Why is it that, after eight years of touring and recording, the best hip-hop act I’ve ever seen is still flying so far beneath the radar? The Crown City Rockers played the House of Blues in Hollywood last week, opening for New Orleans funk-fusion masters Galactic, and not only were there less than 70 people or so on the floor, every last one of them was white.

By association, it seems, this kind of music- the backpacker genre, if it can still be called that- isn’t nearly as cool to be into as the repetitive autotune-soaked bullshit that acts have been piggybacking and riding the lowest lyrical common denominator (bitches and money) for every last cent. Hell, FM radio eats it right up. I know I’m not alone in believing that nobody in hell should know who 50 Cent is, much less have to deal with him trying to use his staggering success to hock movies, shoes, sports drinks and other such nonsense that has nothing to do with music. Sure, white culture mimicks black culture with a three or four year delay (I’m starting to hear the f’shizzles again), but does black culture then, by default, shoot itself in the foot by abandoning a magnificent art form?

While rappers running out of things to say are still telling anyone who’ll listen that “hip-hop is dead,” Giant Panda’s busy bringing living proof to the fact that nothing could be further than the truth. As part of a new revival of socially-conscious rhymes that don’t have anything to do with guns, bitches and bling, Giant Panda (Alex Newman, Jamaan “Maanumental” McLaren and Chikara “Chicaramanga” Kurahashi) sets a bold example for others to follow in the world of hip-hop, through total commitment to vibe and flow- not some masturbatory self-promotional rhyme laid over an uptempo club beat.

After releasing their instant-classic debut Fly School Reunion in 2005, Kado and Superbrush moved on to other projects, thinning the group to the trio it is today. The album was adored by critics and fans alike, emboldening Giant Panda to step up their sample-heavy sound even further for their tremendous sophomore album, Electric Laser, released in May. Despite splitting down to three members, Electric Laser is evidence that the flow has been anything but compromised; the group’s ability to feed off one another has only been honed over time.

We caught up with Newman recently to discuss the new album, how he became an MC, and why you shouldn’t be afraid to write bad songs.

Raashan Ahmad, Crown City Rockers‘ resident MC, is ready to unleash his first full-length solo effort upon the world. It’s called The Push, it hits stores May 20th, and it’s a breath of fresh air in a musical climate plagued by an epidemic of success by piggy-backing and repetition. Raashan’s role in the living-legend, funk/soul/hip-hop group has clearly helped prepare the B-Boy for a confident first step out on his own. We discussed The Push with Raashan back in March, and he was kind enough to show his appreciation by hooking us up with the album before it hits stores.

Read on for our review.

I don’t know about you, but I’m sick of shitty hip-hop. The devolving trends of recycled misogyny and cartoonish, ridiculous materialism in hip-hop that fuel a crumbling industry have kept me from doing anything more than ride the ’seek’ button through the radio waves for years. There is a nearly-untapped world of quality hip-hop in the “underground” scene, a place where assertive, socially conscious rhymes meet diverse musical influence. It’s a place that deserves a hell of a lot more attention than it gets.
Crown City Rockers are among the best and brightest of today’s hip-hop scene, bringing a melting pot of soul, funk-laced grooves and old-school inflected rhymes to the table. 5 Gold Stars, their follow up to 2004’s Earthtones, is due to hit later this year. We caught up with Crown City MC Raashan Ahmad to discuss Crown City, his solo project The Push (out May 20th), and the inconvenience of revolution.