In arcade, rapper KRS-One still has game

Spencer Patterson

Monday, Sept. 19, 2005 | 8:13 a.m.

Would you ever expect to see Paul McCartney perform in a converted video arcade, to a crowd of barely 200?

Or how about Stevie Wonder? Or B.B. King? Or maybe Willie Nelson?

Of course, such questions are purely rhetorical, with the answer to each an emphatic no.

Yet on Saturday, who strode to the downstairs stage at Jillian's than KRS-One, a rapper arguably as important to the development of hip-hop as those other living legends were to their respective musical genres.

In an era when hip-hop dominates pop charts, airwaves and Las Vegas' nightclub scene, its founding fathers remain shamefully underappreciated by the public.

KRS-One (aka 40-year-old New Yorker Kris Parker) was one of the key figures during hip-hop's formative years, performing with Boogie Down Productions in the 1980s and as a solo artist since the early '90s.

Known as The Teacher for his penetrating, politically and socially charged lyrics, KRS-One is widely considered one of rap's all-time great MCs, a tribute to his powerful delivery and ambitious rhyme schemes.

Serious fans fully aware of those credentials turned out Saturday and made their presence felt, rushing toward the stage as the imposing rapper arrived around 9:30 p.m. after sets by local acts Poly Hylo, Verbal Ase and Isaac Sawyer.

Although many headliners doubtlessly would have been put off by the strange surroundings -- electronic dartboards and simulated NFL games glowed in the darkness nearby -- and by the relatively sparse audience, KRS-One demonstrated no such letdown.

Instead he dove viciously into his catalog, pointing at a speaker and yelling "Turn it Up!" until the booming, bass-driven sound met with his approval.

From early BDP classics "South Bronx" and "Stop the Violence" to solo cuts "Outta Here" and "Sound of da Police," the material possessed a classic, old-school flavor.

Backed only by his DJ's relatively spare beats and two MC pals, KRS-One was easily heard and understood throughout, to the delight of the 20-somethings near the stage bouncing in place and waving their arms.

The black-clad rapper showed off the freestyle skills that made him a battle legend during his early days in the Bronx, and treated the room to a history lesson by mixing lyrics from other well-known hip-hop acts into a fast-seguing medley.

KRS-One even descended to the floor, performing amid his appreciative fans, with nary a bodyguard to watch his back.

He needn't have worried. His supporters respectfully carved out a circle for him, and gave him the space to continue unmolested.

Sound could have been better, but was far from awful considering the relatively makeshift setup.

Otherwise, the duration of the closing set -- a far-too-slight 50 minutes -- was the only significant negative.

Not that KRS-One was ungenerous with his time. After the show, he sat down in the Jillian's lobby to sign autographs for the proud few who turned out to appreciate true hip-hop nobility.