Mississippi rapper Big K.R.I.T. appears torn. He relishes country's warm and calloused embrace while longing for creature comforts and city lights. His subjects are consequential, although a few cocktails from "conscious"—evocative but hardly "emo." And though he is no pitchman, K.R.I.T. fetishizes stacking cash while simultaneously shining light on poverty's wicked pulsations (not to mention wealth's ultimate impermanence). But such existential limbo is often sensationalized or imposed by critics. Like most, K.R.I.T. simply seems to be making things up as he goes along. Sometimes it's not where you aim, it's where you land. And with a bit of luck the rapper and producer will shed the oddly derisive label of "rap purist" and simply emerge pure.
ANDREW R. TONRY