Brother Ali turns his troubles into hip-hop triumphs

CAMBRIDGE - He's known as the albino Muslim rapper from Minnesota, which is a tidy way of pointing out that Brother Ali is the ultimate outsider. While kids from the hood had it rough, grew up tough, and switched on the swagger as rappers, Ali - cranium crooked, legally blind, and allergic to the sun - had it rougher. He was oppressed not for his color, but for his colorlessness.

To the delight of those rap fans underserved by even the most conscious of MCs, Ali grew up strong, took a pass on braggadocio, and turned his troubles into pure hip-hop empowerment.

"To everyone out there who's a little different/I say damn a magazine, these are God's fingerprints," Ali instructed a sold-out house of followers at the Middle East on Friday, during "Forest Whitaker." And the crowd, fists pumping and arms waving, joined in for the chanting refrain: "Whatever comes up comes out/We don't put our hands over our mouth."

That's Ali's mantra, and the defining message of his relaxed but pointed set that drew from the artist's two full-length CDs - "The Undisputed Truth" and "Shadows on the Sun" - as well as the "Champion" EP. Ali, who wears his heart on his sleeve, doesn't have much in common with corporate rappers who find "eight different ways to describe diamonds sparkling," as he gingerly noted while professing fandom for Soulja Boy. But he's savvy all the same, crafting a meaningful trajectory in under an hour that spanned the personal, the political, and the universal.

Ali laid his foundation with "Watcha Got," a gauntlet thrown down on an ominously treated microphone, soul anthem "Truth Is," the rapper's galvanizing statement of purpose, and "Shadows on the Sun," offering assurances in his warm, unpretentious flow: "Leave it to me to create hope where there was none."

So Ali did, dubbing himself the urban Norman Rockwell on winsome "A Room with a View" before sketching pained portraits of divorce ("Walking Away") and single parenting ("Faheem"). Domestic troubles led to larger ones, and "Uncle Sam Goddamn," Ali's artful, biting indictment of the government, stood as a gripping reminder of hip-hop's under-realized potential as this generation's protest music.

But as promised, Ali finished on a note of triumph. "What can I say/I got a brand new baby daughter on the way!" was the impromptu revelation wedged into "Ear to Ear." It's a song that celebrates Ali's new marriage and musical achievements with a title that refers to the unlikely size of his smile.

Joan Anderman can be reached at anderman@globe.com