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KRS-One 02.04.01 The peaceful, subdued vibe inside the comfortably dim S.O.B.'s suggested a sense of high purpose. Turntable-born beats cracked gently overhead as soul searchers of all colors chatted politely or sat meditatively, awaiting the prolific KRS-One. There would be no booty-shakin' or hand-wavin' in the house tonight. Instead, we would intently listen to a passionate sermon on the history and philosophies of hip-hop, delivered by the socially conscious rapper and founder of the influential '80s hip-hop outfit Boogie Down Productions. With today's mainstream rap music scene dominated by slick sounds and even slicker images, one might imagine that an outspoken voice, such as KRS-One, would go mostly unheard. But tonight's turnout proved there is still room for depth and introspection in the world of hip-hop. Beginning with the rarely-examined linguistic roots of the genre, KRS (born Lawrence Krisna Parker) took us back to ancient Egypt and Africa before focusing on 1970s America, where Cool Herc's breaks and Africa Bambaata's mic toggle switch threw a new spin on creative statement: rap music. 'What's the difference between RAP and HIP-HOP?' KRS asked, panning from left to right on the stage like a DJ mixing vinyl. 'RAP is something that you DO, HIP-HOP is something that you LIVE.' Much more than just music, hip-hop is the code for the way you view and react to your environment. 'It's an alternative behavior,' KRS boomed, 'that gives you the ability to look beyond the physical reality of what you've been taught.' It's easy to overlook hip-hop's ancestry in the age of bling bling. KRS reminded us that, before its inception into the mainstream, hip-hop was considered criminal. Block parties, aerosol art and turntable scratching were extremely subversive during hip-hop's formative years. But the first Breakers, Emcees, Deejays and Graffiti artists who believed in themselves stood up to the opposition and saw their culture explode around the world. 'Listen to your inner voice,' KRS urged us, 'Because your inner voice is the voice of God.' Three long, introspective hours left us mentally exhausted but inspired enough to sign up for the Temple of Hiphop, KRS' organization touting Africa Bambaata and Cool Herc among its members. 'I'm telling you all this,' the Hip-Hop Teacha explained at the end of his ceaseless, three-hour speech, 'not from something that I've read, but from something that I've lived.' And that's about as real as it gets. - Hal Miller This review originally appeared on FUBU's Y2G.com. |
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© 1999-2002 by Hal Miller |
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