The Twin Cities hip-hop scene has been a hub for introspective, earnest rappers dating back to the late ‘90s. St. Paul rapper OKnice has carried on that legacy—set forth by artists such as Atmosphere, Dessa, and Eyedea—over the past few years with a string of EPs, a few loose singles, and his latest release, Have You Tried Being Happy?.  The 15-track LP is his most ambitious effort to date, as he reflects on the intensifying failures of America’s social structures and his personal journey with depression and anxiety.

In 2022, it is not uncommon for rappers to talk about mental health in their music, but few do so with such depth and honesty as OKnice. Over the course of Have You Tried Being Happy?, he processes his battles with depression, anxiety, and grief, kicking off with opener, “I’m Still,” which displays his self-deprecating humor, clever wordplay, and introspection. Over the course of the album, he touches on growing up in rural Oklahoma, where he lived until he moved to St. Paul in 2009, on standout cut “Nowhere, USA”; offers a critique of hypocritical and racist suburbanites on “Pleasantville”; and tries to find peace during times of hopelessness on “Bad News.” 

We spoke with the St. Paul emcee about his unique and caffeinated merch for Have You Tried Being Happy?, the emo influences on the project, and what he hopes listeners will take away from his analytical approach to writing about mental health.

How has the reception been for the album so far?

Really great! I came into this album with high hopes for response, and they’ve already been exceeded. That’s exciting because I’ve always seen me and my music as a slow burn. Three months after a tape it tends to gain traction, which I’ve gotten really comfortable with (it gives me more of an ability to take my time with new stuff). But it’s so cool to have this make some noise from the jump.

The coffee/mug combo is one of the most unique merch ideas I’ve seen in a while. How does coffee tie in with the album, and your music in general?

I was once described as “Cage if he was addicted to coffee instead of drugs,” and I never had any issue with that, partly ‘cause Cage is a massive influence and because I am very much a caffeine addict. For this record, coffee didn't play a direct role, like no songs with it in the title, but my relationship with it is a good summation of who I am, similar to this album. I have wild anxiety that coffee 100% makes worse. But without it I will legitimately sleep 14 hours a day (shoutout depression). I need it to function. The worst part is, I don’t think I care about any of that dependency and its side effects because it’s comforting.

Did you get to choose what beans were used for your coffee? If so, what was that process like?

I did! I met with Ben, who runs Somnus Coffee, and he asked me what origins of coffee I like. I threw out a couple I really love, Mexico and Ethiopia. I told him I wanted to go with a medium roast to try and be as crowd pleasing as possible, he roasted up some samples, I drank way too much at my apartment, and picked my favorite. I learned a lot about the whole process, which was cool. I love hearing people talk about the thing they’re passionate about.

This project, like a lot of your music, talks a lot about your journey with mental health. Are there certain takeaways about mental health that you hope your audience can get from this project?

You get to be tired. You get to have moments where you just do not want to do this anymore. With that, there are also good days! It’s not a hopeless “give up” message. It’s just that even in like, mental health-friendly circles, people talk about that work like you can’t stop even for a second. But it’s work! Work is tiring, and so you shouldn’t feel bad for the days when you're doing the work and think “shit, this sucks and I’m just gonna sit in it a minute.” Then you get back to it. The last part of that is that work and healing looks so different for everybody, and there just aren’t universal answers. Be patient with yourself, you deserve it.

There’s a lot of references to burning/fire in the album and on the cover. Was that a conscious decision to use fire as a theme throughout the project, or something that happened organically?

That was weirdly, completely organic. Which I love. In therapy we do this thing where you go through scenes of your life, and by the end you’ve got these scenes and you get to get rid of them however you want. I always burn them. So that worked really well.

There are also references to the George Floyd protests and the aftermath on Have You Tried Being Happy?. What was it like being so close to those protests? Was it difficult to write about?

The difficult part in writing was just making sure I didn’t speak out of turn. The first thing I ever learned about rapping, only write what you know about. So it was making sure that anything I said was not outside of my experience and not co-opting anyone’s work or emotion in the name of a good verse. I also knew it was wrong for anybody making art to not address the world we’re in honestly. I have a responsibility, especially participating in a black artform, to be blunt about these things to whatever audience I have.

Ya know, it was eye opening in a few ways. I’ve never had any illusion about cops or these systems, but there were moments that folks you thought were good people showed their true colors. Talked about an uprising like it was hooligans instead of justified feelings. That, in addition to the pandemic, really showed me there’s way more people I need to keep in check and keep at an arm’s length. I got very comfortable with heavy conversations.

Over the past few years you’ve put out a few short projects and a handful of singles. Were you working on Have You Tried Being Happy? while putting out those projects? How did you decide on what would go on your album?

The early pieces of HYBH started late 2018/early 2019. Over that time I wrote some songs, got some ideas, but the bulk of what would be the final record was Winter 2020/Spring 2021. I realized it was going to take my full focus, so I stepped away from every other art thing in that time to write this project. For this record, we really just threw everything we liked at the wall and saw what stuck. I was working really hard not to overthink “this is for the album” when writing or even demoing. I also had to let go of any length goals I had, which was really freeing on the cutting floor.

You show off some of your emo influences on “Voicemail” and “Emergency Broadcast”. Why was it important for you to incorporate those styles in this project?

For as much as hip-hop is my first love, punk and emo were not far behind. They shaped a lot of who I was as a teenager, especially around losing some folks, and holding those things at once was always a part of who I was. I would win freestyle battles in way-too-tight jeans and band tees. I loved “mixtape” Wayne and Saosin. As an adult who has gotten even more comfortable with who he is, I wanted to find ways to incorporate those influences without it being gimmicky or feeling like I’m trying to chase youth. It was important to show it’s not just one lane of hip-hop that has these influences or sounds. I rap like I rap and still can work in these elements. I don’t have to MGK my whole image to hold these different passions in my art, no need to compartmentalize.

“Snake Oil” is another great collab between you and Defcee. How’d you two get linked up?

Every part of “Snake Oil” is amazing to me. I’m such a fan of that song! So, in 2018, Defcee watched me get smoked by one of the greatest battlers out of Chicago, Human, and I held my own just enough, I think, to earn some respect. Mid 2020 we connected online and shared a respect for each other's craft and talked about working together sometime. A track (“Scumbag”) had come up that I thought he’d be perfect for, dropped that 2021 to a good response, and the rest is history. He’s had a huge impact on me as a writer and just like a human moving music, trying to do good, and be dope.

You work with six different producers on this project. How were you able to keep a cohesive sound with that many beatmakers? Was there a significant difference between working with a bunch of producers versus one or two, like you have on previous projects?

I thought this was going to be way harder than it was. The beats were from several different points in time as well, so not even “I’m working on an album, let me get beats for that.” But to me it was about complimenting. Hex keeps dusty smooth samples on lock, so I’ll balance that out with some beats that have similar sampling qualities but that have got some heavier knock from Minnesota Cold, stuff like that. It was a lot of fun, like putting together a puzzle. It did feel a little more chaotic. I really like having personal conversations with producers and want them to feel as much a part of a project as possible, getting opinions, swapping ideas, etc. I don’t care for straight up transactional music relationships. That was hard with 6 people but I think we pulled it off. They all were necessary for how this album ended up at the level it did and got to hear things as they progressed to the final version.

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