But the main problem is the Mississippian’s crutch on reincarnating the past. It’s no wonder that K.R.I.T. stands for a “King Remembered in Time,” which, in this case, could almost be taken literally. From a technical standpoint, K.R.I.T. is an exceptional rapper, channeling the socio-political fodder of Goodie Mob, the charismatic gusto of Pimp C and the Southern p-funk of Big Boi circa Speakerboxxx. Production-wise, K.R.I.T. follows in the vein of hip-hop purists preferring the 808 boom-baps and Southern rap sub-woof crushers of UGK and Organized Noize. From his debut mixtape, K.R.I.T. Wuz Here, to his most recent mixtape It’s Better This Way, both could be heard quivering in the woofer booms of someone’s run-down Cadillac.
In short, Big K.R.I.T. makes good hip-hop records. But in the age of buzz-worthy clickbait, blog-rap phenomenon à la Young Thug and Chief Keef, and maximalists Kanye West and Travis Scott, being good just isn’t really good enough anymore. At this
Back in 2010, on K.R.I.T. Wuz Here, he
“If you’re looking for some original soul, I know where you should go.”
So what he lacks in innovation, he makes up for in consistency. Since his burgeoning, hyped years of 2009-10, K.R.I.T. has managed to release a continual body of work yearly that focuses on the album entirely. Rather than functioning on the modus operandi of modern rappers — where Rae Sremmurd and Young Thug fly on the coattails of contagious singles like “No Flex Zone” or “Lifestyle” — K.R.I.T. has received recognition through his lengthy catalog of mixtapes.
There’s a reason why he says, “I apologize if I’m oh-so-old-fashioned” on “Third Eye” in Cadillactica: a testament to not only his nostalgic-leaning production but also
K.R.I.T. likes soul, not only sonically but also lyrically. It’s Better This Way and Cadillactica
Lyrically, K.R.I.T. channels the African-American griot, where his albums take hackneyed anecdotes and expand them into earnest and juxtaposing tales: where there was “grandma’s hands ushering Sunday mornings,” there were also kids “emerged from dirt” as they “dash, sprint, hurdle over those steel gates” to escape the police. In his most personal moments like the hazy apocalyptic “Angels,” and the southern zeal “King Pt. 4,” he draws on communal and intimate experiences that make him one of
Whether K.R.I.T.’s stubborn steadfastness in the fickle face of change will stunt his growth as an artist still remains uncertain. And honestly, he’s sort of like the Spurs. He may not be the most inventive or gaudy player in