Vitamin D: Seattle’s Hip-Hop Pioneer
Photos by Jordan Somers
By Emma Schwichtenberg
In Seattle, there is no one more influential on the local hip-hop scene than Vitamin D. A long-awaited and much-needed interview, Vitamin D has touched the lives of nearly every young hip-hop artist in the '90s and continues to do so today.
Derrick "Vitamin D" Brown carved out his own path in music at a time when hip-hop was far from the cultural cornerstone it is today.
When it comes to Northwest DJs, his early inspiration was his cousin, Eddie “Sugar Bear” Wells, from the group Emerald Street Boys. As a young boy growing up in LA, listening to Dr. Dre and Sugar Bear, he was introduced to exceptional DJing. It wasn’t long before he began to grasp the intricacies of their craft.
When he listened to unmixed songs on the radio and then heard those same tracks being mixed by DJs, he began to understand the art form. However, he didn’t get the chance to participate until he moved to Seattle and joined a program at the Langston Hughes Cultural Arts Center, led at the time by Steve Sneed, a key figure in Seattle’s theater community, who served as Director of the Langston Hughes Center for 11 years.
He got a summer job as an actor in a musical at 13, which sparked his interest in musical directing. He observed others closely, learning to use drum machines and mix on turntables, and began visiting the home studio of an old-school rapper from the late '80s, King Battle Dragon.
When many told him that sampling records was beyond his reach, he decided to tackle it himself. He took on summer jobs, acted, washed cars, and eventually acquired drum machines and began DJing on his own.
Converge Music spoke with Vitamin D about becoming a cornerstone of the Seattle music community and how the landscape of music has evolved since he first began.
When did you first DJ a set in public?
My first opportunity to DJ in public and get out of the bedroom was at a Garfield assembly. I performed with a group of my friends from the class of '93 and '92. We actually did well the first time we went out. I was the DJ for the group, which included six rappers performing in the style of Leaders of the New School and Grandmaster Flash. My gimmick was to come from behind the turntables and bust a rap, making me the rapping DJ. I would freestyle off the top, rapping about something happening in the crowd. From there, we started performing at various assemblies, which was a great way to build community.
How did you meet like minded artists to record with?
You would meet a lot of like-minded artists and hip-hop fans at record stores, which were cultural hubs where people gathered to check out new releases. I met many people at these record stores. Back then, word of mouth was crucial; if someone from another school heard there was a rapper at Garfield, they’d come by to challenge you, often leading to battles that tested skills, almost like lyrical sparring.
I was a poor student and used to skip school to visit other schools, battle rappers, and tag graffiti on buses. I lived hip-hop, buying records and hanging out at arcades, always needing to be home before my parents intercepted any calls.
Eventually, I connected with other rappers and beat-makers who shared my passion for hip-hop, and we formed a group called Ghetto Children. From there, we started performing at every festival and talent show we could find, including the FolkLife Festival, Black Community Festival, Amnesty International talent shows, and all-city talent shows at Langston Hughes. We took every opportunity to perform, bringing our turntables and doing our best, which ultimately led to making a significant impact.
You mentioned that you were initially more drawn to DJing than to other aspects of music. What was it about DJing that resonated with you the most?
DJing is its own world, and it's hard to pinpoint exactly what draws me to it. One thing that always stands out to me is my early fascination with sound. When I was young, I had a tape recorder that I used to tape sounds outside and listen back to them. I was captivated by how sound was recorded. I’m grateful my parents bought me tape recorders to experiment with.
I even figured out how to mix on a tape deck before I had turntables. My neighbor and I used to take apart tape decks and VCRs; I had a kind of scientific curiosity about how things worked. DJing has a lot of scientific elements, which resonates with how I view the world.
Many people say that DJing naturally leads into music production. How do you feel about that? When did you start to focus more on producing music?
For me, DJing and producing music happened simultaneously. In early hip-hop, the DJ was essentially the sound provider for the rapper, so taking on the role of producer was a natural progression. Early hip-hop production involved looping records in a way similar to how DJs did it, but with machines doing the work. Over time, as equipment advanced, so did our techniques and approach to production.
Where did your name come from?
