Baring roots, baring soul
K'Naan goes a capella at the Phoenix
By Livia Murray, Staff Writer
Issue date: 10/1/09 Section: Film & Music
"Can I interest you in a little a cappella?"
Midway through his concert, K'naan casually posed this question to the crowd assembled before him. There was a momentous roar, but the room fell silent as he began to sing "Somalia". The crowd just stood there, not hooting or hollering, but trying to take everything in.
K'naan's performance at the Phoenix on September 18th was everything one could hope for. The greatest qualities of K'naan's music- his raw and natural style- were all the more striking. The strongly expressive lyrics that we all know and love through his recorded music are one thing; to see him deliver them live was quite another.
K'naan has presence, but doesn't put on the gangsta swagger. What makes him fascinating is his sincerity and his conviction in what he is saying, to the point where you are hanging onto his every word. His personality matches his style: raw, natural and exceedingly real. Just as he doesn't glorify his hardships when he speaks, he doesn't glorify himself when he performs.
Though he fronted a five-part band of guitar, bass, keyboard, drums and djembes, K'naan sang a great deal of his songs without accompaniment. The rendition of "Somalia" that he sang for us, he explained, was the one he had originally written. It was certainly much darker than the Troubadour version, and this was the reason why he modified it for the album release. The chorus went something like "Somalia... now that you've learned to kill, you must learn to die." Though the recorded version is far from light-hearted, it still captures a glimmer of hope, which K'naan seems to hold onto even in the bleakest of situations. The original "Somalia", however, was devoid of this and sent shivers down my spine.
"Waving Flag" was a treat. K'naan performed half of it a cappella, and then the band kicked in. Everyone was swaying and singing along with arms in the air in adoration. To perform "Fatima", our little troubadour took out a stool from backstage and sat down with the microphone. He talked about the song a little and then sang it for us, with more emotion than you would expect considering the amount of times he must have performed it. He bowed his head at the end; he must still hold onto the memory.
Of course, nothing topped the Somali rapping in "America". Though intriguing because the lyrics themselves are a mystery, K'naan still manages to convey a meaning through his delivery. The body language expressed by his frantic movements somehow also translates, and in spite of the language barrier, a subtle inkling of an idea is communicated.
Witnessing K'naan was an interesting experience. His energy and personality added to the show so that seeing him perform was a more intense version of listening to his music. His style stands out and his ideas are striking in their sheer naked reality. He is a thing of his own, and the show was a great moment to take in his musical wisdom.
Midway through his concert, K'naan casually posed this question to the crowd assembled before him. There was a momentous roar, but the room fell silent as he began to sing "Somalia". The crowd just stood there, not hooting or hollering, but trying to take everything in.
K'naan's performance at the Phoenix on September 18th was everything one could hope for. The greatest qualities of K'naan's music- his raw and natural style- were all the more striking. The strongly expressive lyrics that we all know and love through his recorded music are one thing; to see him deliver them live was quite another.
K'naan has presence, but doesn't put on the gangsta swagger. What makes him fascinating is his sincerity and his conviction in what he is saying, to the point where you are hanging onto his every word. His personality matches his style: raw, natural and exceedingly real. Just as he doesn't glorify his hardships when he speaks, he doesn't glorify himself when he performs.
Though he fronted a five-part band of guitar, bass, keyboard, drums and djembes, K'naan sang a great deal of his songs without accompaniment. The rendition of "Somalia" that he sang for us, he explained, was the one he had originally written. It was certainly much darker than the Troubadour version, and this was the reason why he modified it for the album release. The chorus went something like "Somalia... now that you've learned to kill, you must learn to die." Though the recorded version is far from light-hearted, it still captures a glimmer of hope, which K'naan seems to hold onto even in the bleakest of situations. The original "Somalia", however, was devoid of this and sent shivers down my spine.
"Waving Flag" was a treat. K'naan performed half of it a cappella, and then the band kicked in. Everyone was swaying and singing along with arms in the air in adoration. To perform "Fatima", our little troubadour took out a stool from backstage and sat down with the microphone. He talked about the song a little and then sang it for us, with more emotion than you would expect considering the amount of times he must have performed it. He bowed his head at the end; he must still hold onto the memory.
Of course, nothing topped the Somali rapping in "America". Though intriguing because the lyrics themselves are a mystery, K'naan still manages to convey a meaning through his delivery. The body language expressed by his frantic movements somehow also translates, and in spite of the language barrier, a subtle inkling of an idea is communicated.
Witnessing K'naan was an interesting experience. His energy and personality added to the show so that seeing him perform was a more intense version of listening to his music. His style stands out and his ideas are striking in their sheer naked reality. He is a thing of his own, and the show was a great moment to take in his musical wisdom.
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