Interview: K'naan

Hip hop has effectively risen to be the dominant global youth culture and now the sounds of the world at large have begun to assert their influence on the music in return. Artists from K-os to Kardinal Offishall are infusing their styles with the international flavors of their heritage and expanding the palette of rap expression in the process. Add to this list Somlia-born, Canadian MC K'naan who has just released his sophomore collection of globe-trotting beats, Troubadour.

Having already earned a Juno award for best rap album for his 2006 debut, The Dusty Foot Philosopher, he's back with a set of songs that firmly establishes him as an artist unafraid to meld sounds from disparate countries and cultures on his sonic canvas. His profile is on the rise based on the infectious quality of the music and his confident lyricism, so we tracked him down to discuss the recent success. He talked to us about everything from his early days on the war-torn streets of Mogadishu to cultivating a "New York State of Mind."

As a hip hop fan I knew you from Dusty Foot Philosopher, but I feel like you're getting a much bigger push from the label on this album. What's it's like to be taking that next step up in the public consciousness?

It's really great man. I felt like the music deserved to be heard by a lot of people. People who are hearing Troubadour are investigating and finding Dusty Foot Philosopher. Which is great because I felt like that should have been heard as well.

One thing that I think definitely helped raise your profile amongst rap heads was the BET Cypher performance that you put down. Even if people didn’t know you could rap before they saw that, they knew afterwards. How did you get called on to do that and how was the experience.

It was great man. BET just reached out. Word was getting around to different artists who were like, "yo, we're checking for him." So eventually the program directors called me up. It was amazing to be in that room because we did like four rounds. Each time we did something new, and each time Bun B would stop and be like, "Yo! You're crazy." I remember one round they didn't use. I did this rhyme. Then Bun B went after me and did his rhyme about how I did my rhyme. It was a massive compliment.

They also invited Hime, the Japanese female MC to the Cypher. That goes to show the global nature of hip hop now. It's touches every corner of the globe. Growing up in Somalia, did you have access to hip hop music back in the day?

Not at all actually. I did have the rare privilege of getting Paid In Full when it came out though. I was the only kid anywhere near the vicinity of the neighborhood I lived in that had that. Hip hop wasn’t a known form in Somalia like it is now. To be truthful, the thing that hip hop suffers from when you talk about the "global nature" is that it can be a little corny. Meaning, it doesn’t really consider all of the cultural elements. Sometimes it's not culturally sensitive and not lyrically representative of the way the streets are set up. But my fortune was that I lived in Somalia and when I came to America as a teenager, I could only live in the hood. So I got the perfect middle ground of the two worlds.

It's interesting that you say that, because when hip hop started in New York in the late '70s it was a revolutionary sound made by a distressed population who were essentially at war. So those revolutionary roots are perfectly suited to provide an outlet for regions who are unfortunately touched by warfare today.

There is no place more defined by warfare than Somalia or in more dire need of that representation that hip hop can give. The country and Mogadishu, where I'm from, is more dangerous than Iraq. That level of violence, and that kind of poverty and struggle needs some kind of voice.

I like to think of myself as somewhat informed, but everything I know about conflict in Africa comes secondhand through the prism of news media. As someone with firsthand knowledge, do you think news agencies under-represent or over-represent who bad things are?

It's pretty difficult to over-represent how bad it is. But what is missing in the Western representation when it comes to Somalia is that they present us as struggle minus dignity. Which is untrue. Our struggle continues to maintain and uphold its dignity. We are not a people without dignity. That's the difference. When they aim cameras into our lives they just don’t know how to represent us. I feel like the music I make is a good mediator between the Black experience in North America and the Black experience in Africa.

The same way I have my secondhand conception of what's going on in Africa, people there must be forming their own ideas of what life is like here. Do you have any concept of how people there view North America?

The same way I have my secondhand conception of what's going on in Africa, people there must be forming their own ideas of what life is like here. Do you have any concept of how people there view North America?

Of course everything has its stereotypes connected to it. I remember when I was young growing up in Somalia, we'd be sitting on top of buildings with kids with guns tucked under their shirts just taking about life. They'd look at me like, "K'Naan, your Dad is an American. One day you're going to go to America." All that we could think was that it was a place where all the problems of the world disappeared when you went. Untrue when you got here. You found out real quick that you were relegated to the parts of America that kind of reminded you of Africa.

But with even less sense of community. Here, if you're poor, you're poor by yourself.

That is the perfect description [laughs]! Back home if you were poor, you were poor with everybody. And if you eat, you eat with everybody. Here you eat alone. It's funny, because it’s so apparent in music videos. I don’t know what it is with artist who are from the hood, but make videos like they're mad at the hood. They're like, "I'll show you!" Why? Nobody was mad at you in the hood when you were poor. Then you come back to the hood with a Bentley screaming, "In your face motherfuckers! I hate you!" I don’t understand. If I make money and I'm going back to Somalia, I'm damn sure not trying to show off. I'm going to try and help.

You hinted at your journey to America earlier. For you fans who don’t know, can you break down the story of how you made your way to Toronto?

I was in Somalia until I was 14-years-old in the capital, Mogadishu. I had some peaceful years over there, but still the neighborhood I grew up in translated to "The River of Blood." It was a place where people from the outside avoided. It was always a little rougher that everywhere else, but when the war broke out it was incredibly difficult. After that, you spent your time just surviving block-to-block. Cats were getting shot on a day-to-day basis, so you never could imagine a future. That was life until my mother in her audacity decided she was going to get us out of there. Sure enough she got us out. We were one of the last people to leave before the country completely collapsed and shut down. We made it to New York, then had some immigration issues and had to continue on to Toronto.

At 14 I don’t imagine you spoke much English. Did hip hop help you integrate yourself into Western culture?

I actually didn’t speak any English at all. I couldn’t construct one sentence. I picked up a lot of hip hop albums because it was the only thing about America that was remotely relatable to me at all. So I would listen to music to learn the language, and more than that, the culture. Lyricists would make references to things that I would later go and research to learn more about.

When did you decide that rap was going to be your career?

I never really thought about it as a career, but I thought the possibility was there after I heard "New York State of Mind" from Nas's Illmatic. I heard that song and was floored. I wondered how he could paint visuals like a film using the English language. I knew how to do that in Somali, but in English I didn’t think it was possible to be that poetic and expressive. I thought, if Nas could do that about the Black experience in America, I could do that about the slum experience back home.

Did the fact that you employed some more left-field sounds in your music make it harder for you to get put on at first.

I was never really looking to get put on. You have to understand how accidental my whole shit is. Everybody I knew from the hood I was living in was trying to rap. I remember them doing demos and going to the open mics. I had skills that were surpassing most of those cats, but I never wanted to go that route. It wasn’t about trying to get on, it was about refining my sound so much that it becomes necessary to people.

Speaking of refining your sound. I feel like you're spitting from a position of power on this new album. You're in your zone and feeling strong.

You're exactly right. I wanted this record to be about the clear position that I occupy in the world of music. The Dusty Foot Philosopher hinted at that. Now I'm here. On Troubadour, this is my spot.

Source: Artist Direct