C. Moore

Hip-hop legend KRS-One gives Chico crowd a little music lesson

IN YOUR FACEKRS-One signs whatever comes his way during his performance at Chico State. Born Lawrence Krisna Parker, KRS wasan original member ofhip-hop crew Boogie Down Productions, one of the trailblazers of gangsta rap.

IN YOUR FACEKRS-One signs whatever comes his way during his performance at Chico State. Born Lawrence Krisna Parker, KRS wasan original member ofhip-hop crew Boogie Down Productions, one of the trailblazers of gangsta rap.

Photo by C. Moore

A decade and a half ago KRS-One was one of the most influential rappers alive. Now, despite not having released a major record in several years, the self-proclaimed “teacher” is touring college campuses, giving lectures on the cultural traditions of hip-hop. On March 23, he was scheduled to give a lecture in the Bell Memorial Union and then perform afterwards.

The Associated Students Women’s Center deserves credit for consistently bringing “real” hip-hop to Chico State as part of its Break the Silence event. Unfortunately, this time the BMU courtyard was infiltrated by a Club 96.7 van attempting to co-opt the event by broadcasting songs like D4L’s casio-crunk hit, “Laffy Taffy.” Presumably, KRS would be quick to expose the station’s mainstream play list as an FBI plot to undermine hip-hop in his forthcoming lecture.

Unfazed by the radio presence, members of the polite young crowd walked in, were patted down for weapons, and then seated themselves in the chairs positioned in the back of the auditorium.

The smooth jazz coming from the house speakers was turned off and local jam poet Aaron Yamaguchi introduced two members of the unbilled Chico Youth Speaks Out slam poetry team. Ulysses Dorantes and Isaac Miller performed two poems together, unplugged, in the cavernous room. In the vein of spoken works by Sage Francis and Saul Williams, the two presented a dreamlike tour through the history of hip-hop, complete with beat-boxing and rhyming. What the two lacked in amplification they made up for with lyrical imagery and emotional depth.

After the short performance, the audience was asked to move to the front of the stage for the next act.

Opening for a hip-hop legend can be a tough gig, but local rap group Dialecs handled it with poise and confidence. The three rappers fed off each other like the members of Run DMC, expertly finishing each other’s rhymes and spitting choruses in unison. Performing their MySpace hits “Firestarter” and “The Chase,” the Dialecs had girls dancing and guys nodding along to the bass-heavy rhythms. DJ Thurty3’s scratches were hard to hear over the rumble, yet he remained very active on the turntables.

After the Dialecs left the stage, there was an awkward pause. We were told KRS-One had just arrived and it would take 10 minutes for him to get ready. An eager crowd remained near the stage ready for the teacher to do his thing.

That night, KRS left his podium at home and arrived not as the teacher but as “The Blastmaster.” He came out with a huge smile and proceeded to rap through a greatest-hits set that included abridged versions of nearly every one of his classics—rocking a medley of hits from a 20-year recording career while the DJ closely followed along, flipping each beat record to the next after the chorus.

Seeing that it was a “real” hip-hop show, KRS was quick to get the crowd involved. He brought out the godfather of call-and-response rapping, Chief Rocker Busy Bee. All night, the two worked one side of the room against the other to see which side could make the most noise.

KRS improvised on-the-spot raps that expounded his views on commercialism in hip-hop and the importance of knowing the history of the music. As a test of hip-hop knowledge, he rapped a mega mix of one- and two-bar stanzas of classic rap songs from the ‘80s, pausing at points to see if the audience was singing along. The knowledgeable crowd had no problem keeping up with lyrics from senior heavyweights like Rakim and Eric Sermon.

During the performance, KRS rewarded the crowd by autographing every item passed to him on stage. He also left outgoing messages on cell phones and handed out informational posters. Meanwhile, Busy Bee got loose with some funky disco dancing that ultimately expressed more about the history of hip-hop culture than any amount of academic postulating could have ever achieved.