Happy 25th Anniversary to KRS-One’s eponymous second studio album KRS-One, originally released October 10, 1995.
Lawrence “KRS-One” Parker has always been a strong personality. Whether it’s on the mic, touring on the lecture circuit or giving interviews, he leaves a definite impression. Since the beginning of his recording career in 1986, he’s been a poet, teacher, philosopher, community organizer, and overall hip-hop icon.
But on his self-titled sophomore album KRS-One, released 25 years ago, he seems even more larger than life than usual. At what he calls the “completion of my first cycle,” he delivered a tour-de-force that provides lyrical wizardry, vivid storytelling, and ambitious visions of where hip-hop as a genre should head moving forward.
Of course, KRS-One recorded six albums as the frontman of Boogie Down Productions. The South Bronx-based emcee re-introduced himself as a solo artist on Return of the Boom Bap (1993), a top-tier release for that year. KRS-One is an overall stronger and more cohesive project. The album was originally titled Hip-Hop Vs. Rap, which was the name of an extremely dope B-side for the “Sound of da Police” 12-inch release. Renaming it as an eponymous release is remarkably inspired, as the long-player centers on KRS’s personality, beliefs, and perceptions.
This album signifies the beginning of the Blastmaster’s “I am Hip-Hop” phase of his career, which rubbed some people the wrong way over the years. Some may bristle at the grandiosity of such a proclamation, but I believe that the phrase is largely misunderstood. Critics viewed his proclamation as a suggestion that he was the personification of hip-hop music as a manifestation of his out-sized ego. And while even KRS has conceded that ego had something to do with it, he further explained that by saying that he was “hip-hop,” he was taking a personal stake in its perception and growth. “I look at my career as a knight with a sword,” he told Rap Pages, “which is really a mic, and it’s people standing throughout the gateway of the realm of Hip-Hop, and you cannot get through unless you get through me.”
Community building and activism has also been a central part of KRS’s modus operandi since the early stages of his career. He spearheaded the Stop the Violence movement in the late 1980s, and during the early ’90s created Human Education Against Lies with the late and legendary Kwame Ture. With this album, KRS began creating organizations where hip-hop was the focus of their mission. He would launch the Temple of Hip-Hop a few years after this release, and you can hear the seeds of this association’s guiding principles in the DNA of KRS-One.
KRS-One always contributes heavy-duty, battle-oriented lyrics to each of his releases. However, it’s worth noting that the Blastmaster doesn’t diss wack emcees just to emphasize his own skills. He kicks battle rhymes with a purpose, to educate the audience about the importance of leading by example and honing their craft as lyricists.
The best of this type of tracks are produced by DJ Premier. Preemo was also heavily involved in KRS’s first solo album, producing nearly half of the album. This time out, he tackles three tracks, making his mark with his chunky, neck-snapping beats. Preemo produces the album’s first single and best-known track, “MC’s Act Like They Don’t Know.” As Preemo freaks an ill piano sample, KRS takes aim at rappers who chase commercial success and chart position. “Too many emcees take that word ‘emcee’ lightly,” he scoffs. “They can't move a crowd, not even slightly.”
Preemo orchestrates two other bangers, the lead-off track “Rappers R. N. Dainja” and “Wannabemceez,” which both showcase some of his best production of the era and KRS’s verbal and stylistic superiority. The former, which served as the album’s second single, is one of the best songs on the release. Preemo uses his unparalleled production techniques to chop and reconstruct keyboard notes then seamlessly shift to blasts of horns. On the mic, KRS asserts that “in hip-hop's atomic structure, I am the nucleus,” and delivers a dissertation on valuing the art of emceeing over money and props. “Some rappers like to come to the party, hoping to leave with somebody, check” he boasts. “I come with skills and I leave with your motherfucking respect.”
KRS’s passion pulses through the speakers on “Build Ya Skillz,” a Diamond D produced gem featuring ad-libs and vocals from Busta Rhymes. KRS sounds as hungry as he was during his early days, challenging fake emcees to come correct over a grim bassline and occasional stabs of horns. He promises particularly brutal retribution throughout the song, promising that “Rappers get kicked in they mouth with cleats / ’Cause their speech refuses to reach beyond the beach.” Again, he eschews the bells and whistles that are associated with being a high-profile rap star in favor of the meat and potatoes approach. “Stacks of money for videos I don't have it,” he declares. “You’re looking at the last emcee with true talent.”
