Juneau-based hip-hop artist Air Jazz—short for Arias Jazzer—released his bold new EP Uncle Tomahawk on May 2, delivering a raw and cinematic project that blends airy jazz elements with aggressive, warrior-style beats. Inspired by Alaska’s vast landscapes and deep-rooted struggles, the album introduces a controversial anti-hero who targets abusers, traffickers, and corrupt systems with unapologetic force. Featuring collaborations with Killah Priest and Juneau producer CandyFailure, Uncle Tomahawk pushes Air Jazz’s sound into darker, more confrontational territory—challenging listeners to reckon with pain, justice, and the complexities of healing.

Where did the name Air Jazz come from, and how does it reflect your musical identity?

It’s actually an abbreviated form of my first and middle name—Arias Jazzer. But it also captures the essence of my sound: airy, jazzy hip-hop. I lean into spacious, atmospheric textures that let each element breathe, while still rooted in rhythm and soul.

Can you tell us a bit about where you’re from and how your environment shaped your sound?

I’m from Juneau, Alaska. It’s a place of glaciers, mountains, fjords, and the Tongass rainforest—it’s a marvelous landscape. That wide open, sometimes hauntingly quiet environment had a big impact on me. It made me gravitate toward vast, expansive musical soundscapes. My sound is definitely grounded in that sense of space and solitude.

We hear you have a new project on the horizon—what can you tell us about it?

Yeah, I just dropped a new EP called Uncle Tomahawk on May 2. It’s a short album built around this character I created—Uncle Tomahawk. He’s kind of an anti-hero for the Native and BIPOC community. He goes after people responsible for the harm plaguing our country—abuse, trafficking, exploitation, all of it. He’s flawed, even infected by mental illness himself, but he’s dead set on bringing justice, even if that means becoming a villain in the eyes of some.

How would you describe the sonic direction of this album compared to your past work?

This is a new direction for me. My last work, Manga Maniac, had a moodier, comic book-style sound. With Uncle Tomahawk, the production’s heavier—more horror elements, more aggressive percussion and samples. It reflects Uncle Tomahawk’s emotions—rage, grief, intensity. It’s still jazzy in moments, but way more combative.

Any collaborators or producers we should be excited about?

Definitely. I’ve got Killah Priest featured on the title track—his energy just brought the concept to another level. And one of the songs was co-produced by fellow Juneau artist CandyFailure, who’s doing amazing things out here.

What are you hoping fans take away from this next chapter of your sound?

I hope people understand that this project is a reflection of the pain and chaos in our communities—but also a call to action. I know my approach, and my words, won’t land with everyone. Some might even see me as the villain. But my goal is to expose hard truths, including my own mental struggles. Our people shouldn’t tolerate any kind of abuse or exploitation, and they don’t need to wait on someone like me to take a stand. They already have the power. Gunalchéesh.

In recognition of Red Dress Day and the ongoing MMIP crisis, we spoke with organizers from the University of Alaska Anchorage’s Walk for MMIP to learn more about the event, its purpose, and the deeper meaning behind it. In the following Q&A, they share reflections on community healing, the importance of visibility, and how both Indigenous and non-Indigenous people can stand in solidarity in the fight for justice.

UAA hosted a Walk for MMIP on May 1 as part of Red Dress Day awareness. Can you tell us more about the event, its purpose, and what you hope participants will take away from being part of it?

We came together as a community to attempt to heal and draw awareness to MMIP.  Michael Livingston, an avid MMIP activist, was our speaker. He shared a poignant story about his experience as a police officer and the history of Benny Benson, the true Alaskan flag creator.  Antonia Commack, an MMIP activist, brought her posters showing many Alaskan MMIPs.  The purpose of the walk was to be seen – show our community we are here and need the recognition and support of the entire community to create the systemic change needed to battle this crisis. Many families brought their posters of family members. We also hosted 2 dance groups, Ingrimiut Yurartet—People of the Mountains and Anchichx kwaan. The dancing helps us call our ancestors to be with us and helps those hurting from this crisis some healing.

Why is it important for both Indigenous and non-Indigenous communities to recognize and participate in Red Dress Day and events like the Walk for MMIP?

Because MMIP is not just an Indigenous crisis, it’s a community crisis – the entire community needs to be involved for there to be no more stolen Indigenous People.  

How does misclassification or underreporting of MMIP cases affect justice and healing efforts for families and communities?  

Misclassifications and underreporting are ways that law enforcement and media systems make Indigenous People invisible.  If a murder is misclassified as a suicide, that family will never be able to seek justice. That family won’t be able to heal from that injustice. This leads to generational trauma that gets handed down to our children/future ancestors and their children.  These waves of pain keep rippling into tidal waves for all of our communities.

Can you speak to the role of education, advocacy, and institutions like UAA in supporting Indigenous-led efforts to address MMIP?

It’s vital that UAA honors and acknowledges the Alaska Native it resides on.  One way to do that at UAA is that faculty and staff use all of our abilities, whether educational, advocacy, or institutional, to elevate Indigenous-led efforts.

What does solidarity look like to you in the fight for justice for Missing and Murdered Indigenous Women, Girls, and Two-Spirit people?

It means showing up for community events, spreading the word about injustices, and demanding lawmakers and our state and federal representatives fight for visibility and justice.  Also elevate our community members, like Michael Livingston and Antonia Commack who do this hard work day in and day out because this work is very personal. Stand by them whenever they can because they need our support when they need rest and healing.

For those who may be newly learning about MMIP/MMIWG2S, what’s one thing you hope they take away from participating in events like this?

They can help support this crisis by learning more information, hearing the stories, and then elevating those stories.