K'Naan Warsame

My poetry fails to be discreet," K'Naan says. That isn't a problem unless you're some Somali militia type more concerned with murder than order, some politician more interested in mouthing off than helping or an American rapper more concerned with bling than injustice.

They're the targets of this rapper, who figures it's time we heard from someone who grew up on streets a little meaner than South Central LA, and with aspirations other than owning a fashion label and a butler.

K'Naan Warsame spent the first half of his life in Mogadishu, in a suburb of the Somali capital known as "the river of blood". The second half has been spent in Toronto, Canada, but it is Somalia in particular and Africa in general that dominates his rhymes.

In Soobax, the first Australian single from his debut album The Dusty Foot Philosopher, he calls out the gunman of Somalia. In My Old Home, he describes the contrast between people of dignity he saw around him and a corrupt ruling clique where "rapists are praised [and] demons dress well".

And in the quietly challenging What's Hardcore, he compares the dusty murderous streets of his upbringing with the comfortable American lifestyle of the so-called tough hip-hop stars and asks, "So what's hardcore?"

As the African-and-pop inflected tunes on his album reveal, he won't slam your face to get the message across. It's all about "texture", he says. As he points out in What's Hardcore, some rappers are too busy beating their chests to open their hearts.

"And often, if not always, opening your heart is the more courageous thing," K'Naan says. "And it's also more effective, see. I am definitely no Gandhi in my music but I don't like to force my way into people's hearts."

Why did he choose hip-hop rather than the music he grew up with as his vehicle?

"The music around me did connect with me," he says.

"But I felt like there were things going on in hip-hop that meant you could say things that you really couldn't sing.

"There were conditions that you could speak about, protest about, that you couldn't really sweeten by singing."

What could K'Naan say with hip-hop that he couldn't with Somali music?

"It's almost like the difference between talking and explaining something calmly and softly and maybe aggressively yelling something out from the heart.

"It's the difference between [he says softly], 'I don't like that' and [he shouts forcefully] 'That's enough!', and hip-hop was doing, 'That's enough.'"

Saying "that's enough" to the gunmen or the bling men isn't going to make K'Naan popular with them - or those who control the airwaves and the magazine covers.

"I know, I know. I feel like I'm part of the population, you know, rather than the privileged community. I share the concerns of the general person who is tired of these things but may not necessarily have the voice to say it. I figure if I may be able to steal a moment and hold the attention on the airwaves for just a second I'm going to say what needs to be said, even if they throw me off."

It seems such a waste to have access to the airwaves and the public and then have nothing to say except, "I want to be rich."

He laughs.

"But it's fascinating that someone is actually standing there and doing that for such a long time. Maybe I haven't lost my innocence but I'm always shocked when I see that happening.

"The other big problem with it is that it poses to represent the community. That's why people in government around the world think that hip-hop is joke music, that we speak in only these gimmicky terms and want to be rich and that is really the ambition of the black population."

K'Naan & Xavier Rudd
Tuesday, 6.30pm, Penrith RSL, 4731 4333, $30.

Wednesday, 7pm, Harbord Diggers, 9938 1444, $33.

Thursday, 8pm, Castle Hill RSL, 8858 4838, $30.

Also, Enmore Theatre, February 3.