Royal flush

Kool Keith is the Shit. He will tell you himself. Kool Keith is the Shitman, coming back atcha with the upcoming Shitmania: The Final Destination — an album to bring “funky-ass records” back using “public toilet power” (his words). There’s already too much doo-doo on the radio, says prolific MC/producer Keith by phone from a New York hotel. That’s why he must dump a new record on the people who see the writing in pee-pee on the wall: Hip-hop needs the Shit kicked into and out of it.

Speaking of shit, this whole Shitman persona/album concept is probably bullshit. But then again, he might end up squeezing it out. You never know with Kool Keith; verbal diarrhea is this man’s currency. One thing, however, is for certain: With a full clip of ideas going off half-cocked, the man is never constipated creatively.

“No. 1 is the trajectory; add No. 0 for me,” says Keith. “Some want to make it to No. 1, but zero comes first. That means I’m ahead.

“I think I’m a Public Enemy No. 0,” he continues. “They always tryin’ to come at me. It’s like the fog, it comes around; I just lock myself in a stove, turn it up. Then the evil things leave because you cook them so much. That’s how to bring the heat.”

You’d think Keith would want to talk about The Return of Dr. Octagon, his first album portraying the eerie extraterrestrial physician since the groundbreaking Dr. Octagonecologyst was released in 1996. That earhole molester, produced by Dan the Automator, injected dusted hip-hop with an unctuous, oblique flow. Syllables sometimes failed to form sentences but demonstrated geometric theorems. And maybe Keith is talking about Dr. Octagon. It’s hard to tell, as one of Keith’s defining traits is an almost pathological need to obscure himself.

“The streets are handled by the Commissioner, the lyrical king,” says Keith, when asked about his spate of defiantly indie releases. “And that’s why all streets have my beats, because I have [aliases including] Black Elvis, Dr. Dooom, the Commissioner, KHM, Diesel Truckers — there have to be ... different avenues. And then I have space locked down with Octagon. I got land and air covered; I’m an all-around naval base.”

Despite claims of tactical supremacy, Keith doesn’t always maintain perfect aim. He made undeniable classics on 1988’s Critical Beatdown, then in Dr. Octagonecologyst and 1999’s Black Elvis/Lost in Space. His increasingly psychedelic sci-fi styles — as well as scatological lo-fi collaborations with Kutmasta Kurt — don’t always maintain focus for an entire album.

At times, it feels he’s retreading or losing traction on some of the new Doc Oc rock — dissociate ramblings about environmental erosion and alienation over swaggering robofunk synths by German production unit One Watt Sun. Dr. Octagon’s origin story somehow involves clones, which may partially explain moments of third-generation focus. Keith’s identity is like envelope-filtered funk, where at times even the bulbous bass can be drawn momentarily thin. The Return isn’t as surgical as Keith’s best, though “Trees,” “Aliens” and “Ants” are dope. These three tracks are athletic but not unduly juiced, and syncopated electro twitches like flaming hot loops give Keith solid hoops to jump through. He responds with rubbery acrobatics, spitting with trademark mental illness.

“You gotta keep your beat mean, tense,” says Keith about his general aesthetic. “You can’t use a piano; Snoopy can’t sit on the drum machine with Linus and Charlie. Keep it raw.”

What Kool Keith sells is a beautiful disaster — some funky shit — and it’s worth a sample.