Ready for the Majors

There’s nothing Common about Lonnie Rashid Lynn, even if that’s the moniker the Chicago rapper has adopted. For eight years, Lynn has been one of the most acclaimed figures in hip-hop, a rapper with an insightful, socially conscious message.

The Source magazine has called him “Chicago’s lyrical warrior,” while Rap Pages said he is “notches above dope.” He’s collaborated with such respected figures as Lauryn Hill and D’Angelo, and his upcoming album is one of the most anticipated hip-hop releases in months.

But so far, Common hasn’t enjoyed the massive sales and high media profile that those credentials should earn--primarily because his albums have been on a minor label rather one of the rap powerhouses. That changes March 28 with the release of his first album on MCA Records. The collection, “Like Water for Chocolate,” is likely to bring him the wider forum he has long deserved. “The 6th Sense,” the first single from the album, attempts to reach both the hard-core hip-hop audience (it has driving drums) and listeners familiar with his topic-driven songs (with its clever, uplifting lyrics).

Indeed, Common already has the aura of a star. His wardrobe--silver rings and bracelets, hippie-era paisley shirt--reaches beyond the rap staples of T-shirts, jeans and chains. And where many rappers scowl, he smiles.

But don’t mistake the good-natured vibe for indifference. His music isn’t as relentlessly political as that of such revolutionary rap acts as Public Enemy and Boogie Down Productions, but he does stand with OutKast, Goodie Mob and the Roots as hip-hop’s modern-day social critics.

“Common brings purity to hip-hop,” says the RZA, the Wu-Tang Clan member who is one of hip-hop’s best producers. “He sticks to his heart, not his pockets. A lot of these rappers are into money and the butt cheeks. He does a lot of things from his heart.”

The 16 soul-searching songs on the new album aren’t preachy. Common deals with a variety of themes--from pimping to love, from petty revenge to lofty idealism--in ways that are at once biting, accessible and sometimes humorous.

“I believe in balance,” the 27-year-old rapper says during an interview in a Santa Monica office. “If you’re going to educate people, you’ve got to entertain them too. It isn’t like you’ve got to beat them over the head with, ‘Yo, we’ve got to elevate.’ That’s not enjoyable.”

Common and his producers refrained from sampling previous hits and relying on tried-and-true subject matter on the album, choosing innovation over imitation.

“I definitely feel that rap is plagued and hurt because of a lack of imagination,” Common says. “Once we got to the ‘real’ stage, everybody became so literal and had to be so true-to-life that we forgot about the fun, imaginative stories that Slick Rick, N.W.A, Too $hort, Snoop [Dogg], Rakim and Schoolly D used to tell.

“Rapping about the same thing is boring to me. I’m able to take chances because I don’t have any artistic fears. I know that whatever avenue I pursue, I’m going to make it as good as I can. I like being an individual and standing out in this game, not only to say that I’m ‘Mr. Original,’ but because I want to mean something, contribute something to hip-hop.”

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Common is an easygoing person who laughs easily. But he’s as willing to discuss serious subject matter as the shortcomings of the Chicago Bulls.

Born on the South Side of Chicago, Common was raised by his mother, stepfather and grandmother in a black, middle-class area where gangs were prominent. He describes himself as a loving kid who was too sensitive at times. If he had something, he wanted his friends to have it too.

His mother was a teacher, which may help explain his early affinity for school. Writing book reports focused some of his creative drive, while listening to music and playing sports satisfied others. A trip in the early ‘80s to visit his cousin in Cincinnati led to Common’s fascination with hip-hop. His eyes sparkle and a smile fills his face as he recalls how he marveled at the moves of the break-dancers he encountered in clubs and in the city’s parks and streets.

But it was the seminal 1982 recording “The Message” by Grandmaster Flash & the Furious Five that hooked Common. He wrote his first rap in 1984, but at that point he didn’t know that he’d become a rapper. He was on an academic track leading to college.