There are reams of rappers who have made careers explaining how “real” they are, but very do it as well as KRS does on “De Automatic.” I’d even hazard to say that KRS’s second verse on the track is better than many of these rappers’ discographies. The Blastmaster does so much more with less here, establishing his bona fides over a brief 12 bars. He raps, “When you was home with your mother, afraid of the dark / I was sleeping out in Prospect Park / Eating one meal every 48 hours / Writing dope rhyme styles that you now devour / Don’t you realize that I’m all about survival? / I got only friends ’cause I killed all my rivals.” The beat, created by engineer Big French, creeps along, creating a sense of eeriness though atmospheric keys and synthesizers.
On “R.E.A.L.I.T.Y.,” (as in, Rhymes Equal Actual Life in the Youth) KRS provides a ground-level view of life in neighborhoods like Milkbrooke Projects, where “the city’s a jungle, only the strong will survive.” KRS describes growing up in the crucible of poverty and despair, forging a path of escape by busting rhymes and house parties, park jams, and cyphers.
KRS later explains the importance of graffiti in his upbringing on the similarly sinister “Out For the Fame.” He recounts his late evening/early morning excursions to train and bus yards, armed with a backpack filled with spray cans, fat caps, rubbing alcohol, carbon paper, and blackboard erasers. He shouts out many graf legends and fellow rapper/producer graf artists, while reminiscing about throwing up pieces and getting chased by police. He further expounds on the art form’s relative purity, as “Graffiti isn't corporate, so it gets no respect / Hasn’t made a billion dollars for some corporation yet.”
KRS remained a politically active emcee during the mid-1990s, but with KRS-One, he seemed to have less patience for the bureaucracy that comes with non-profits and more willing to take it to streets. The stripped and militaristic “Ah Yeah” is focused on action. Originally released on the Pump Ya First! Compilation earlier that year, it appears here in a slightly remixed form, as KRS adds a piano sample. With his lyrics, he sounds even more passionate and righteously angry, advocating for the destruction of traditional government forces.
KRS is later joined by cohorts Channel Live on “Free Mumia,” a blistering broadside against the slew of misguided and wrong-headed activists working to silence rap, rather than focusing their energies on the issues that are really important to the Black community. C. Delores Tucker catches most of the brunt, as she had been particularly active in her crusade against Death Row Records. The trio launch nonstop fusillades at politicians who fail to understand the importance of hip-hop to youth culture, while ignoring the plight of the true victims of oppression.
KRS cautions about the perils of being addicted to “wants and needs” on “Hold.” KRS experiments a bit with his style on this deliberate, self-produced track, ending each line with the word “hold” or “hole/whole.” In terms of subject matter, the track is a cousin to “Love’s Gonna Get’cha (Material Love),” where the narrator digs himself into an inescapable metaphorical hole in the attempt to escape his own life’s circumstances. It’s an ambitious execution that doesn’t always land, but it’s interesting regardless.
The Diamond D produced “Squash All Beef” is one of the album’s best and most unique tracks. In the midst of a largely confrontational album, KRS delineates between braggadocio and life-threatening hostilities, encouraging his listeners to learn how to move past petty squabbles that can result in street violence. He flows over a sample of the Crusaders’ “Mystique Blues” as he raps, “I think you should think about the beef you got / And confront your enemy before it gets too hot / Never feel ashamed, to say, ‘Yo, G, I’m sorry. I apologize.’ / The object is to stay alive.” In the song’s final verse, he envisions a new world based on metaphysics and positive energy. Though working to “read each other’s magnetic fields” sounds a bit out there, not many emcees present a clear idea of their own utopia.
As “first cycles” go, KRS’s was stronger than most other emcees, and KRS-One is an apt ending to his beginning. The Teacher has been fortunate enough to have quite a few more cycles in the subsequent quarter century, some of which have been better than others. But in terms of powerful displays of pure skill and big ideas, this self-titled album shows a super-confident KRS firing on all cylinders, eager to take on all comers, and ready to change the world.
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