White Van Sound System

The “white van speakers” scam is a time-honored hustle, perpetrated
by smooth operators in cheaply leased delivery vans, wherein suckers
believing themselves to be acquiring high-end audio equipment at
cut-rate prices end up paying for subpar gear (or even empty boxes).
But on his new compilation, White Van Music, out on indie-hop
powerhouse Rhymesayers Entertainment, Seattle superproducer Jake One
(born Jake Dutton) uses this iconic vehicle for the greater good;
instead of unloading crap, he gives the starved-for-content hiphop
consumers more than they bargained for. In a year dominated by
major-label turds polished to a blinding studio sheen, Jake One has
packed premium product into the unassuming, sturdy facade of classic
underground boom-bap. Jake is a humble, down-to-earth dude—but
he’s also a venerated local institution and a nationally respected
producer. He’s made gutsy classics for local artists, hard underground
joints for the underground’s elite, and Michael Bay–big backdrops
for 50 Cent and his G-Unit crew. And Jake One’s unique situation as
supplier to these disparate worlds has allowed him to produce one of
the very best hiphop albums to drop in 2008—period.

That ultimate truth of this project is best exemplified by its lead
single, appropriately called “The Truth,” which features the hardcore
flow of gold-selling Roc-A-Fella soldier Freeway. The track itself is
gorgeous—the sort of solemn, soulful scorcher Free is well known
to devour—but it takes on a whole new dimension when Jake
artfully adds a verse from Rhymesayers firebrand Brother Ali. See, the
real genius of WVM is its unprecedented mingling of rappers from
the mainstream, MTV-beloved rap world (Busta Rhymes, Young Buck,
Prodigy of Mobb Deep, Freeway) with MCs from the road-running,
word-of-mouth-fed independent hiphop scene (MF Doom, Brother Ali, Slug
of Atmosphere). “I haven’t seen anybody do it to this degree,” Jake
says of the LP’s ambitious mix of talent. “I can’t even say it was all
deliberate—really it all just came together naturally. I figured
that if I was really going to do a record, I couldn’t just do
underground records or just do commercial records.” No small
feat—while indie-hop maintains a running commentary on the
foibles of the mainstream, most diamond-draped rap luminaries are
hardly aware of the hard-touring hiphop stars creating outside of the
major labels.

“My manager [G-Unit’s former behind-the-scenes mastermind Sha Money
XL] wasn’t hip to what [Rhymesayers] were doing, and he hit me the
other day like, ‘Who’s that other guy rapping with Freeway? I think I
like him, he’s dope.’ Now, will 50 hear it and sign Brother Ali?” Jake
laughs. “Probably not, but who knows? It’s always good to expose people
to new stuff.”

With all the marquee national talent (over- and underground alike)
on White Van Music, it’s easy—even for Jake
himself—to downplay the album’s significance to the local hiphop
scene. “I can’t really call it a Seattle album,” he says, “even though,
obviously, I’m on everything.” Yet the album’s versatility, its vision,
its all-roads-end-here, jack-of-all-styles vibe is pure Seatown.

Of course it’s a Seattle album—the cover shows Jake
jumping out of the album’s namesake vehicle in front of no less a local
landmark than Dick’s (you know, where the cool hang out), and
among the album’s very best moments are those featuring Seattle MCs.
The atmospheric anthem “Big Homie Style,” sports hungry young-gun
verses from J.Pinder and GMK, and Sportn’ Life Records’ own Spaceman
murders the track, gangland style. The Life’s co-owner D.Black
demonstrates his considerable breadth on “God Like,” dropping heady
theological bars sure to surprise those local ears who’d pigeonholed
him as a gangsta rapper. “Those guys are like my little brothers, and
they’re excited about this record,” Jake says. “People get to hear them
that had no idea about them. And they held their own, too—they
had to; I wasn’t going put them on otherwise.”

But it’s album closer “Home”—featuring OGs Vitamin D, C Note
(of Narkotik), Maine, and Ish (of Grammy-winning Digable
Planets/Cherrywine fame)—that feels as familiar as a late-night
Swisher run to the Cherry Street “Am-Pam.” “That’s basically my tribute
to ’90s Seattle hiphop,” Jake says. The homage is unmistakable; the
track’s warm, twinkling vibe bears the signature of Vitamin D’s classic
style. “Vita’s definitely a big part of this record,” says Jake.
Indeed, Seattle’s most prolific producer/MC/DJ provided all the
scratches and cuts on White Van Music—not to mention a
decade-plus of inspiration.

Jake’s album is not only the most important hiphop record to come
out of the Northwest this year, it’s the definitive statement of his
considerable career, during which time he’s seen the landscape of this
town change, from its skyline to its appreciation for the art form to
which he’s dedicated his life. Back when he started making music in the
mid-’90s, he says, “nobody was caring about this shit—it’s just
the truth. It was E-40 time.” Seattle hiphoppers affected styles born
in New York or Oakland, dealing with the same crises of identity and
self-esteem that plague this city on every level. But after a
generation of digesting influences, the town is beginning to recognize
and love itself, and Seattle’s hiphop today is at its best. “I think
it’s the biggest it’s ever been. People come out to shows; there’s a
general level of interest that wasn’t there before. Just seems like
there’s pride in the city.” With the release of White Van Music,
expect that pride to hit an all-time high in hiphop’s last American
frontier. Throw in a reunified vision of beats, rhymes, and life in
general? Sounds like a hell of a deal to me.