Happy 35th Anniversary to Kwamé’s debut album Kwamé the Boy Genius: Featuring a New Beginning, originally released January 31, 1989.
I’ve written before of how teenage talent carried the Golden Age of hip-hop. One of these young and occasionally overlooked phenoms is Kwamé Holland, who, after first dubbing himself Sweet Daddy Jazzy K GQ, shortened things to just Kwamé. The Queens-born emcee was one of the more dynamic artists to come to the forefront during the late 1980s. He rolled with the elusive super-producer Hurby “Luv Bug” Azor, with the two teaming up to record Kwamé the Boy Genius: Featuring a New Beginning, Kwamé’s debut, released 35 years ago.
Kwamé was the best lyricist to come out of Hurby Luv Bug’s extended camp of artists, which included Salt-N-Pepa, Kid ‘N Play, Dana Dane, and Sweet Tee. Kwamé fashioned himself as the lyrical child of Slick Rick and Kool G Rap. He could project laid-back charm, but still unleash a furious stream of lyrics, using varied, multi-faceted flows. He had a distinctive look in terms of fashion, which he would eventually become better known for than his other abundant talents.
It was Salt of Salt-N-Pepa who suggested Kwamé adopt the “Boy Genius” moniker, and it fit. Kwamé played the drums, trumpet, and piano, but as he explained on the Questlove Supreme podcast, he was only really interested in using them to replay parts of old school hip-hop tracks. He was also a skilled producer and knew his way around the MPC sampler, learning how to work the device from famed engineer/producer Paul C. Kwamé also said in Brian Coleman’s Check the Technique 2 that he was an early adopter using computers to create music, and frequently declared himself the first hip-hop nerd.
Kwamé maintains that he produced much of The Boy Genius on his own, even though the album’s liner notes credit Hurby Luv Bug and The Invincibles. Kwamé explained that since Hurby was so busy during the period when he was recording his album, he was left to build the tracks himself, with Azor present for the mix downs. The album features only 8 different tracks, but Kwamé disperses three verses each time out, which is pretty much unheard of 35 years later.
Even as Kwamé crafted his own distinctive look (the polka-dot shirts and the high-top fade with the blonde streak), Hurby Luv Bug further modified his on-record presentation. Kwamé has said that originally his delivery was more rugged, inspired by the aforementioned Kool G Rap. Azor worked on smoothing out many of the rough edges of Kwamé’s delivery, hoping to transform him into an emcee with broader appeal. Though Kwamé occasionally chafed at the direction, it proved successful, earning Kwamé commercial attention and critical acclaim.
Kwamé flexes his persona on the album-opening title track. He presents himself as a dedicated young innovator, banging away on his computer (or typewriter) during the small morning hours in attempts to “conduct the first rap symphony consisting of the slickest lyrics ever known to mankind.” Over both sampled and replayed elements of The Meters’ “Cardova,” he breaks down his rap philosophy, production approach, and spiritual leanings. As musical thesis statements go, it sets off the album on the right foot.
Listen to the Album:
Kwamé first surfaced on most people’s radar with “The Man We All Know And Love,” which he considers a parody song. The song channels the rhyming spirits of Slick Rick and Dana Dane, as Kwamé raps three tales about his pursuit of female affection, rocking to a sample of Rufus Thomas’ “The Funky Penguin.” The track gets more ribald as it progresses, and Kwamé has said earlier versions of the song were a lot filthier.
Each verse exists to build up to Kwamé’s singing, as he belts out goofy interpretations of Louis Jordan and His Tympany Five’s “Is You Is Or Is You Ain’t My Baby?”, Minnie Riperton’s “Loving You,” and the standard “Aba Dabba Honeymoon” (the latter two in an exaggerated falsetto). I always found it funny that he doesn’t even try to hit the high notes on “Loving You,” opting to whistle instead.
“The Rhythm,” the album’s best-known track and second single, is likely the best song Kwamé ever recorded. It represents a meshing of Kwamé and Hurby’s visions for what the emcee could be. It’s a great verbal display by Kwamé, as words and complex flows cascade into the mic. And he delivers everything with a silky smooth demeanor in an almost conversational manner, professing to be a “mellow cool brotha, slicker than oil / Rap get so hot it makes the spit boil.”
The dopeness of the track’s production equals the lyrical skills that Kwamé exhibits. In this case, he pairs keyboards from Bob James’ “Look Alike” with chopped portions of James Brown’s “Funky Drummer” and the Staple Singers’ “I’ll Take You there,” filling in the rest with a bassline that he played on a Fender Rhodes keyboard. Overall, “The Rhythm” is quietly one of the best songs spawned from the late 1980s era.
Kwamé has said that the single/video version of “U Gotz 2 Get Down” is the only song that Hurby produced in its entirety. Hurby transforms the hard-hitting track into ill-fitting Go-Go inspired cheese, which may have worked for Salt-N-Pepa and Kid ‘N Play, but was not a good sound for Kwamé. It’s a shame that most people associate the song with the video version, as the rendition that appears on the album is far superior, with Kwamé dropping rough rhymes over elements of Kool & the Gang’s “N.T.” “And why would any rapper dare to compare or even get with me?” he boasts, “Rhymes in your mind, like mental telepathy.”
The album’s second half features a trio of more aggressive material that serves Kwamé quite well. Songs like “The Mic Is Mine” and “Push the Panic Button” are more in this mold, with the Boy Genius tearing into each breakbeat-heavy track, flexing the much rawer delivery that he was eager to utilize. “Keep on Doin’ (What You Doin’)” is a high energy “remake” of the Bobby Byrd song of the same name. Though the re-singing of the original composition’s hook doesn’t work that well, Kwamé sounds sharp as he spits bars at rapid velocity. “G-Force will transmute me, sharp as a razor blade,” he raps. “Hands of razors slayed because they’re tailor-made.”
The album ends with “Sweet Thing,” the fourth single, and obligatory “love song on a late 1980s rap album.” I concede that “Sweet Thing” is better than most songs of this type. The producers do a decent job replaying the Rufus & Chaka Khan song of the same name, and Kwamé’s rhymes are not so syrupy as to be gag-inducing. I’m happy enough to say that it could have turned out MUCH worse.
Kwamé’s stylistic presence and sartorial choices have become his legacy. His following two albums were solid, but were consumed by tales of polkas dots and oddly spelled titles: lots of Zs and too many vowels. I do wish he was more widely remembered as a talented artist with knowledge and skills that seemed way beyond his years. Kwamé has done fine for himself over the past three-and-a-half decades, especially after being reborn as producer K-1 Mil, producing for rap and R&B artists throughout the 2000s and early 2010s. But when he represented hip-hop’s late 1980s youth movement, he showed that the genre’s future was bright.
Listen: