#51: KRS-One — Return of the Boom Bap (1993)
New York, NY — Jive Records
Happy new year you filthy fucking animals! To start out 2024 in the right foot, we have what’s maybe the most illustrious album from one of the most illustrious rappers of all times, the Bronx’s own Lawrence “Kris” Parker, better known as KRS-One. Now, he’s a face we’ve seen before, in the distant year of 2022, when his first album with the Boogie Down Productions trio, Criminal Minded, was the seventh review on this series. Return is technically his first solo album, though one could argue every Boogie Down album is kind of a solo KRS album, since he’s the only MC and main producer in all of them — which would make this his sixth album! Now, Criminal Minded, while perfectly appreciable and definitely a very solid entry into the hip-hop hall of fame, just didn’t quite do it for me. I was perfectly able to appreciate the genius and skill displayed, and of course the historical importance of such an artifact. It’s just that it’s really not the type of thing I usually gravitate toward, and I did have my share of nitpicks about it. How does Kris’ performance shape up after six years of constant evolution since his first effort, though?
I will not, of course, be giving the answer to that just now. Instead, I will go into a long rant about my opinions on the production, performance, technicalities and discourse present here, as I do, and only then give you my final thoughts & favorite tracks out of it. Or not. Anyways, I first want to talk about something that is one of KRS’s biggest trademarks: his heavy-handed political consciousness, which he so heavily sprinkles all throughout his music. Criminal is one of his least political albums as far as I’m aware, and even then it stood out during its time; Return does not feature social critique in every single track, as some of his other projects do, but even then it’s pretty heavy-handed on the social commentary front. One thing that sets him apart from a lot of other so-called conscious rappers is how actually knowledgeable he is, which works wonders toward his discourse being considerably more interesting and profound than your run-of-the-mill Black Panther wannabe — much like San Francisco prodigy Paris or Public Enemy’s Chuck D, this dude studies his shit, and that can be seen in many a track of his; notoriously so in Sound Of Da Police:
Yeah, officer from overseer
You need a little clarity? Check the similarity!
The overseer rode around the plantation
The officer is off, patrollin’ all the nation
The overseer could stop you, “What you’re doing?”
The officer will pull you over just when he’s pursuing
The overseer had the right to get ill
And if you fought back, the overseer had the right to kill
The officer has the right to arrest
And if you fight back they put a hole in your chest
(Woop!) They both ride horses
After 400 years, I’ve got no choices
His rhetorics are clearly in line with that old Afrika Bambaataa thing about edutainment, the practice of combining politically conscious education with fun and games, of the type that naturally speak to and attract people from the disenfranchised urban ghettos where rap thrives. Even though he might appear somewhat over-enthusiastic about his politics, which to be fair he often is, KRS’s understanding of contemporary politics and culture is very clearly a step above your average rapper. It reminds me of a chapter from one of my favorite books on the topic, the Cambridge Companion to Hip-Hop:
I think he sees all sides of the issue, and understands that contradiction is inherent to the culture and should be accepted and analyzed instead of denied — quoting my previous BDP review: “instead of seeing himself as a “king” of hip-hop like Run-DMC did, for instance, he rather assumes the persona of a maintainer and teacher of hip-hop wisdom and history, a member of a lineage of minds and artists from before his time, such as Kool Herc and Afrika Bambaataa — not like it makes him less gloaty and egotrippy, though”. Again, he might be a bit over-enthusiastic about it from time to time, not to say moralistic and almost puritannical when it comes to the preservation of so-called hip-hop culture, but he’s backed up not just by his knowledge, but also his swag.
Is it time to talk about his rapping skillz? Why yes, I think it might be. See, I don’t think anyone will doubt KRS’s ability when it comes to technical rapping in all of its forms — rhyming, flowing, narrating, etc — and this album has its fair share of such demonstrations. One thing in particular that stood out for me is how effortless and spontaneous his lyrical flexing is: even when it comes to rhyme geniuses such as, say, Rakim or Kane, there are many moments when it’s just obvious that they’re making a directed effort towards cramming as much internals and multisyllabics in there for their sake alone, which isn’t necessarily a bad thing but can easily become a little too much at times. Now, KRS doesn’t quite reach the absolute lyrical heights as our aforementioned friends, but he makes up for it by rapping in a much more natural-sounding way, organic even, with little to no moments that sound deliberately flexy — certainly much due to his positive enthusiasm and energy, something his virtuosistic compatriots seldom possess to such a level. The Jamaican influence he already displayed in earlier works is even more present here, with full songs rapped in half-patois at times, with prominently dancehall-ish beats and choruses.
It is, however, a very uneven record when it comes to lyrical complexity and impressiveness. Sometimes you just get like a couple or so songs that are just… I don’t know, underwhelming somewhat? They’re not terrible by any means, as I doubt our friend could ever stoop so low, but they’re definitely sort of disappointing, especially when they’re immediately followed by a veritable tour de force on effortless rhymatical destruction — the Outta Here/Black Cop/Mortal Thought sequence immediately comes to mind. Sometimes, as is the case of Black Cop for example, he seems to be too preoccupied with sounding jamaican to do anything above the bare minimum. The decidedly bad beat wraps up the whole thing into a decidedly underwhelming package, which only gets more jarring when it’s followed by Mortal Thought, a DJ Premier-produced joint which also features some of K’s best rhymes on this joint.
