KRS-ONE has always been half-great and half-crazy. He came up out of the South Bronx to become possibly the most storied MC of all time—then broke hip-hop hearts across the world by voicing over a Nike commercial, declaring that “the revolution is basketball.”
He’s always been like that: preternaturally at home in the dusty confines of hip-hop culture and prone to do any old idiotic thing outside of that box. KRS once said during a panel discussion that he cheered after 9/11. Although he later said the quote was taken out of context, it’s typical of the “Zoroastrianism on crack” political theorizing he occasionally indulges in for the purpose of pleasuring right-wing anti-rap journalists.
On the mic, though, he’s fantastic. It’s almost strange that KRS has gotten so many props, because he doesn’t come across as a natural MC—his tone is too upright, with a high pitched, overly enunciated voice that sounds more like a teacher than a rapper.
But he’s The Teacha, the Blastmaster and his live shows are easily some of the best in hip-hop, even at his advanced age. For his new album, Hip Hop Lives, set to drop this month, he’s teamed up with former enemy, Marley Marl (Remember “MC Shan and Marley Marl are really only bluffin?”). The team’s combined age is probably the biggest number in hip-hop next to the percentage of decline in CD sales last year.
Luckily, the old MC from the Bronx and the old DJ from Queens can still bring it. Marley Marl puts together a respectable piano drop-driven track for the first single, which features Kris coming with his own trademark brand of consciousness: “Hydrogen, iodine, phosphorus/Hydrogen, oxygen, phosphorus/That’s called hip hop.”
Umm, do the knowledge, man. As much pseudo-intelligent bullshit as KRS drops, it’s impossible to hate on him. He has reached the level of ironclad props, where anything short of him becoming a Mormon and endorsing Republicans, like Eldridge Cleaver, did will be overlooked by the hip-hop fan base.
Ultimately, KRS and Marley Marl hollering “Hip Hop Lives” has no more bearing on reality than Nas muttering “Hip Hop is Dead.” Hip-hop will survive like mold in the hidden cracks. And if you don’t know where to look for it, try a KRS show.
May 20, Fillmore New York at Irving Plaza, 17 Irving Pl. (at 15th St.), 212-777-6800; 9, $20.
