MUSIC INTERVIEW
Rapper K’Naan may be the Pride of Africa but he’s the World’s to Enjoy. BY DEMARCO WILLIAMS
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OMALIA EARNED INTERNATIONAL headlines in the 90s for its civil unrest. Recently, the East African nation of about 10 million has received more front page coverage for a rash of pirate attacks. Because of negative clouds incessantly hovering above the country, few people know about Somalia’s technological advances or its proud artistic community. K’Naan, a thirtysomething Somali native now living in Toronto, is making some headway in changing the country’s global perception with a triumphant CD, Troubadour, that intelligently divides its time as a sounding board for social ills and a free forum of rap skills. Before hitting the road on a twomonth tour (the closest he’ll come to Atlanta is Greenville on May 15), the budding international star chatted with INsite on a world of topics. Are you touched by an African-American being in the White House? Absolutely. I think the whole world is kinda though. Personally? Absolutely. In what ways are you moved? First of all, outside of Obama and this historic moment, I just think it’s so pleasant to have a real intelligent, articulate [person] of our generation. So many components of Obama are relatable. For that alone, I think it’s a very beautiful shift or change. Do you see much intelligence amongst your musical peers right now? I think there’s a few of them. There’s always someone doing something interesting. We may not give them all the shine and attention. But I find some new music to have elements that I think are musically interesting and intelligent. In your bio it quotes you as saying your “job is to write what you see.” When you look across the American musical landscape, what do you see? I see a strange scenario in that not a lot of music is a true reflective of the true scenario that the world is in right now, which is kind of strange. If you look at the conditions of the people and you look at what they’re dealing with and what is going on and then you look at the music that is out, it’s completely not reflective of society. There are gas problems. There are people losing their homes. There are people who can’t afford education for their children. There are people who can’t afford healthcare. There are people losing people at war. [But a song saying] “I kissed a girl…” is on the countdown. It’s not a reflective time for music. I think a part of it is escapism, which, at times of difficulty, is necessary. But I don’t know that everything should be escapism. It’s a little strange and awkward for people who are in these conditions to be like, “Ah, I’m not really poppin’ champagne right now. I need a little bit of money for gas.” What are some of your fondest musical memories growing up? Wow, man. Everything from discovering the depths and genius of Bob Marley’s simplicity to [Bob] Dylan prose to Fela [Kuti’s] musical compositions to Nas’ painting of the world as he had seen it to Snoop’s new, fresh presence when he came to the scene. There are so many moments of brilliance that I grew up on. I just remember everybody having a unique place in music. Speaking of the Marleys, how did you connect with PG 18 • insiteatlanta.com • April 2009
Damian? I met Damian Marley on tour. We had been asked to do “Welcome to Jamrock” on tour with him in Europe. He and I had a conversation the first night we were on tour together. We just kind of linked. People had been telling me, “When you and him meet, there’s going to be a link.” He was saying the same, that people had been telling him that. We just made a strong connection, just personality-wise. We clicked. And then the mission of the music that we both are on had similar ideas to it, similar roots. We don’t make the same genre of music, but it’s kinda the same spirit. That’s how we linked. And then he introduced me to his brother Stephen and Steve kinda became like a big brother to me. What exactly is your music’s mission? Well, the first mission for any artist, I think, is to make great songs. You can’t gear away from that being the first thing on your mind as an artist. The urge is to make the best tune you can make, the greatest melody, the greatest rhythm, the greatest poetry. All of that is the first thing. What follows is extension of those things. Damian was talking once about this very thing and he said, “Man, the thing that’s different about your music from a lot of different rap music is that your music is about a people where usually rap is about themselves.” So, another thing for me is to expose a true character of a people, of African society. What are some of the things you love about home? There are different parts of Africa that have different charms. Senegal, to me, is sound. Different regions have different sounds. The intricacy of music for me is Mali and Senegal. I think that melody and poetry is East Africa. Where I come from, the melody is just incredible. Somalia is poetry. To me, we live in this environment where we are under the blanket of the majesty of poetry. We live this existence. An entire population lives it. That is truly what I miss- a society that puts articulation before most things. You currently live in Canada? That’s partly correct. I haven’t lived anywhere for a while. I’m on tour all of the time, so I just don’t feel like I live anywhere anymore. I know the critics adore your sound, but what has the feel been like on American streets? Even more so. When you’re at a K’Naan concert, it makes converts out of people. You begin to believe in things, whether you want to believe in rap again or you just want to believe in music again or that people have the bravery to say things on stage or that you can be moved by a melody without words. You get to believe in all those things again. Troubadour, did I pronounce it correctly? You pronounce it like True-ba-door. Why is this album so important right now? I just think it’s such an honest reflection of the times. It’s an honest reflection of me. I just think it has such a lane of its own. [With] the musicality and the freshness of this album, I kind of see it as an antidote to a lot of what is going on musically right now. It’s sort of like the manifestation of “Dr. Carter,” the song that Lil Wayne had on his album where he talks about rap being sick. It needs a doctor. I see this album as like the manifestation of that. It’s the medicine. That’s what I feel when I listen to this album.