I liked the name Vitamin D. It’s funny when you Google it because it often brings up the vitamin, but it also refers to this dude from Seattle.
Yeah, I had a terrible name before—T equals MC Squared. That’s quite a mouthful and definitely doesn’t roll off the tongue. I was in my nerd rap phase back then, trying to be a scientific rapper, but it didn’t catch on.
Then my friends started calling me Sonny Delight because of my beats, like Sunny Delight. Eventually, it evolved into Vitamin D, and that name stuck.
You get a good name, and you just have to roll with it. I miss the days when the hood would name you based on your attributes, you know?
I wanted to talk a little bit about The Pharmacy, which was your studio. I know it changed locations a few times, but its inception was in your mom's basement, if I'm correct.
The Pharmacy became what it was out of necessity. We tried going to professional studios, but the engineers would always reject our ideas, similar to what happened with King Battle Dragon. They’d say things like, "You can’t do that," or "That’s not going to sound right," or "Can you turn the bass down?" But we knew the bass wasn’t too much because it was part of the rap.
In the early '90s, many recording studios were run by rock enthusiasts who viewed everything through that lens. I understand that if I were making a rock track, it might sound a bit too bass-heavy to them. But back then, that's just how it was.
Do you think that changes in the environment have influenced the sound or production of music over the years?
Mostly, with computers, you can achieve a much broader dynamic range, so you hear lower tones more clearly. Now that they’re adding overdrive and distortion to low-end sounds, it creates even more intense effects.
How have changes in technology, digital platforms, social media, and physical equipment influenced your production techniques? What aspects of these changes do you find have evolved positively, and are there elements you miss from the past?
I started on tape, back in the late '80s and early '90s, when digital wasn't quite reliable for sound quality. We used tape because it was the best option available. I had a basic tape setup, so the quality wasn't great, but stepping up to reel-to-reel and one-inch tape improved the sound significantly. Eventually, we switched to digital with the advent of ADATs, which were digital tape systems that looked like VCR tapes and allowed for a lot of tracks. This shift brought clearer and cleaner sound, though sometimes it was a bit too clean compared to the thicker sound of tape. For example, albums recorded on ADATs, like those by Warrant and others, often had muddy lows but clear highs. This was the standard sound of Hip Hop from around '92 to '98.
Then Pro Tools came along, revolutionizing the game with its editing capabilities. Now music often consists of numerous edits and is pieced together in ways that weren't possible with tape. One thing I miss is having to record an entire verse all the way through, which made the process feel more authentic. I also miss when artists considered how their recording would translate to live performance. Nowadays, many artists use extensive edits and Auto-Tune, which can make live performances challenging because the recorded version might be impossible to replicate exactly.
Many people credit you with shaping the Seattle sound in hip hop, instead of asking how to define the Seattle sound, I'm curious about what elements you focus on when creating music. From my conversations with others, it’s clear that you’ve had a profound influence on many people in the industry. How do you see your role in that influence, and what aspects of music creation are most important to you?
Yes, I had an influence. I was the engineer for many of these artists, and I also had the opportunity to produce them vocally. While I acknowledge that I contributed to the Seattle sound, I reject the notion that I solely created it. The Seattle sound existed before I came on the scene, and there were artists I looked up to. These were the people who shaped the scene before me, and they were the ones I had to battle and earn respect from to even have the chance to perform. Back then, it was about gaining acceptance from the community and proving your skills before grabbing the mic in public. I had to earn the respect of the OGs and keep up with them to be able to contribute to the scene.
Who are some of your favorite people to spar with?
Of course, my Tribal Crew. B-Self is one of the best lyricists I’ve ever encountered, and he remains brilliant to this day. I also enjoyed rapping with H-Bomb and other members of the crew. We did a lot of freestyling back in the day and made a few tapes that are on YouTube, where you can hear us going back and forth, rapping about various topics.
There were a lot of great lyricists around, and we had some memorable battles. I never sparred with DMS; I didn’t want any problems with them. Generally, anyone around my age who was active in the scene, we would spar with. My crew, in particular, kept each other sharp, so those are definitely my favorite people to spar with.