Finally, I think we can move on to the production. As implied in the previous paragraph, DJ Premier of Gang Starr fame is heavily involved in this album’s production, bearing his signature on six out of the fourteen tracks out of Return — five are by KRS himself, with the remaining ones going to Norty Cotto, Kid Capri and our old friend Showbiz. Preemo’s beats are obviously outstanding, honestly some of his best stuff we’ve seen so far, and Show in particular does not lag behind, but unfortunately the same cannot be said for K’s beats because good lord do they mostly suck. It seems like he’s still firmly in that mid-to-late-80s mindset of “muddy bassline + excessively loud drumbreak = enough” because that’s what most of his beats consist of, but that’s definitely not enough (shouts out to Uh Oh though, an entirely beatboxed track, which doesn’t really work in the long run but I still liked it somehow). Some songs are straight up spoiled by a dogshit beat, such as Mad Crew, and some are just an unexplicable, dishonorable display in their entirety, such as the title track, which, between terrible, obnoxious beat and puerile, low-effort rhyming, is basically unsalvageable from start to end. You can’t help but constantly wonder how better this whole affair would have been had K only stepped back and let the grown-ups do their thing.
That, I think, kinda summarizes how I ultimately feel about Return of the Boom Bap. KRS-One’s technical and poetical expertise are obvious and undeniable, and so is his contagious enthusiasm, which do a great deal of carrying this whole affair. Such energy, however, seems somewhat misdirected and badly managed, making for a compelling but ultimately underwhelming experience. It’s not hard to imagine a version of this album that is not very different from its official incarnation but also leagues better with but a few adjustments, but as it stands it delivers much less than it could. Don’t get me wrong, KRS still shines plenty bright when he’s locked in, but knowing what he’s capable of at his best only makes his worst even worse. Definitely something important for me to jam and understand the trajectory of one of hip-hop’s biggest names to date, but I don’t think I’ll be coming back to this, except for the couple or so tracks I genuinely liked, any time soon.
Favorite tracks
Mortal Thought: KRS presents us with a different flavor of bragaddocio — more lighthearted, complex even, with a strong hint of self-referential humor, which is something I definitely appreciate when done right. Throw all that on top of a deliciously whimsical Preemo beat and you got a recipe for success. “Are you tired of lyrical liars, passing fliers/ Wannabe emcees, but really good triers/ Tripping over mic cords, getting you bored?/ A total fraud, this kind of thing I can’t afford, so I/ Pick up the mic and kill it, ill it, top bill it/ The club is a skillet where emcees get fried in it”.
I Can’t Wake Up: from the Genius page for this track: “The story-frame here is that Kris is having a nightmare where he has become the blunt being passed around. This personification of the blunt allows him to turn the vibe upside down, with the final product being a fantastic black comedy, as well as a nod to all the weed-enthusiast rappers who would appreciate this humor”. Lol what can I say? It’s just as amazing as it says on the tin, with some frankly deranged and very satisfying lyrics, wisecracks and shoutouts to fellow rappers, complete with a hyped-up, strangely alluring, almost Muggs-esque beat. Definitely an all-timer. “I’m tryin’ to wake up, I can’t wake up/ So I run and jump, someone yelled, “Get that blunt!”/ Get that blunt, now I’m thinking this is major/ I’ve got a bunch of people chasin’ me with a razor?!/ I don’t like this dream as a blunt/ But I can’t get out of it and I can’t seem to wake up/ So I’m runnin’ and racin’, blunt smokers are chasin’/ This is insane, I’m caught by House of Pain/ I’m picked up, they said they gonna put my head out/ They slit my back and all the tobacco fell out/ Now I’m hollowed wet thin and yes ready/ They poured the shumpang gently and re-wet me/ I’m in the mouth yo, I can’t wake up/ Yo I’m a blunt gettin’ smoked and I can’t wake up”.
Higher Level: sitting at the last spot on this motherfucker is what is probably my single favorite one out of this joint. DJ Premier’s beat obviously evaporates infinite asses: it’s mellow, soulful, complex and straight-up at the same time, much like KRS-One’s rapping: sincere, wholesome, conscious lyrics with just enough self-evident technical flexing, political reflection and reminiscing of the good old times. It almost makes me mad to see a song this good, cause why the fuck aren’t there more like this? “Yo, get with me, I deal with reality/ Loosen your mind to the truth and don’t get mad at me/ No politician can give you peace/ If you trust Jesus, why do you vote for a beast?/ Emancipation is long overdue/ So it become procrastination ’cause freedom is within you/ For some reason, we think we’re free/ So we’ll never be, because we haven’t recognized slavery”.
