Artist: K'naan
Album: Troubadour
Year: 2009
Grade: 3 pretzels
Over the past thirty years, nothing has affected the musical landscape as much as the emergence of hip-hop. It’s amazing to think that this entire sprawling genre of music, something we take for granted when it dominates our radio and television, has only been around for a few short decades. However, over the course of that time, we’ve seen hip-hop expand from tiny pockets in New York into an international phenomenon. More and more, we’re hearing rap-influenced music coming out of other countries. British rap already has its own strongly defined identity and M.I.A. has given us a window to yet another corner of the world. Now, from Somalia (by way of Canada), we have K’naan, who grew up on the streets of Mogadishu, listening to American rappers. If nothing else, his albums stand as an impressive testament to the globe-spanning reach of hip-hop.
Never for a moment does K’naan separate his Somali roots from his music. Troubadour is his second album and it opens with a track named “T.I.A.”, standing for “This Is Africa”. K’naan is very upfront with his views on modern, predominantly American rap, which glorifies violence and street life. It’s understandable how K’naan, who grew up in an environment where violence was less a choice than an everyday reality, might be strongly angered by posturing top 40 rappers. He spends most of Troubadour shouting out these wannabe street thugs. Coming from someone who escaped Somalia on the last commercial flight before the USA stopped issuing exit visas, it’s a compelling point of view.
The problem with K’naan’s message is that he keeps saying it over and over again. Far too many songs on this album (“T.I.A.”, “ABCs”, “Dreamer”, “If Rap Gets Jealous”, “America”, etc) beat the listener over the head with the message of “modern rappers don’t know anything about real danger.” While this is absolutely true in many ways, it’s almost implicit in K’naan’s identity. We know he comes from a very different background than most rappers. He doesn’t need to constantly remind us. Instead of sharing his experiences with his audience, telling stories from his youth in Somalia, he simply raps about how different he is without delving in details. It’s a classic case of “show us, don’t tell us.”
K’naan has a strong, crisp style to his rapping, which does help sell many of these songs. “ABCs” is particularly effective, thanks to its driving beat, horns and chanting. His voice is naturally a bit nasal and his voice feels the strongest when he manages to repress that a bit. It gives his vocals the edge and mature confidence they need to back up his words. However, he can also veer into awkward, adolescent-sounding rhyming, best heard on “Bang Bang”, which compares falling in love to being shot by a girl with a shotgun. K’naan enunciates very well (compared to most modern rappers) and occasionally, his precise delivery underlines the awkwardness of his words. It’s a careful balance and on Troubadour, K’naan hasn’t quite perfected it.
The one moment when everything clicks is the closing track, “People Like Us”. K’naan sounds impressively calm and controlled, drawing on many powerful images from his childhood in Africa (“no Morgan Freeman to narrate the shame” is a particularly good one-liner thrown in there). Most of all, it sounds very commercial. Compared to K’naan’s debut album, 2005’s Dusty Foot Philosopher, Troubadour sounds like a bid for mainstream acceptance. Of course, this is at odds with K’naan’s avowed dislike for mainstream rappers. Perhaps this is why the album is ultimately a disappointing experience. It sounds like K’naan is trying to beat modern rap at its own game. In the process, he’s lost many of the elements that make a Somali rapper truly unique.
Never for a moment does K’naan separate his Somali roots from his music. Troubadour is his second album and it opens with a track named “T.I.A.”, standing for “This Is Africa”. K’naan is very upfront with his views on modern, predominantly American rap, which glorifies violence and street life. It’s understandable how K’naan, who grew up in an environment where violence was less a choice than an everyday reality, might be strongly angered by posturing top 40 rappers. He spends most of Troubadour shouting out these wannabe street thugs. Coming from someone who escaped Somalia on the last commercial flight before the USA stopped issuing exit visas, it’s a compelling point of view.
The problem with K’naan’s message is that he keeps saying it over and over again. Far too many songs on this album (“T.I.A.”, “ABCs”, “Dreamer”, “If Rap Gets Jealous”, “America”, etc) beat the listener over the head with the message of “modern rappers don’t know anything about real danger.” While this is absolutely true in many ways, it’s almost implicit in K’naan’s identity. We know he comes from a very different background than most rappers. He doesn’t need to constantly remind us. Instead of sharing his experiences with his audience, telling stories from his youth in Somalia, he simply raps about how different he is without delving in details. It’s a classic case of “show us, don’t tell us.”
K’naan has a strong, crisp style to his rapping, which does help sell many of these songs. “ABCs” is particularly effective, thanks to its driving beat, horns and chanting. His voice is naturally a bit nasal and his voice feels the strongest when he manages to repress that a bit. It gives his vocals the edge and mature confidence they need to back up his words. However, he can also veer into awkward, adolescent-sounding rhyming, best heard on “Bang Bang”, which compares falling in love to being shot by a girl with a shotgun. K’naan enunciates very well (compared to most modern rappers) and occasionally, his precise delivery underlines the awkwardness of his words. It’s a careful balance and on Troubadour, K’naan hasn’t quite perfected it.
The one moment when everything clicks is the closing track, “People Like Us”. K’naan sounds impressively calm and controlled, drawing on many powerful images from his childhood in Africa (“no Morgan Freeman to narrate the shame” is a particularly good one-liner thrown in there). Most of all, it sounds very commercial. Compared to K’naan’s debut album, 2005’s Dusty Foot Philosopher, Troubadour sounds like a bid for mainstream acceptance. Of course, this is at odds with K’naan’s avowed dislike for mainstream rappers. Perhaps this is why the album is ultimately a disappointing experience. It sounds like K’naan is trying to beat modern rap at its own game. In the process, he’s lost many of the elements that make a Somali rapper truly unique.
No comments:
Post a Comment