By Emma Schwichtenberg

Gregory Buren, also known as Funk Daddy, is a cornerstone of Seattle's music scene, embodying the spirit of hip-hop through his multifaceted talents as a producer, DJ, and former MC. His musical journey began in the mid-1980s, inspired by the vibrant beats of Sugar Hill Records. Funk Daddy's early days were marked by a passion for rapping along with his favorite tracks, leading him to hone his skills on instrumental records. As he immersed himself in the craft, he started acquiring his own gear, including a Roland 606 drum machine and a legendary keyboard dubbed the "freak board," setting the stage for a prolific career.

Navigating the evolution of hip-hop, Funk Daddy not only sharpened his skills in production but also made a name for himself as a DJ, spinning at parties and contests. His determination led him to win prestigious titles, solidifying his reputation in the industry. Funk Daddy’s collaborations with notable artists, including Mac Dre, E-40 and Sir Mixalot, showcase his influence and versatility. His story is one of continuous growth, marked by innovation and a deep commitment to his craft, making him a vital figure in the Seattle hip-hop landscape. 

Converge Music spoke with Funk Daddy about his musical journey and the artists who have inspired him along the way.

With a career that has spanned multiple decades and collaborations with artists like Mac Dre, what keeps you motivated to keep producing and evolving in this fast-changing industry?

That’s a good question. I ask myself all the time, "Am I ready to give up? Am I going to stop doing music? Why do I keep doing it?" One time, while I was DJing, a person came up to me after my set and said, "You just love doing music." That's why I keep going—because I still love making music. It’s still fun to create, whether I’m mixing different sounds or producing. Of course, I don’t rap anymore, but producing and DJing are still enjoyable for me.

The Crooked Path album was originally released in 1998, the re-release was in 2021.  What do you think whenever you hear your older songs played?

When I hear my old stuff, it brings mixed feelings. On one hand, I realize that I'm a better rapper and producer now, but on the other hand, I wasn’t afraid to speak my mind and take risks back then. It was a different era; I appreciate the older era because it was more of a G-funk type of time. Nowadays, G-funk is a great sound, but younger people seem to only like it a little. They don't appreciate it as much as the new styles. So when I hear all that old material, I can hardly believe it.

Not to mention, I had only okay equipment back then; I didn’t have the greatest tools. I think, "I can’t believe I did all that with the equipment I had." We didn’t have access to unlimited tracks; we had an eight-track machine. If you ran out of tracks, you had to find a way to add more to the song without erasing anything. Later, I upgraded to a 16-track machine, but even that is nothing compared to what you can do now.

I'm noticing in the background what I assume are awards behind you?

Yeah, yeah. Those are for several projects. I received one for Sir Mix-A-Lot because I scratched on "My Bad Side," which is on his Seminar album. That's a gold album, but it's probably platinum by now, so I should try to get a platinum one as well. I also have a gold and a platinum award for In a Major Way by E-40, as well as another gold award for The Element of Surprise album by E-40. I think there's also a song on Charlie Hustle that might have gone gold by now, so that's another album I should try to get recognized for. Additionally, I have a couple of awards from Maribased1, another local artist I work with.

Going back to your earlier point about E-40, can you describe the moment he got the tape of your beats? How did that impact your journey and connections? What advice do you have for today's producers seeking their big break?

You can’t let anything discourage you. You’ve probably heard this before, but it's true. For example, many of the artists who reached out to me after I produced E-40 had been people I reached out to before E-40, and they weren’t completely saying no, but they weren’t very enthusiastic either. There was a time when I did a remix for someone locally—I'm not going to say their name because we’re all good friends, and it’s all good. They told me, “I don’t know if that’s going to work.” I took that same beat out of town and sold it to one of these major artists. Out of all the songs on that reel of beats—maybe there were 50—they said, “I gotta have this one,” and that one was a hit. It’s the same people locally who might have passed over that beat. You can’t get discouraged; you’ve got to keep pushing, have faith, and believe in yourself.

You know, do you ever work with young artists who are trying to get into producing and mentorship?

Yeah, all the time. A lot of people already have their set vision and ideas, and they don’t really care to pick your brain. But many ask me, “What do you think about this? How should I do this?” I tell them that whatever they want to ask me is free; I have no problem sharing my insights.

