I can’t exactly remember how the conversation even began, but in January of 2023 I hopped on a video call with Colter Olmstead and Shadow Deveraux to talk about an idea they had been building on for a while. I’d known Shadow for close to eight years by that time but our interactions were limited mostly to shows. And if you know anything about travelling for shows in Montana you know most people have to turn around quickly and go right back home afterwards to get back to the daily grind, whatever that may be. I hadn’t met Colter in person yet at that time, but I knew his work from the music videos he’d made for other local artists over the years and I was always impressed with the quality and care he put into his craft. In Montana, where the hip-hop community is still growing and spread thin across wide distances, moments like this don’t come around often.
The goal was simple: bring together a group of Montana artists and producers to make an album over ten days, all while filming the process for a short documentary. They wanted to help foster more unity within the local hip hop community and produce a project that authentically represented the spirit of Montana. At that point in my life, I was working on my own collaborative projects with some friends but things were moving kind of slow. Funding the dream was at a bit of a standstill, and that can put a lot of your ideas “on the backburner”, so I was excited about the idea and humbled to be asked to be a part of the first run. That call planted the seeds for something much bigger than any of us really expected.
Fast forward nine months: September 1st. I didn’t have a reliable vehicle so one of the cameramen, Nick Uzzardo, gave me a ride from Belgrade to Polson. The drive felt endless, the kind of stretch that happens when you’re excited to escape your mundane daily routine. Even though we were “working,” this was the best ten-day vacation I could’ve asked for. For ten days, I could forget the outside world and focus on being in the moment. Music had always been my therapy, my way of coping, and being invited to be a part of this project because of the beats I’d made over the years was an incredible feeling – someone had heard my work and wanted me to be part of their story.
Day one was arrival and setup. We stayed in an Airbnb on Flathead Lake, a beautiful place just outside Polson. The main house was set up for creating with producers and artists filling every room possible. Computers, laptops, drum machines, cables, guitars, keyboards – we had everything we needed. There was another house just a short walk away that was used more as a relaxing space to get a break from the constant noise. With all the artists attending, we had some people staying at each house bunked up like we were at summer camp. We cooked and ate meals together, each taking a turn at preparing them. We spent the nights getting to know each other and connecting, sharing memories, laughs, and hardships. There were even some bears that seemed to want to get in on the action, but mostly kept their distance.
I knew about half the artists invited. Some I’d known for years, others I’d met briefly, and some I was meeting for the first time. It was great getting to catch up with the ones I hadn’t seen in a while, but making beats alongside others was a challenge — I’m so used to working alone that tuning out distractions was harder than I expected. Being surrounded by so much creativity pushed me out of my comfort zone just enough to remind me that I sometimes need to let go of control and trust the process. My headphones weren’t the best, so I moved around the property to try finding focus some days. Being surrounded by nature helped a bit – silence was just a short walk away. But the closer you walked back towards the property, you could hear the pluck of strings, the thump of kicks, and the deep rumble of sub-bass mingled with whispers of artists working out their rhymes. It was a beautiful thing really, especially for someone who’d always just wanted to make music. It was the sound of a community finding its voice.
In those first few days, countless songs were born – around 60 in total by the end of the stay. Seventeen made the initial album release with a deluxe edition totaling 32. One producer named Fishbwoi produced so many tracks on his own that they released The Porch Tapes, a collection of songs created outside on the house’s deck, after the initial album release. I had made around 20 beats, and 5 of them received vocals for the project.
There were so many things going on in what felt like such a short time, but it felt like forever between the time we all left to go back to our regular lives and the time the album was released. Almost exactly a year later, Last of the Nobodies Vol. 1 was released to the world with 17 tracks and a rollout including a few music videos. Next up was the release party and I was blown away to see the amount of people that came out to celebrate with a bunch of talented local artists. Almost 500 people packed out the Top Hat Lounge in Missoula on September 13, 2024.
After the album dropped, the documentary was completed and started making its way around the country through the film festival circuit. It was nominated for Best Short Documentary at several festivals, including the Chandler Film Festival in Arizona, the Yellowstone Film Festival in Wyoming, the Hip Hop Film Festival in New York City, the Indie Short Film Festival in Charlottesville, VA, and even overseas at the Stockholm City Film Festival in Sweden! It went on to win Best Short Documentary at both the Roco Ranch Film Festival in Centralia, WA, and the Zepstone International Film & Music Festival in Salt Lake City. I had the pleasure of attending a few of the local public showings, and seeing the project come to life on the big screen was an incredible feeling. It was wild to think that something we built together in Montana, of all places, was being shared with audiences around the world.
Those ten days – and that release party – reminded me why I make music in the first place. It wasn’t just about finishing an album – it was about connection, creativity, and the joy of making art without pressure. Sitting on the deck one evening, watching the sunset over Flathead Lake while the music carried through the air, I realized this was exactly what I needed. I left Polson not only with a project I was proud of but with a renewed sense of purpose and inspiration. LOTN wasn’t just a trip or an album – it was a reminder of why we create together.
Last of the Nobodies Vol. 2 is right around the corner! If you’re an artist from Montana and are interested in being a part of the next chapter, submissions are open at www.lastofthenobodies.com/lotn2submit until December 12th!
photos by @samoverturfphoto
written by Mellow