ast Aire hesitates a moment, and his eyes get a far-off look in his eye that makes it obvious he is deep in thought. He takes another puff of his blunt before continuing to speak. “A song to me really represents a theory. I'll feel different from ‘86 to 2002. A song only reps that moment and I hope people enjoy it. People won't enjoy every moment. They won't understand every moment.” His views shine through in his music: as one half of the New York hip hop phenomenon Cannibal Ox, Vast peppers his lyrics with abstract metaphors that nevertheless manage to connect with a wide variety of audiences, from the hardnosed hip hop heads to the most discerning indie rocker. If people aren’t enjoying every moment, they certainly are enjoying a great many of them.

It’s immediately evident that Vast has the perfect personality for an MC. First and foremost, he has a lot to say. And most of what he has to say revolves around his artistic medium of choice. “Hip hop is universal right now. It's not chess, a certain people in a certain culture anymore: it's universal. I've been to Japan, I've been to Europe, I've been to Canada. Dogs, it's universal. I've been all over the world, I’ve seen it. You just love the culture and rep it right.” Vast has taken part in repping his culture, and has succeeded in spreading hip hop to new audiences. After this interview, Vast will perform in front of thousands of Ohio State students as he headlines the university’s annual Springfest. The concert typically showcases independent rock bands, but this year Vast and other members of his label, Def Jux, have taken top billing. Cannibal Ox’s debut album, The Cold Vein, resurrected New York underground grittiness, prompting many to hail the group as the next Wu Tang Clan. “If people want to compare me to Wu Tang, I take that as a compliment,” Vast explains. “I’m just a musician. I just want to make music.”

Vast has already made his mark on the music world. The Cold Vein is a hallucinogenic journey through the darkest areas of New York, an alienating and disturbing trip full of despair, but not without hope. “The Cold Vein is a metaphor that we came up with for adversity. Whenever shit gets real dark... when Luke lost his arm and he was hanging on to that little thing... he was in the Cold Vein there. When the light bill is due and Christmas is due too, that's the Cold Vein. Anything that's an obstacle or a problem, especially survival, that's the Cold Vein.” Vast has recently had to deal with a new set of problems arising from his increased celebrity. The recent touring of Def Jux acts has faced setbacks due to illnesses. Vordul, the other member of Cannibal Ox, has been unable to perform, prompting rumors of the group’s breakup. Adding to the fuel are reports of a Vast Aire solo venture. However, Vast is quick to dispel the gossip. “Can Ox is broken up? Don't believe the hype. Ox is bigger than a fucking album. That's my man, that's my close friend. Ten years ago, we were 15, 14. I never looked back. It's important to have a personal relationship with someone when you collaborate. I couldn't have no one else do the chorus of ‘The F-Word.’ He's on my new album. So you could call it a mini Ox album, but I ain't look at it that way. He's a friend of mine and he helped me.” Vast goes on to explain the etymology of the group, referring to a tattoo on his arm, the word “OX” in Gothic letters. “O-X is me and him. Cipher unknown. ‘O’ is cipher on the mathematic table, and ‘X’ is unknown, like Malcolm X is ‘Malcolm Unknown.’ ‘Cannibal’ is the aggression that you hear from us. It’s a metaphor for battle. ‘Cannibal’ is like ‘animal,’ like battling.” He concludes by condemning fans spreading rumors via Def Jux’s thriving Internet message board. “Fuck them kids that talk with their fingers, they talk from afar.”

Vast is quick to absolve the fans though. “I can’t blame them. The fans want 20 Can Ox albums. If they're lucky, they'll get four. My [solo] album is gonna be a whole other experience, because that's me. We’re working on a new album right now. When the new Can Ox single drops, we'll see who broke up.” I press Vast on revealing more details on his upcoming projects. “El [Producto, Def Jux label head and producer extraordinaire] is going to do some production, but not all. And get ready for the Vast Aire and [labelmate] Aesop [Rock] world. Expect the realness. Envision an octopus and in every arm, there's a banger. And then there's a black mist and there's two octopus when the mist clears and they all got bangers. Expect an EP, Aesop Rock and Vast Aire, the twin towers.”

The future looks exciting for Def Jux and their fans. However, I take some time to touch on the past, attempting to delve into the dense world of The Cold Vein. Vast explains the meaning behind some of the songs and lines. I ask him about the oft-quoted line from the album opener “Iron Galaxy”: “New York is evil at its core.” Vast looks worried that some may misinterpret the lyric. “First of all, I love New York.” What that is, is a metaphor: the Big Apple, in the center of it there's evil going on. At the center of it, those that control it are evil. That's what that line meant basically. Beneath the surface there's some shit going down.” He goes on to explain the motivations behind some of the other tracks. “‘B-Boy Alpha’ is me a Shamar [Vordul] reminiscing about what is was like when we were 10 and 12. The love we had for the music. ‘Raspberry Fields’ is for the smoked-out, crazy knuckleheads in the room.” One of the most potent parts of the album comes at the end, from one-two punch of the last listed track, “Pigeon” and the hidden track, “Scream Phoenix.” “‘Pigeon’ was important because that was one of the first three songs we did with El. But that last track is supposed to be hidden, but we didn't have enough space [The Cold Vein is packed tight at over 75 minutes]. The album stops at [track] 15. ‘Scream Phoenix’ is part two of ‘Pigeon.’ It was our way of saying we've been through so much shit, all that was us burning and we came out anew. ‘Pigeon’ was murky. ‘Pigeon’ was sad. You were at the bottom of the food chain. ‘Phoenix’ is like, look at us now. We're a god. When I heard the beat, we just kind of looked at each other, that one noise in the beat, sounds like water, then you got the choir on top of it? I was like ‘That sounds like a bird.’”

