Why I Love k-os, the Toronto Rapper
Memories from the first song I remember hearing
When I was in the womb, according to my madre, I responded well to classical music while in the car. It could be any classical music. Bach, Mozart, “The Short Tempered Clavier”. But when it came to rock, roll, or electronic music, her stomach turned.
Almost like my music taste was predetermined, drawn to a distinct set of sounds. But that couldn’t be the case.
Toddler Alexander took a lot of naps in the cold basement, listening to the hum of the old “white-tower” computer, and listening to some music to drift me off.
My dad would perform as basement DJ for my sister and I whenever it was time for a nap. But no lullabies for us; Gezhung solos and Greek Orthodox chanting, Italian seranades and operatic stories, Bob Marley and Elvis Presley; these were the songs of my early childhood.
For whatever reason, my father turned out to be a very globalized man, or at least very open to other cultures. He was a frequent purveyor of Chinese medicinal literature. He enjoyed trying new foods, and getting us to try them to. My Dad was curious about the world around him.
This is not to say there was no fun. No, lots of fun. Dad played one of my favourite songs when I was 2, sitting in my high-chair: Mambo Number 5.
But hanging with my mom, the car radio was king. I think I must have listened to Evanescence’s Fallen so many times that the lyrics have been permenantly etched into my mind. To be honest, I could probably recite it all on command while painting that haunting, ghostly CD cover from memory.
Other favourites of hers included: the Clash, Sex Pistols, and Nine Inch Nails. My Mom had a distinct taste, and knew what it was; an edgeyness was there that was passed on to me, something my taste in music would capitalize on later.
A particular song she would play was Cherry Beach Express by Puka Orchestra, a jam about the urban legends of police brutality down at Cherry Beach in Toronto (a brutality not so urban legend anymore). This was cool, because it was from a city so close to us, and one in which my mom grew up. Toronto and its music would be a important part of my life, more than I realized.
That car radio was a tool to guide us into new worlds of music, a compass to navigate through an ocean of different sounds on our journeys across Ontario.
Meanwhile, in the early 2000s, the rapper k-os was on the rise in Toronto, releasing 2 stellar albums in first half of the 2000s: Joyful Rebellion, and Atlantis: Hymns for Disco. Born in Trinidad, raised in Toronto (Whitby), a powerful voice for artistic integrity, son of a preacher, Bob-Marley inspired, and overall a fantastic artist. Really, one of the best rappers to come out of the Toronto scene, ever.
A day like many an other. We were passing the main roads, familiar in that I had travelled them so many times, and would travel them again. Things were routine in a small town. And really, nothing else of note happened that day, only that I heard this song, really listened to it. My first real song experience, ever.
The clapping drew me in first. And before I knew it, I was singing along with every “Lets go!”. And I was transported deep into my imagination, getting lost in it all and relishing the sonic experience.
Groovy piano keys that felt like they belonged in a disco, the upbeat clapping and adlibs that made the song feel like a party, the slick guitar solo and futuristic synths that sounded science-fiction-y (I was watching a lot of Star Wars at the time). I had never heard anything like it.
With my cousins, we would sing along to “Are you gonna be my girl” (Jet), “The Middle” (Jimmy Eat World), “Semicharmed Life” (Third Eye Blind) and “Sink to the Bottom With You” (Fountains of Wayne) — our own joyful rebellion from a group of Italian-Canadian kids sneaking around their Nona’s pantry to listen to these punk-hard rock classics. This was a different type of chaos.
While lacking a punkish atmosphere and aesthetic that I found with my cousins music taste, “Sunday Morning” still had that similar melancholy. There was something sad about the song, but also something happy. A vibe caught in between the two extremes, like k-os is caught between his desires, the night, and the day.
I’m just afraid to be here all alone
This is not me
Where is my revolution?
And the lyrics were great. Apparently, I frequently tried to sing along, only to stumble along these lyrics,
“I know that I can learn / You might be the greatest thing I’ve ever seen / All I know is music / All I’ve ever known”,
But I related to the lyrics and his message in some ways. All I knew was music, or how good it could make me feel. I knew I could learn, at least in school. I had crushes at that young age, or at least I thought some girls were really cool. All basic understandings that I applied to what I heard. And if that isn’t the power of music, able to cross not only national boundaries but human experience no matter a persons age, than I don’t know what is.
A limbo- trapping us in a Saturday night party, like Netflix’s Russian Doll, and we were all just trying to get through and wake up on Sunday morning. It was a concept that prodded my imagination; who wouldn’t want to live forever? Awesome cartoons, some junk food and video games, and no school the next day? But it also took me to another world. A science-fiction one. I always imagined the people screaming ‘lets go!’ were the chorus scoring a man’s struggle through a labrynth of neon lights, dancing people, and claustrophobia.
I felt like the song was mine, a key to unlock my imagination that I was just discovering. To this day, music remains that same key to that inner world.
These days, k-os remains one of my favourite rappers, whether its his unique sounds and beats, or the funky flows he brings with his lyricism. Crabbuckit, Flypaper, Ballad of Noah, Commandante, and Neutronics; all classics of Toronto hip-hop, worth all the praise.
After I got my I-Pod, things changed — digital brought any music I could ever want to my ears immediately. Radio was dying. But Sunday Morning remained my favourite song for a good long while.
I am forever grateful for that car radio, with its ability to tune into both the Top 40 and CD player for my mom’s favourite hits. And for that basement computer, with its basic internet connection and CD player for my dad’s slow jam, allowed my sister and I to experience music in a variety of forms. It curated our taste of curiosity, helped us experience different sounds. Having that was awesome, and I can’t wait to share my digital music library with my own kids one day.
Of course, I am very grateful for k-os, and his ability to get me to really listen and hear a song for the first time. To access parts of myself that I would not have been able to without “Sunday Morning”. And, of course, for his sacrifice and eternal damnation to live Saturday Night Forever.
