rhyming for a cause - Rosalind Cummings

By Rosalind Cummings-Yeates
RHYMING FOR A CAUSE
S
discovering relief from an illness that has
menaced your body for so long – you've
stopped searching for a remedy. That illness
is called American Top 40 music, and
K'naan's finely crafted songs provide an
exhilarating reprieve. Opening with the soft
strum of an acoustic guitar and building into
a rousing drum beat, K'naan shoots out half
sung/half-chanted lyrics on "In The
Beginning," tackling freedom and the value
of children while easing into a danceable
groove. It's a studied outline for the CD's
song structure: hard-hitting words against a
catchy, melodious background. "I Was
Stabbed By Satan" follows the same pattern,
Photo By Uzo Oleh
K'naan
omali musician K'naan plays a rhythmic stew of hip-hop-influenced poetry
that borrows from ancient Somali culture as much as it does from contemporary
American influences. A refugee who fled his
home at 14, he retains the quiet dignity of his
heritage and yet fires lyrics with a swagger
that has been compared to Eminem. At 28,
the slight, curly-haired performer lives with a
foot in both worlds and works to pour the
dissonance of such an existence into his
music.
"I often have a hard time defining my
music," says K'naan, seated on his tour bus
after an explosive show opening for Stephen
Marley. "I can't really call it one
thing. It's something that comes
out of real experiences." And
experiences don't get any realer
than surviving the bloody civil
war outbreak in Mogadishu.
Growing up in an area dubbed
"river of blood," a young K'naan
witnessed the brutalities that
accompany war and oppression.
He was accustomed to clouds of
AK-47 bullets ripping through
the air and grenades and fires
swarming the streets. He and his
friends were often chased by
militia, most were killed. When
he and his family escaped on the
last commercial flight out of
Somalia in 1991, he was torn
about leaving relatives and
friends who probably wouldn't
survive.
It was that pain and the
blood-stained memories that
drove him to create music that
would bear witness to all the people left
behind. "Writing songs is therapeutic," he
says. "It's pain first, then you write about it
and it becomes a song. And that's it. You
transform the pain into art."
Leaning back in an easygoing manner
and frequently sliding into a gentle smile,
K'naan's demeanor belies the jolting potency
of his lyrics. His just released CD, The Dusty
Foot Philosopher (Sony/BMG), quivers with
the rhythms of resistance. From the oft-quoted "What's Hardcore?": "We start riots by
burning car tires/they looting and everybody
starts shooting/bullshit politicians/bullshit
politicians talking about solutions/but it's all
talk/you can't go half a mile without a roadblock/and if you don't pay at the roadblock
you get your throat shot/So what's hardcore,
really?/Are you hardcore? Hmm . . . "
Of course, the tune's resemblance to
gangsta rap is exactly the point K'naan wants
to make, and despite the djembe drum beat,
it's worth noting Nas' Illmatic served as a
blueprint for the tune. He listened to Rakim
and Nas tapes as a child, mirroring the seminal MCs' lyrical precision, despite not understanding a word of English. Two decades
later, K'naan recreates his childhood experience with a nod to his roots as well as his
North American influences. With only guitar
and percussion backing the album's 18 tracks,
the purity and purpose of his words shine
through. "I wanted to do something that
encompasses my two worlds," he says. "I use
the drum of Africa and the guitar of North
America because I'm half and half. I've lived
14 years in North America (in New York and
Toronto) and 14 years in Somalia."
After the CD garnered Canada's 2006
Juno Award for best rap recording as well as
a BBC World Music Award nomination for
Album Of The Year, the U.S. finally gets to
hear The Dusty Foot Philosopher, and it's like
with a soothing, bouncy, rhythm embracing
painful lyrics. "'I Was Stabbed By Satan' is the
perfect conflict. The words are really hurtful
but the music and melody is joyful," he says.
"I can't make dark music with the lyrics I
have because it creates immobility."
Immobility is something K'naan, which
means traveler in Somali, tries to avoid.
Despite refusing to classify his music as political, it has served to promote change.
Whether it's capturing listeners who don't
like hip-hop or calling out the United Nations
for its incompetence, as he did with a poem at
its 50th anniversary concert, K'naan has
inspired awareness. "I don't consider myself a
political artist. I hope there's a time when I'm
not protesting," he insists. "I think there's a
certain sanctity that's not in politics. I just say
things that are honest. I don't think about
inspiring change when I write a song, I just
think about that moment. I think it's arrogant
to expect a change."
Listing "the two Bobs" (Marley and
Dylan), as well as Fela and Somalia's most
famous singer/poet, Magool, as heavy influences, it seems protest music will remain a
part of K'naan's repertoire. Poetry and protest
is in his blood, as Somalia was called the
"land of poets" by the ancient Greeks, and
K'naan's grandfather and mother are famous
Somali poets. It's brilliantly illustrated in the
standout "Soobax," an uptempo anthem that
asks if you should cry or dance.
"I'd like listeners to examine where they
stand in terms of justice," he says. "Are you
part of those that hinder or are you a part of
those that help?"
On that note, this is the last "Foreign
Exchange" story, and I'd like to thank all the
readers who have followed this column's
musical journey for the last five years. I've
enjoyed the chance to introduce new sounds
and new cultures.