Arts & Culture

Obl Reed Is Holding It Down for the North End

We're interrupting your regularly scheduled South End programming and hopping on the 99 all the way to Linden Avenue, in the North End. Those are the stomping grounds of rapper-on-the-rise Obl Reed, who is making big waves in Seattle and beyond with his debut album LINDENAVE!. With a flow reminiscent of J. Cole and a swagger not unlike fellow PNWer Amin, Reed's music expertly dives into his upbringing as a mixed kid in the North End, what it means to make it as a rapper in the city, and how to care for oneself in this sick, twisted world.

Editor

The 22-year-old rapper's critically acclaimed debut LINDENAVE! is just the beginning.

by Jas Keimig

We're interrupting your regularly scheduled South End programming and hopping on the 99 all the way to Linden Avenue, in the North End. Those are the stomping grounds of rapper-on-the-rise Obl Reed, who is making big waves in Seattle and beyond with his debut album LINDENAVE!. With a flow reminiscent of J. Cole and a swagger not unlike fellow PNWer Amin, Reed's music expertly dives into his upbringing as a mixed kid in the North End, what it means to make it as a rapper in the city, and how to care for oneself in this sick, twisted world.

Though the 22-year-old has been rapping for most of his life, things started to really kick off in 2021, when Pharrell's i am OTHER collective included Reed's "LOOSE CHANGE" on the second volume of its mixtape series. After dropping his first moniker, Moondrop, for his current one (Obl is his middle name, and Reed is his first) in 2022, Reed took off like a shot last year. He debuted LINDENAVE! and its visual album, went on tour as an opener for Sol, and snagged the top spot on The Seattle Times' journalists and critics' poll for best release of 2023. (Full disclosure: I voted for Reed in that poll.) I recently hit up the North End rapper, and we chatted about his musical influences, how LINDENAVE! came together, and what his skincare routine entails.

This conversation has been edited and condensed for clarity.

In other interviews, you've talked about how you grew up listening to a lot of Christian rap. How did that particular genre influence the way you approach your music now?

I don't listen to that music as much now, but I still see the intentionality of the topics in the way that I go about writing. Growing up on Christian music, it's not mainstream, right? Those are people writing about their own experiences and being authentically them, no matter whether it's going to sell the most records or hit the charts. I learned that that approach makes people connect so much more with the music and also feels so much more authentic to me. I don't curse in any of my music, because growing up, none of my influences or idols did, and I grew up in a religious household. So that wasn't naturally what I was doing. Even though now, I don't necessarily not cuss, but when I make music, my natural instinct kicks in. I feel like [not cussing] makes my music so much more accessible.

You also describe what you do as alternative hip-hop. What does that label mean to you?

When I say alternative hip-hop, people are always like, oh, so you got, like, heavy guitars and it's like rock music? I'm like, nah, I just feel that it's not necessarily conforming to the formula of mainstream rap. I think operating in that genre allows me more freedom of expression and freedom of experimentation. I mean, you can listen to LINDENAVE! and every track feels like me, but not every track sounds the same. Not every track would do well on, you know, the radio, and every track isn't made for the masses. That's what that label means to me. I think it's less of a specific sound and more of an approach to the creation of the music.

I think a lot of people associate the Seattle hip-hop scene with the Central District and South Seattle. So I'm curious, what's it like repping the North End? What do you think the people at large need to know about Linden Avenue and growing up on the north side of the city?

I completely agree. The emphasis of Seattle hip-hop has been on the CD, the South End, and more like trap music. It was hard trying to break in from the North End because [my music] wasn't necessarily the hip-hop that people wanted to hear. The North End has so much talent but there hasn't been that ability to bridge the gap.

Coming from Linden Avenue and the north side, I think I had to prove myself a little bit more. That's why I wanted to name my project after the street that I grew up on. I'm like, this is my home, this is what I rep, this is where I'm from, this is as Seattle as a project gets. There's so much good music, and I think my goal has always been to bridge the gap for Seattle as a whole and create an infrastructure here where you can succeed from any genre or subgenre of hip-hop. I've been trying to chop it up with more South End artists, going out to more events, being present, and showing my support to know that there's love on both sides.

There's always been this idea — I don't know if you feel this too — but there's always been this energy of, like, limited success.

Yeah, like a scarcity mindset.

Because someone is taking three minutes to listen to my song doesn't mean that they won't take the next three minutes to listen to your song. They don't have to pick one artist. We can all win.

Especially because I think there's the impression that Seattle only really does grunge music and nothing outside of that. It makes it harder for artists that aren't specifically in that genre or rock to be like, no, we're here and there's a flourishing scene of hip-hop, of rap, of other different types of music.

