If Africa is in the midst of a hip-hop renaissance, the Senegalese trio Daara J could be the movement's foremost statesmen. Earning accolades worldwide for their vibrant 2004 record Boomerang ( Wrasse Records), the Dakar-based MCs Faada Freddy, N'Dongo D and Aladji are keen to explore the links between worlds old and new, and their music lies at the crux of what they call an emerging "hip-hop civilization." Robert Nolan spoke with Faada Freddy earlier this year about hip-hop's African roots, its emergence as an international language and the ability of music to evoke social and political change across the globe.

How did you guys first get into hip-hop?

When we first got started, Grandmaster Flash’s “The Message,” “Don’t push me cause I’m close to the… edge,” was one of the first songs that we heard and it was like, we know this music. It was an incarnation of the music we already knew from the griots [traditional West African caste of musicians] and tassou [traditional staccato rap].

We began to analyze the similarities between American rap and tassou. At that time the music was not computerized. All we had were calabash and drums. When you take the tassou and put it on a hip-hop track, you can’t tell it apart. We said, yeah, we can do that music because we identify with it.

In the beginning it was very difficult, because when you wanted to rap, people think you are trying to be a gangster. Even people into hip-hop music in Senegal would view it as marginal, uprooted, going away from their culture. Therefore, we had to prove that hip-hop is from Africa.

Some might contend hip-hop started right here in New York City.

Hip- hop just took its own course. Because of slavery, it has involved Afro-Americans, who brought the oral tradition into a modern music called hip-hop. The ancient form, though, is tassou. So we began to explain that, to let people know that what we were doing is from the heart and is part of our own culture.

What we’re going to do here is build up the bridge that slavery has broken. It’s about reminding some people of their roots. Many of my brothers here don’t remember their line, their African line. Some of them are Yoruba, who come from Nigeria, some from Gambia. They forgot.

But I’m like the portrait of yesterday. I’m the reflection from the mirror that was broken, forgotten. It’s good to see that people coming from where it started are coming around here to say, ok, we got separated, but now here we are, like a big family. You’ve been ripped up from your native land, but not from your culture. Hip-hop is a form of modern day griotism. But today, music brought us together. I was a million miles away, but today I am here. Look at the miracles that music do.

Tell me a bit more about tassou.

Tassou is something very natural. Everybody does it. It’s improvisation about your life, what you see in the streets, whatever.

So it’s kind of like freestyling?

Yeah. In Africa, music is not something industrial, its just natural, a part of our lifestyle. We don’t really focus on how many records we sell. It’s about how you feel, and how you are going to bring out this feeling verbally. That’s why everybody, more or less sings there.

What’s the difference between performing in the U.S. versus Africa?

Of course, we don’t really know the American audience. But there ain’t no audience like the African audience! When you are on stage, people come to dance with you, and it’s about sharing the music. We don’t really deal with these industrial things, bling and stuff, fancy cars, we’re not calling the girls ho’s. For the moment, it’s about the message, a positive message.

Dakar’s hip-hop scene is blowing up these days. Do you see your peers as collaborators or competitors?

Competition has to be to push any MC to excel himself and his work. But let us not focus on that, because you would rather talk about the guns that the youth are carrying in the street than clashing with each other. The credo of ‘my rap is better than your rap,’ even though it’s a pillar of hip-hop which we respect, let us not focus on this. We have more to teach and to learn, so let us not waste our time with violent rhymes and unconscious rhymes.

You guys rhyme in a whole slew of languages. French, English, Spanish and your native Wolof all make appearances on Boomerang. In [the documentary African hip-hop film] Ouaga Hip-Hop, you talk a lot about the importance of language in music.

I think the first language that has ever existed is the language of feeling. Two people can speak the same language, but if they don’t feel each other, the message won’t go through.

It took us a long time listening to American music before we could understand the words, but now we speak English as well, so we are going to communicate in English. But it’s more about the feeling, something very natural.

People need to learn to accept difference and be tolerant towards other cultures. We’ve all got something to learn. I believe that the dialects, the African dialects, have to be learned, because people know about the global languages like English and Spanish, and I think that interest in languages can break down the barriers, the linguistic barriers that exists and even make them accept their alter ego. We’re here for that, to let people know that language is universal. Let’s just feel each other, and in a way that we can hopefully build a better world.

People used to say ok. You’ve been colonized [by France in Senegal]. Yeah, we’ve been colonized, but so what? Now we speak more languages and communicate with a wide variety of people. We take it with the good side. Now it’s like a heavy weapon, not that we use to destroy, but to link up the people. Make them love the world itself. That’s why we call ourselves Daara J, the school of life. For us, its not only about Africa, or America or rap, it’s about a common conscience.

I heard you guys were heavily involved in getting out the vote last year for elections in Senegal.

Everybody was fed up with the old regime, and the rappers are reputed to be the voice of the voices. So we went out and said if you don’t vote, if you don’t take your destiny in hand and rule it, no one will do it for you. So we went on a campaign. You need to vote. We were not taking part with any parties, just getting out people to vote.

Islam is prevalent in Senegal and I know at least a few of you are pretty devout. How does that impact the music you make?

We are from a country where Christians marry Muslims and where people of all religions get together, so it makes no difference for us to be what we are. Religion is a personal thing. We don’t need to shout it, to say I’m this or I’m that. A human being is a human being. For me love is the only thing we need.

Any final thoughts before you guys get set to rock it?

All I know is those crazy people you see behind me, my guys, my friends, once they are on stage they are in a trance. We really feel the music and want to share it with people. You know, what we’ve learned from the music is that the music can lift up the soul and elevate it spiritually. So when we are on stage, we receive that much energy from the people, and it can lift us up to the point that we’re in a trance. It’s just the love we get from people. We transform it into a positive energy and give it back.

I also think it’s important that we link up to remind people of what hip-hop was in the beginning. You know, people talk about the old school. I think its good to talk about the old school, but it’s also important to talk about the ancient form.

You mean the ancient school?

Yeah. The ancient school!

*You can catch Daara J at GLOBALFEST, January 21 st and 22 nd at Joe's Pub in New York City.

Robert Nolan is online editor at the Foreign Policy Association and producer of the international affairs program Great Decisions, which airs on PBS stations nationwide.  He is a frequent contributor to Global Rhythm world music magazine and UN Wire, and resides in Long Island City, New York.