K’naan hasn’t released an album in thirteen years, and that’s only if we’re counting 2012’s mediocre Country, God or the Girl. But the Somalian-Canadian MC’s first two albums, The Dusty Foot Philosopher and Troubadour, had the potential to take mainstream hip-hop into thrilling, borderless territory. K’naan’s art has an emotional center: his experience of fleeing war-torn early 1990s Somalia for North America, and his consequent urge to put Al Capone poseurs in their place. Sometimes he does this directly (“I walk rappers through the killa hoods any day/They never been opposite real goons anyway”), but he’s far more effective, and original, when he pens stories that are somehow both universal and strongly evocative of place, his place, his homes. No track does this more powerfully than “Fatima,” a lament about a first love taken away by soldiers. The universal experience is of lost love; the particular horror is of children caught in war. Overall, however, the album is admittedly uneven. K’naan stumbles when he strays from his own voice, which happens most obviously when guest stars come on board. Surely Kirk Hammett and Adam Levine were unnecessary. Still, Troubadour is worth keeping near. There will be times when only this angle of the world will do. 7 ↑ ↓
K’naan. Troubadour. A&M/Octone, 1999. Reviewed June 6, 2025. Notable tracks: “Fatima,” “Wavin’ Flag,” “Fire in Freetown,” “People Like Me.”
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