In the undergraduate business program at Florida A&M; University, Common was around people from different backgrounds and parts of the country for the first time in his life. He quickly realized how limited his vision was.

An avid reader, Common became more interested in the work of black authors James Baldwin, Langston Hughes and Richard Wright. Despite his affinity for the college lifestyle, Common was also a die-hard hip-hop fan who was constantly honing his rapping skills and sending demos to rap labels.

When Relativity Records offered him a recording contract in 1991, his decision to leave school to pursue his musical dream did not sit well with his mother.

“One thing that she and I both discovered was that education is freedom,” Common says. “When you learn more, you’re more free to do things. She wanted me to get that power, but she didn’t know that I was going to go through the educational process through music.”

That educational process included a tough time gaining acceptance from the rigid hip-hop community. When Common--who then performed under the name Common Sense--released his debut album, 1992’s “Can I Borrow a Dollar?,” rap cognoscenti were unwilling to give him a chance.

“I faced the obstacle of people not paying attention because it was coming from a new area,” he says. “The mentality seemed like, ‘It’s either East Coast or West Coast, or we aren’t dealing with it.’ Then there were barriers of dialect, because being from Chicago, we’ve got different slang.”

On his second album, 1994’s “Resurrection,” Common lashed out in “I Used to Love Her” at hip-hop, which he thought had lost its originality and innovation.

Soon, L.A. rappers Ice Cube, Mack 10 and WC, who teamed as the group Westside Connection, were dissing Common in their songs.

But after the murders of Tupac Shakur in 1996 and the Notorious B.I.G. in 1997, Common and Ice Cube made amends at a 1997 conference held by Louis Farrakhan.

“Common’s probably the prime example of what it is to have respect on both ends of the spectrum,” says Ahmir “?estlove” Thompson, executive producer of Common’s new album and drummer of the Grammy-winning rap group the Roots. “There are cats that are too commercial and cats that are too underground. He gets the same respect from both sides. He’s a vanguard for hip-hop.”

Common’s third album, 1997’s “One Day It’ll All Make Sense,” positioned him as one of hip-hop’s most exciting artists.

Common’s move to MCA Records began in 1998, when Wendy Goldstein, senior vice president of artists and repertoire for MCA, was told by Thompson and others that Common was unhappy with Relativity and was looking for a new recording home. MCA bought out his contract with Relativity in December 1998.

Goldstein was thrilled to get an artist of his caliber.

“I love the fact that he’s such a great lyricist,” she says. “A lot of people thought he never got the credit he deserved, that he should be bigger. A lot my artists were big Common fans. It was great to be able to get him.”

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One of the inspirations for the new album was former Black Panther member Assata Shakur, who has been living in Cuba since she escaped from prison in 1986 while being held for her role in the death of a New Jersey state trooper.

She and two other former Black Panthers, Sundiata Acoli and Zayd Malik Shakur, were stopped by state troopers on the New Jersey Turnpike in 1973. A shootout ensued, during which a trooper, Werner Foster, and Zayd were killed and Assata and Sundiata wounded. Assata and Sundiata were subsequently convicted of the murder of the trooper and related charges, and they were sentenced to life in prison without the possibility of parole.

In her Cuban exile, Shakur has become a controversial cause celebre, with supporters calling for her freedom and opponents for her extradition. Common is a firm believer in her being innocent.

“Just to meet somebody who’s been through all that struggle and overcame, freed their mind up, fought for freedom in all people, I felt that I was blessed to do that,” says Common, who met Shakur when he traveled to Cuba last year. “Damn, this was somebody who fought for my freedom. It made me want to do better in life, made me want to help people more.

“When you look at this gift that we have in hip-hop and how it affects the world, you know that it’s put here to deliver a message and communicate,” he says. “Cubans and Japanese are rapping, and they’re affected by hip-hop culture. I know that if I’ve been allowed this gift and I recognize certain things, it’s my duty to express those things and spread the word. If God gives you certain messages, you’re supposed to deliver them. That’s your duty. You can’t just take your talent and bury it.”