K'NAAN Interviewed by Travis Magazine!
Posted 10/21/2009 by amoctone
Oh, Hello K’naan, Have a Seat
FROM DUSTY FOOT PHILOSOPHER TO INTERNATIONAL TROUBADOUR
by Ryan Bolton
K’naan is a tough guy to get a hold of. The only chance we got to chat was when he just had just landed in South Africa after a 15-hour flight. We only had a small window before he was whisked away to another interview. We guess that’s what happens when your critically-acclaimed music expands across continents. But the Somali-born, Toronto-raised hip-hop artist recently sat down with TRAVIS to chat about the current state of hip-hop, his volatile homeland and why the West needs to stick to the West.
TRAVIS: It’s a really intriguing story that you learned English through the raps of Nas and other hip-hop artists after fleeing Somalia as a young boy. Can you expand on this?
Well, I think different people have different ways they learn and what they respond to. I wasn’t particularly into the system of school and the model of teaching. I was also very suspicious and I wanted to take that into my own hands and learn a little differently.
And so I would take tapes and listen to them. I would try to take phrases and try to figure out what was being said. So, between the dictionary and writing out the words, I was able to learn a lot. Outside of that, what it did for me was it introduced me to a lot of culture that I wouldn’t have otherwise known. Because hip-hop is often the art of cities, there would be either stories or similes. I would search for a character that has been set in a simile, and I look for who the character is. I look at how the struggles of becoming a congresswoman and it led me to the Civil Rights Movement. There are so many things that I learned outside of English being a communication tool.
You seem to be doing something that a lot of other musicians don’t seem to be doing anymore – your songs carry a message. If you look at your songs like, “What’s Hardcore?” or if you look at the lines from “If Rap Gets Jealous,” like “I don’t even hear verses no more / I hear jerkin’ off, punks with lip glosses and purses.” It seems like you have a pretty big beef with today’s rap and its rappers.
We’re formed by the circumstances that we know. The place that I come from and what I know is really different than the place that a lot of mainstream rappers come from. I was becoming relevant in the same industry as them and there are some questions that needed to be answered because of that. Just my presence alone in the music industry poses questions and I wasn’t shy to ask those questions. Even though I respect other peoples’ struggles, we come from a vastly stronger struggle.
And how do you think you’re perceived by other mainstream hip-hop artists?
If it’s any sign of what they say to me when they see me, then it seems like they are really happy that I’m around. They’re proud of what I’m doing. They feel like their eyes are opening to a new world. I mean Nas, one of my favourite MCs of all time, in a recent interview, he was talking about me and my relevance in rap. He was sayin’ that he felt like I opened up a whole new world to him.
That sure means a lot, eh?
Yes, absolutely.
Although you rap about your upbringing and Africa quite a bit in Dusty Foot Philosopher to an extent, you really delve deep into your life back in Somalia in Troubadour, especially with songs like, “ABCs,” “T.I.A.” and “Somalia.” Why is this?
I guess I’m still in emotional purgatory. I think that’s probably a subconscious response to not living comfortably, but evading it. What happens is a part of you is still left behind and so my songs are still very much concerned with those things [back in Somalia]. In the small hours of the night, the time that I’m alone and I’m open and emotional, these are the thoughts that I have, so I write them. It seems like there is still a lot unresolved.
A lot of your work highlights issues happening back in Africa. Especially when you attacked the media with the pirates off the coast of Somalia, for instance. In what ways do you see yourself as giving a voice to such issues?
I feel like I’m kind of pushed into those positions. Circumstance does that to me. It’s not like there are choices used in the U.S. for public views from Somalia. There just isn’t. The news and the media works in a completely unremarkable way of telling the story from a one-sided way. And then my people look to me and wait for me to say something, because I’m the only one with the platform to do so. So, I kind of have to. But I don’t like being in those kinds of positions. I like writing songs. I don’t necessarily like to be on TV giving statements about pirates.
Right, and I read somewhere that like Bob Dylan, you don’t liked to be titled political. Instead, you really write protest songs like “Soobax.” Is it really important to stand up for certain issues for you?
It’s not important like calendar important. It’s not like a plan. It’s not important in the sense of a mission statement, it’s important in a sense that it’s just in my soul. It’s an urge. It’s a leech to get off your body. It’s nothing that I control. In that sense, it’s important. But if it’s political, like I have an idea of what I’m suppose to say, then I really don’t have anything to say.
When you are coming to Sheridan to pump out some spoken word and maybe some songs, we’re holding this Respect Campaign. How important is the topic of respect to you and what you do in this industry?
Well, I think respect has a lot to do with many things. It definitely has its place in dignity. When you respect people and their struggles, what happens is you tend to keep your dignity intact. Without dignity is dangerous. I think war is what happens when you take people’s dignity away. So, I really do think that a lot of medicine is contained in respect.
For students that might want to get involved in worldly issues, like, say, AIDS in Africa or genocide, but might need a little push to get involved, what would you say to them?
I wouldn’t give them a push if they were on the edge. I would ask them a question. I would ask them, “Why?” Why do they want to do what they want to do? Because a lot of people make the mistake of thinking that they have some position – that they live in the West – that they have some position to be of assistance or help to Africa. Oftentimes I really think that is another way to discredit Africa. I just wonder why these young students, who don’t really have a lot to offer, I wonder what makes them think they are in a position to be of help to such a great continent.
Can you go deeper on that? Do you think a lot of youth are maybe going on an empty promise? That they might say they believe in something, but the passion isn’t there?
You have to question what you believe in and where your beliefs come from. Sometimes our beliefs are based on falsehoods. If you look at this continent [of Africa] surely there are lots of problems, but what do you know about those problems and its causes? I meet a lot of people who say strange things to me, like a fan will come up after a show and say, ‘Hey, I just want to go and help Africa.’ And you’re kind of just like, ‘What do you mean? How would you propose to do something like that and who said that Africa is in need of your help?’ I just think that those are the bigger questions, it’s not on your questionable intentions. It’s your political and cultural viewpoints that this is a place that waits for you to help it.
Obviously talking about back home in Somalia is difficult, but just quickly for readers that don’t know, back home is now called the River of Blood. Why is this?
It’s a name for within Mogadishu, Somalia. But it’s been called that for a long time. It’s been called that when I lived there. It was a particularly difficult environment in the area and therefore was called the River of Blood.
But right now, more importantly, what’s going on generally in this country is a humanitarian crisis. The big issue is no central government. There hasn’t been a central government for 18 years. People are having a hard time surviving; there’s just too much violence. And the world has basically turned its back on this country, so there’s a lot going on and that’s why we need to look at the piracy [off the coast of Somalia].
Your name means ‘traveler’ in Somali – something that you obviously live up to these days traveling around the world, like being in South Africa right now. But what can we expect next for The Traveler?
Hopefully, just more music and more touring. Also, more sharing of sounds and ideas and so on. Just watch for it.
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