A smile creeps across Vast’s face as he recreates hearing the music for the first time. I ask how he approaches creating lyrics that mesh with the production, something that sets The Cold Vein apart from its peers. “Sometimes a beat is on...” he begins, but then he pauses. “You know what, I can't reveal that. I'm gonna tell you the truth, I've told that too many times. Common sense to anyone who does this: sometimes the beat is there and the MC works to that, sometimes the lyrics are there and the producer works to that. But I can't give away our kung fu. Our secret is improvisation.”

The innovative production on The Cold Vein played no small part in making the album sound so revolutionary. El-P, producer and MC of the seminal underground act Company Flow, gave the album an obscure futuristic soundscape, combining the dense layering of the Bomb Squad with the analog synths of Vangelis soundtracks. “I've known El 6 or 7 years. It was the beginnings, towards the middle of Co Flow. Towards the end, we were touring with them.” I inquire to the personal aspect of Vast and El-P’s collaboration, which Vast has already made clear is a very important part of his music. “Me and El are roommates. He's upstairs, I'm downstairs. I live across from the studio.” Vast and I discuss some of El-P’s new solo album, Fantastic Damage, which features Vast rapping on one of the tracks, “Dr. Hellno.” “That’s just me and him fucking around. We were heavy on the sex, that was the only theme. The second part is more [focused] on battle [rapping]. That was my thing for Hendrix, because it's the undercurrent of sex, because he's like the sex god,” he says, explaining the reference to “purple haze” in the song. “We call mushrooms ‘lazers,’ and ‘Lazerface’s Warning’ was he was with me and Camu [Tao, another Def Jux MC] and it was his first time.” I ask if El enjoyed the experience. “He loved it,” Vast says with another grin.

All these specifics seem to take a toll on Vast: he’s much more comfortable in the realm of the abstract. He steers the conversation back to a more general discussion of music. Vast describes himself first as a musician, not a rapper, and he discusses branching into other areas of musical expression. “I've produced. It's fun. I'm gonna get more into it. This one I’m working on, Camu did the beat, but I'm working on the elements. I'm more into writing songs and putting them together.” I ask if he has considered doing other types of music besides hip hop. Vast goes deep into thought, before carefully attempting to articulate his views. “I'm just throwing paint balls. What we used to say about [comic book artist Todd] MacFarlane: he knew rules so he could break them... that's the angle we're kinda on. We're not trying to be anything to anybody. We're like this is our vision at that time. At the end of the day I can just hope that I can do me and you can do you and we can co-exist. I'm doing music that reflects me. But at the same time, I'm not doing classical, I'm doing hip hop. I think hip hop can stop right now and it is the most phenomenal. And it's the realest.” He gets another far-off look in his eye and smiles as he talks about a topic clearly close to his heart. “It's phenomenal dogs. It's the best of jazz, the best of funk, the best of rock. The beautiful thing about hip hop is it's up to that dude's influences to take you on a journey. You can go on a funk journey or you can go on a classical or you can go on a reggae journey, but it's still hip hop.”

Vast is a man who loves personal expression, and hip hop is a music heavily reliant on persona and personality. His enthusiasm is contagious as he goes on to discuss some of the names in current popular hip hop. He loves it all. As undeniably skilled as he is at the mic, Vast begrudges no one who steps up to the mic to tell his or her story. As a music fan, I attempt to discern what Vast’s particular musical preferences are, but my efforts are rebuffed. “I just like good music.” I ask about the Neptunes, one of my current favorites. “I love the Neptunes. The best song ever is that... ‘I'm a pusher,’” he says, referring to “Grindin’” a gritty song by Clipse, an up-and-coming duo produced by the Neptunes. “A lot of people don't like that joint, but I love it. They're tight, man. Yo man, Eclipse? I'm getting their album. No matter how raw that is, this is art, yo. It's art. He was making a point that when shit got real we sold coke to eat. This is not a game. I've even been there, but i sold weed.” Vast then returns to the personal aspect of musical expression. “People connect lifestyles to art. You sell drugs, so now your song is wack. You can't do that: you're gonna miss out on mad shit. You're going to miss out on reality.” I recall Vast’s previous statement that not everyone will relate to every moment, not everyone will enjoy every moment. But Vast doesn’t need to relate to enjoy music: he values the very act of personal expression. “I'd rather just sit back and enjoy it. I was the kid listening to Tribe and NWA. I can't get with these people that only listen to NWA. I listen to it all.”

Vast’s philosophies seem to put him at odds with many serious underground hip hop fans, who are notoriously particular about their tastes, and quick to criticize mainstream acts. He places Cannibal Ox in the hip hop canon. “A bunch of kids getting on stage, scratching their heads, rapping at their sneakers, with a book bag on their back. You become a 30-year-old man and you want to make some money. You're not fucking 12 anymore. I understand that. Different crowds want different things. That doesn't mean all the music is wack.”

But Vast is not comfortable with the conversation’s negative turn. He goes back to his own music. Despite his complex views, he quickly dismisses his own expression as anything revolutionary. “Me and Shamar, we just some stupid ghetto kids. We collect comic books, we know some philosophy... We just enjoy lunch, you know what I mean? We're on some dumb shit like that.

We come from nothing so we're trying to make everything something. All these hits we made ‘cause we thought we were going to die, but the world didn't go nowhere, so now we've got catalogs of stuff we're gonna hit you with.” The world waits, with intense anticipation.