’ Man, I couldn’t have planned that shit
if I wanted to.”
“Some people say, ‘You’re going in a different direction,'” he
continues. “I’m not headed in a different direction; I’m trying to get
to the top! I wasn’t trying to go to the East, to the West. I’m trying
to elevate.”
Goooing up! 