A good example is when artists come in and say, “Okay, I’m about to rap my third verse.” I have to let them know that nobody really does three verses in songs anymore, and that songs aren’t typically five minutes long. So, I’m always giving advice like that. For instance, I might say, “Let’s not double your voice this time,” because in most club or radio tracks, their voices aren’t always doubled. I just give advice as it’s needed.

I like that—yeah, just give advice as it’s needed. The Seattle hip-hop scene has its own identity, and I've talked to a lot of different rappers and DJs who have come up since the '80s and '90s. But you've worked with artists not just in Seattle, but all across the country. How do you feel Seattle's hip-hop culture compares to other regions, and what makes it unique?

My friends and I debate this a lot because they feel that Seattle is not hot, and that to make it from Seattle, you have to leave. But I have to mention my guy, DJ Peg; we’re DJs, so we’re still kind of in the scene and have our ear to what's going on. We both agree that Seattle rap is currently at a high level. There’s a lot of noise being made, and many people are creating good music. Don’t get me wrong; there’s still some bad music out there, but there are a lot of talented beat makers, DJs, and songwriters. In the past, I couldn't do a DJ set playing all local music because there were only about five to ten tracks that people might dance to. Now, there are enough young artists making hot music that I could probably do a DJ set with just local tracks. These artists even have followings, which is a big deal. You can go on YouTube and see some of these local artists performing in Vegas, and people are dancing and having a good time; they know the lyrics and everything. So, I’d say Seattle rappers are making a lot of noise locally.

Do you have any young rappers that come to mind who you've really been paying attention to lately?

To be honest, when I hear them on Facebook or Instagram, I just look them up on Spotify, add them to a folder, and listen. I don't really pay attention to the names. I could go through my playlist now and throw out some names, but there are just a lot of artists. I’ll hear a song that I think is major, see they're from here, and then I'll just slide them right in, you know?

At one time, you were just DJ Greg B, but when did you become Funk Daddy? And why did that name stick?

So, it’s funny because my former manager doesn’t remember this. Okay, so let’s see. In high school, I might have been DJ Greg; I might have been just Greg B, not even DJ, because I was a rapper. So I might have been Greg B, then I was G Wiz, and then I was back to Greg B. In college, I was hardcore Greg B, and that’s how I can tell where people know me from: if they say “Hey, Greg B” or if they say “Hey, Funk Daddy.”

So, in college, I was making songs as Greg B, and one of the guys I was working with said, “I’m going to go in this direction,” and basically left me to do my own thing. I thought, “Well, I gotta reinvent myself.” At that time, the artist CBO's manager was a guy named Ike. Ike doesn’t even know this, but he would come over to my studio downtown and say, “Oh, you’ve got a nice little studio with the music and everything, Little Daddy.” So I had changed my name to Little Daddy. In my first album, in the very first song, I mentioned my name as Little Daddy. The whole album was nothing but straight G funk.

Little Daddy morphed into Funk Daddy, and the album was put out under Funk Daddy. Ever since then, I’ve been Funk Daddy, and Ike has no idea that he’s the one who came up with that name for me. I always love it when people have this kind of impact on others' lives without even realizing it.

DJ Funk Daddy is currently working on several exciting projects in the music scene. Last year, he collaborated with Cool Nuts on a track featuring Too Short, showcasing his production skills and ability to work with major artists. He continues to collaborate with local talent, including Livio, Ro'Nae, Maribased1, Sosea, Two Oh Sicc'Em, T-Spade, Spoon, and rising star Zaina, while also nurturing new relationships with artists like Portland's Day Day, who is gaining recognition for his exceptional music.

Additionally, DJ Funk Daddy has released three volumes of instrumental CDs under the Chill Hop label, available on popular streaming platforms like Spotify, Apple Music, and Tidal. He remains actively engaged in the DJ community, regularly performing at shows organized by promoter Tisha Gallow and occasionally does shows with Steve-O, where he shares the stage with notable artists from the 90's like Jodeci, Ginuwine, 112 and Blackstreet. Funk Daddy's commitment to promoting local talent and evolving his sound highlights his dedication to the music industry and the Seattle scene.

Find Funk Daddy on Instagram @funkdaddyofficial.