By Jabari Asim

Monday, August 4, 2003; 11:09 AM

I've spent much of the past few days cranking up the crunk.

Featuring a pulse-pounding, chant-driven sound, Southern-bred crunk is the latest form of rap music to catch on nationally. After reading about its rise in USA Today, I became curious enough to sample it for myself. So I headed down the hall to my No. 1 son's room and placed an order. Sure enough, he had recordings from most of the genre's leading artists, including David Banner, Lil Jon & the East Side Boyz, and Three 6 Mafia.

I've never been particularly enchanted with rap, although I do have a handful of rap recordings in my personal trove. I try to pay attention to it because of its increasingly dominant presence in much of American and international popular culture. In addition, it gives me something to talk about with my son during those rare instances when he doesn't have headphones glued to his ears.

Occasionally I'm tempted to tell him how my friends and I knew all the words to "The Message" by Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five back in the day -- but then I realize I'll just sound like my dad telling me about that golden era when Billy Eckstine ruled the bandstand. I've always been partial to clever hip-hop acts such as Arrested Development and De La Soul, thoughtful groups whose work has often been overshadowed by the venomous ranters of gangsta rap. Always willing to glean a jewel or two from the dull rubble littering the pop charts, I cranked up the crunk with an open mind.

Somehow I made it through all 74 minutes of "Mississippi," David Banner's CD. Songs such as "Like a Pimp" have infectious beats all right, although burdened by obscene lyrics crafted with considerably less care. Banner apparently has a working vocabulary of about 10 words, almost none of them printable. Lil Jon's "Get Low," a popular single, is richly rhythmic and vaguely reminiscent of the fraternity chants I heard during my college days. Three 6 Mafia's "Ridin' Spinners" was indecipherable, repetitive and lost me quickly -- which is a good thing because, like nearly every tune I listened to, its positive qualities were undone by its casual denunciations of women.

I could fret over the effect of such lyrics on my son's uncritical ears and even lecture him about it. To do so, however, I'd have to forget that when I was his age I loved to pump up the volume on Prince's "Dirty Mind" album, which included odes to incest and suicide, among other family-friendly topics.

If the history of rap is any indication, Madison Avenue is probably already looking for ways to sanitize crunk's nastier side. Advertisers will likely give it a closer listen than I did, searching each rhythm-heavy hook for its marketing potential. More and more, merchandisers are using hip-hop to make their products attractive to the most desirable demographic: Young People Who Spend.

The struggling concert industry hopes for a transfusion this summer from rapper Jay-Z's Rock the Mic extravaganza, currently rolling through such gritty urban outposts as Salt Lake City. Music-video queen Missy Elliott is turning up on Gap billboards, giving the ailing retailer a dose of much needed cool. Snoop Dogg hosts his own comedy show on MTV. Hollywood is banking on Queen Latifah's continuing appeal. In boardrooms across America, an art form once dismissed as a thuggish fad is being counted on to rescue sagging sales.

The most extreme example of pop commerce's dependence on hip-hop style may be the Flavas (pronounced FLAY-vuhs), a new line of dolls from Mattel. The company says the dolls are designed to be a part of a "trend encouraging girls to show their inner flava to the outer world." Decked out in what looks like cast-offs from Lil' Kim's closet, the four multicultural Flava girls hang with a couple of homeboys named Tre and P. Bo. No word yet on the name of the 'hood where they chill, but I get the feeling it's a long way from Barbie's Malibu beach house.

Meanwhile, the creators of crunk are in no hurry to commercialize their sound. A Grammy winner named Killer Mike told USA Today that he wants the music he loves to keep its dangerous edge a little longer. "I'm hoping we don't start making Pepsi and Coke commercials too quick," he said. While you're hoping, Mike, I'll be anticipating the arrival of Lil Jon action figures -- in specially marked boxes of Cap'n Crunk, no less.