I know that at the Pharmacy you have an open-door policy for mentoring young artists. Could you explain why you have this policy and what you’ve learned from helping to bring up young talent?
That’s an excellent question. My open-door policy is actually a form of rebellion against the old ways. Back in the day, it was all about gatekeeping and proving yourself to the OGs just to get a chance to touch the mic. The OGs would even make things harder, like challenging me or taking my equipment, forcing me to go through all sorts of hazing just to qualify. It was like a fraternity with all its tough initiation rituals, and I found that approach problematic.
So, I decided to do things differently. I believe if we uplift each other and sharpen our skills through genuine mentorship rather than through hazing, our community will grow stronger. Hip hop is a young person’s game, and passing down wisdom while receiving new energy in return creates a full-circle dynamic. I should help keep them grounded and they help keep me youthful.
Looking back, I wish there had been more people like that for me. There were a few, like Steve Sneed and others, who had a similar spirit. I remember a program where they had a somewhat open-door policy, but it was too crowded, and it was hard to get a turn. So, we decided to take matters into our own hands and create a space where people could have a genuine chance to grow and execute their ideas.
How early on into the Pharmacy did you have that open-door policy, or was it something you realized you wanted to do from the beginning?
It was always like that. From the start, anyone who wanted to be positive, sharpen their skills, and get into hip hop was welcome, as long as they respected my space.
How has your music creation process changed as you’ve gotten older, focusing less on tools and more on influences in life?
I incorporate a lot more live instruments into my sound now. When I started, I was part of the live music community, DJing with bands and playing keyboards and drums. My biggest evolution has been the ability to create a piece of music from scratch without using computers, or to use computers to enhance it, or to start with samples and records. I can start from any point now—whether it’s piano, bass, or drums. Going back to the idea of being a scientific rapper, I’ve moved beyond that label.
I know your music spans a variety of genres like hip hop, soul, and funk. How do you draw inspiration from these different sounds, and what elements do you bring into your own music?
I enjoy incorporating vintage elements, being a DJ and appreciating old breaks and sounds. My inspiration largely comes from my passion for music. People often say there’s no good music anymore, but I can easily show you 30 great songs from 30 different artists. DJing and working on radio shows also help me stay inspired. I DJ a variety show, so I’m never confined to one genre. Whether I’m doing a ska set or a rock set, I’m inspired by anything I think is great. For instance, if I hear an amazing rock song, I might notice how they tweaked the guitars and think about incorporating that technique into a hip hop track. My love for sound has been a constant source of inspiration since I was five years old.
I'm curious—you’ve got the whole setup in the background. Are you in your studio or at home right now?
I'm at home.
So you’ve got a whole home setup now?
Oh, yeah. Since we closed the pharmacy, I decided to jazz up my house. I set up a little recording booth and can now record a whole band if I want to.
How often do people come over to record with you?
I still have people coming over daily.
Is it the open door policy for that as well?
No, I can't just have people pull up to my house and expect to record. They try, but that’s not the open door policy I have. I’m still open to working with people who have a legitimate project and need my expertise. Things have changed, though—you don’t need a full recording studio to record anymore. With just a laptop, a mic, and an interface, you’re good to go. Now, I mostly act as the closer; people cut their tracks at home and bring them to me for final industry-quality touches. I only deal with a limited number of clients that way, so I’m not in the trenches producing vocals too much anymore.
In the final three minutes, I want to ask about your current projects. What’s on the horizon for you in the next couple of months?
When we last spoke, I was wrapping up an album, but I was just the engineer on that one, not the producer. I’ve started a new group called ToXic MaX-Q-Linity, and we’ve been shooting videos for that project. It’s a project where I’m creating everything from scratch—no samples, just live instruments. I’m very excited about it; I’ve poured my heart and soul into it. I’m also working with an artist named Jenna, who’s a soulful vocalist with a vintage disco sound. I’m excited about that, as I enjoy disco and jazz funk. And the Tribal guys are back in the studio, trying to rekindle the fire. It’s actually been going well; we haven’t lost a step too much. We just need to sharpen up on our skills.
Find Vitamin D on Instagram, @tallhomeyvita.
Find ToXic MaX-Q-Linity on Instagram, @toxicmaxq.
