Words: Felipe Delerme
Photo: Dennis McGrath
These days, many hip hop traditionalists look to the East with faith that the music’s hope lies solely in an eventual New York resurgence. As comforting as this return to familiarity may be, the revival may be something altogether different. Comprised of brothers Krispy Kream, 24, and Rah Almillio, 23, the Knux, once known as the Knuckleheads, are a breath of fresh air in a climate real thick with gangsta bravado and “look-what-I-can-do” dance anthems. They are the alternative—as long as being alternative doesn’t alienate them from hip hop. “I don’t consider it alternative, but everybody else does,” says Almillio. “But that’s the state of hip hop…that what we do has to be [labeled] alternative. What’s different about what we’re doing compared to Tribe or Souls of Mischief or the Pharcyde or the Fugees?”
The most telling factor would be the musicianship. Having played in marching, jazz, and concert bands since adolescence, the siblings have musical training far and beyond your average beatsmith. “When you hear guitars and stuff in our music…we played that shit,” Krispy boasts. But even as classically trained musicians, they’d long been exposed to rapping as their mother played hip hop records right along side the jazz, funk, and soul records that epitomize parental collections.
Originally signed to Mathew Knowles’ Music World label, a migration to Houston seemed imminent, but after Katrina came and took their Louisiana home, they fast-forwarded to H-town, where making music provided a much needed escape from the Katrina aftermath. Soon, they were contacted by a Goliath Management A&R who patiently waited out their previous contract, eventually signing them to a deal for their very own imprint, Chic Freak Records. A fitting moniker in that the Knux music takes elements from sounds as diverse as UK Garage to the bounce music of their native New Orleans.
Fans just as much as artists, the Knux find it easy to identify the problems in the music they love. “Niggas are either over the top gangsta or they just rapping about rap,” Krispy laments. “We not rapping about rap. I’m tryna change a muthafucka’s life.” Kanye-isms aside, they can find themselves more invested than most. “Hip hop dudes are not vulnerable,” he continues. “I’m tryna be vulnerable. Everyone is like Superman now. These niggas don’t have a bad day in their rhymes, ever!” Though frustrated with the state of the union, the two stay constructive as they work on their debut album in LA. “We do this shit ’cause it’s fun. It’s a job, but this shit is fun as hell. Who gets to wake up at 3 o’clock and just do music?” proclaims Krispy. “Fuck what all these other niggas is saying. If it was about money for me, then I could just do beats, get money like that…I mean, maybe it’s because I’m young, but really this shit is just fun.” And after all, that may be just what the music is missing—a little fun.