Even in Seattle hip-hop, there haven't been many artists that have truly broken out and blown up that looked like me or are POC. So when people think of Seattle hip-hop, the first thing to go to is Macklemore. He has done a lot for the city and worked tirelessly to help build up the scene here. But it's hard for people to find hope in that when they don't see themselves in that person. As we come together more and continue to push the culture and see more artists make it out of the city that have that shared experience with the majority of the [hip-hop] community, I think we're gonna gain more respect as a region.

Obl Reed's got a big 2024 ahead of him. (Photo: Daquan Terrance)

How did LINDENAVE! come together as a project? What was the songwriting and recording process like?

I tracked all of those songs in my bedroom or in this treehouse studio that I built with my dad when I was, like, 10. When COVID happened, all of the studios closed, and I had nowhere to record. So I took it upon myself to gut out the whole treehouse — I put insulation in there, I carpeted it, I put in Wi-Fi and electricity, got a bunch of studio equipment, and just decked it out as a studio. It taught myself how to be an audio engineer. So "BLACKKIDS." was recorded in there three and a half years ago.

For the songs on this album, was it something you were thinking of cohesively, or was it a bunch of stuff that you recorded and were able to kind of fit all together?

In the creation of these songs, there was never that intent at the beginning to put these all together into one larger body of work. Music is my therapy, as it is for most artists. Whether it was ranting or reminiscing on experiences that I had, all of the tracks were tied to some sort of emotion and some sort of aspect of my life. When it came time, and I started thinking about building that larger body of work, I had already done all the groundwork. That's why LINDENAVE! was so special to me, because all of those songs were made over a three and a half year span, and I can hear myself, I can hear and put myself back in the shoes of the person that I was when I made all of these tracks. Because this is my real life!

"HOMETOWNHERO." came together because I went to an event and somebody that I looked up to didn't necessarily give me the time of day. And I was just like, you know, I'm trying to do a lot for the city, and sometimes people aren't gonna recognize that at the beginning. So [the song] is me ranting about my experiences, and the lack of respect and feeling a need for me to prove myself. Then [with] "SK[I]NCARE.," I was really getting into not only, like, actual skincare, but also self-love and taking care of myself.

With "SK[I]NCARE." in particular I loved the way that it kind of played off of the idea of self-care without being overearnest.

I like to say things covertly and subtly into the messages of songs. For the most part, I start my tracks with the title, actually. And so I was like, oh, I'll make a song called "skincare." And then I was like, ok, skin is like an outward reflection of how you take care of yourself. Now, self-love, what does it take to love yourself and grow as an individual? Then the song came together, and l have those brackets in the title because at the end of the hook, I say, "I care skincare got a whole routine." So I got the "I" as an emphasis on myself.

What is your skincare routine, by the way?

My skincare routine has changed up kinda recently. I used to put a lot of products on, but now I use this lemon-turmeric kojic acid soap — that's my base cleanser. Then I go to hyaluronic acid, which kind of locks in moisture, and then I do a gel moisturizer, then SPF — that's my morning. At night, I use black African soap, then hyaluronic acid, then my nighttime moisturizer. I try to keep it as natural as I can.

Nearly every song you've put out either has a music video or a visualizer that you've worked on with director Nash Pearson. They all feel so Seattle and so PNW in general, like with you and your friends filming scenes of "HOMETOWNHERO." inside the Capitol Hill light rail station. How do you guys choose a location or what to film?

We are outside so much: We go to events all the time, and we're going around the city. I'm pretty sure Nash's Google Maps has a million pins of us being places and being like, yo, this place is really cool, and somebody will just drop the pin on his Google Maps. I think a lot of my music recently that I've been making has been inspired by my surroundings, the places that I'm going, and so naturally we were just drawn to certain places. "SKYISFALLING." is in this seemingly vast desert. When in reality, we were on our way back from Treefort in Boise, and we saw this place, and we were like, yeah, this feels right: the giant blue sky in the middle of nowhere. The song is about feeling alone and feeling like you're the only person that is seeing the world falling apart. How could we not film, you know?

What are you looking to tackle in 2024?

I got some new music coming on the way. We just dropped the "PUSHEM." music video. It's more of the same, but at an elevated level. We're not changing who we are, we're not changing our approach, all we're doing is now there's more people watching. I'm planning on hitting the road again, and just continuing to put on for the city, make new music, and share my art with the people that need to hear it.

Obl Reed is headlining Barboza on Feb. 3 with special guest ARDN. Get tickets on Barboza's website.

Jas Keimig is a writer and critic based in Seattle. They previously worked on staff at The Stranger, covering visual art, film, music, and stickers. Their work has also appeared in Crosscut, South Seattle Emerald, i-D, Netflix, and The Ticket. They also co-write Unstreamable for Scarecrow Video, a column and screening series highlighting films you can't find on streaming services. They won a game show once.

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