Along with Grandmaster Flash and Kool DJ Herc, Bambaataa was responsible for building the DJ foundation of hip-hop. It isn't unreasonable to suggest that all roads lead back to this turntabilised trinity, who started out playing block parties and park jams together or against each other in the Bronx in the early 1970s. They were the first to spin the breakdown sections of tracks back to back to allow breakdancers to develop an entirely new form of street dance; they were also the first to fully explore the possibilities of scratching and MCing.

The rewards have been few. Even though Herc was credited with much of the innovation, he swiftly vanished into virtual obscurity, and is now a name familiar only to those with a deep interest. Grandmaster Flash was quick to realise the possibilities of taking the hip-hop sound uptown to the clubs. Building up a formidable DJ reputation, he also released some genius records (The Message, White Lines) before watching his rappers the Furious Five – and his career – fall to pieces around him. He has only seriously picked up the thread in the last two years.

But Bambaataa, who is preparing to visit New Zealand as part of the 2004 Big Day Out line-up, never dropped out of sight for long. His mission has always been to push hip-hop and the positive force of funk forward by any means necessary.

When he began deejaying in the early 70s, the requisite tools weren't even available. "There was no mixer, none of that," he says. "You brought your system out of your mother's or father's house. That's the ones when they used to have the spindle that drops six records, 45s, at one time. Or you could pull off the spindle, and play it manually, hoping that the needle don't keep going back.

"And then you used to set up on the other side with somebody else's system. When you saw the record going down, you flashed the light and then put on the other record and hope you get it on cue before the next record goes down. That's before there was any mixers or two turntables together or any echo chambers."

Bambaataa was born Kevin Donovan in New York City. A fervent collector of vinyl from an early age, he was gifted a set of turntables by his mother after graduating from high school and his life changed. Now able to throw his own parties, he built up a fearsome reputation for his eclectic mixes that might begin with "The Munsters Theme" – taped directly off TV – before moving through soul, heavy funk, African and Latin music, anything with a solid beat.

As well as pioneering with the turn-tables, he also held authority on the streets as the leader of the Bronx River Projects division of the Black Spades gang. Schooled on the likes of the Black Panthers, the Nation of Islam, NAACP, Malcolm X and Martin Luther King Jr, and inspired by the pro-black messages of Sly and the Family Stone, Parliament and James Brown, he began to move the gang away from crime. As prototype hip-hop rose and its influence spread, the Black Spades changed their name to the Organisation, and began to spread the word beyond the Bronx. By November 1973, under his leadership, they had changed their name again, to Zulu Nation.

Also since then, Kevin Donovan would forever be known as Afrikaa Bambaataa (which translates as "affectionate leader"). Though he was a keen student of African history and culture, it was ironically the trash movie Zulu, starring Michael Caine and depicting the legendary battle between British troops and a Zulu tribe in South Africa in 1879, that inspired his new name.

"I guess it might seem strange now that a film like that would prove so important, but that's how it happened," he says. "Zulu Nation was something to stop the gang violence that was plaguing the communities in New York City. It started in the black and Latino community and then moved on, and progressed and spread. It all began with the infinity lessons, bringing the fifth element of hip-hop, which is the knowledge, the culture and overstanding. Zulu Nation stands for knowledge, wisdom, understanding, freedom, justice and equality, peace unity love and having fun, overcoming the negative to the positive, work, science, mathematics economics, faith and the wonders of God, whether you call Him many different names …"

Based on a curious mixture of new age philosophy and black empowerment, the Zulu Nation celebrated its 30th anniversary in November. On the strength of their exhaustive website, it would be easy to simply dismiss them as fruitloops. Much of its writings are devoted to subjects such as numerology, UFOs and the paranormal. Their thirst for knowledge may have led them down some dubious paths, but much of the real power of the organisation lies in creating a community of hip-hop "true schoolers" around the world. Current Zulu Nation-affiliated events advertised – ominously, all of which have to be approved by something called the World Council before being published – include culture-packed evenings in Switzerland, Belgium, Sao Paolo, Tokyo and Puerto Rico. Want to join the Zulu Nation? Simple. All you need do is fill out a 30-question form on the Net. However, you'll be expected to show your value to the organisation by answering questions such as "What is your opinion of loyalty?" and "Have you ever studied self-defence?" Presumably, the responses are then adjudicated by the World Council.

Still, thousands have joined over the years and Bambaataa is convinced that it is as resolute as ever.

"It has many different chapters throughout the world today. They have different things they put on the Internet, they all communicate from different cities, and they all stay strong … Hip-hop culture is something that we started. Although everybody's in corporations and money's all involved now, we're just keeping true to the culture."

He is animated when discussing the aims and achievements of the gang that has transformed into a worldwide organisation dedicated to urban survival through peaceful means. Choosing his words carefully, he is considerably more guarded when it comes to the current state of the multi-billion-dollar hip-hop industry.

"There's a lot of the corporate world that is controlling hip-hop. A lot of the companies are not letting rappers take control of what they wanna say and be. I'd like to see the culture getting a bit more of the money, rather than just the rappers. I respect some people, like Missy Elliot and Busta Rhymes, who are trying to keep the culture alive in their videos and whatnot. But it could be a whole lot more."

Many commentators – including film director Spike Lee – are concerned that hip-hop has become a very conservative music form. Political issues have been obliterated by an overwhelming wave of thug fantasies, materialistic content and "beefing", especially on the major labels.

"Yeah, some of it's like that, but not all of it," says Bambaataa. "When it comes to the beefing and rappers squabbling, we [the Zulu Nation] have always taken care of a lot of business behind closed doors. Get the family together and make them see what's wrong and change their ways. You know it sells for certain media corporations that love to keep that beef happening. Some of these groups and rappers, they just do it because it makes money."

As devoted as he undoubtedly is to hip-hop, Bambaataa is ultimately, like all true DJs, simply a music specialist with wide tastes. When he added the bassline from Kraftwerk's "Numbers" to the melody from their "Trans Europe Express" classic, and laid them over the percussion from Captain Sky's obscure "Super Sperm" to create his 1982 classic single "Planet Rock", he instigated a blend he called "electro funk". Soon shortened to "electro", and followed up by releases such as "Looking for the Perfect Beat" and "Renegades of Funk", this music was a vital strand in the creation of techno and modern dance music.

He became a beacon for skinny English white boys. Malcolm McLaren's "Buffalo Gals" was directly influenced by his spending time with Bambaataa in the early 1980s. The Clash were regulars in the crowd for Bambaataa's shows at the Mudd Club and the Roxy. And he also coaxed one of John Lydon's best vocal performance on the storming Timezone single "World Destruction".

"A lot of people just forget that the punk rockers were the first white guys to get into hip-hop, and accept this music," he says. "Their music was rebellious and against all the pop music of that time – and we were up against the disco that was being shoved down everyone's throats, too. So they would bring me down to the punk rock clubs to mix, and then you'd also see punk rockers coming to jam in seriously black and Hispanic neighbourhoods as well."

Bambaataa's enthusiasm for pushing the boundaries has unquestionably led to a fistful of inspired musical moments. The flipside has been plenty of crap records, including turgid collaborations with Westbam, Boy George and UB40. Endless remixes of "Planet Rock" have only diluted the power of the original. But deejaying at the Big Day Out should be a different proposition: after all, this is a man who started playing Bronx house parties way back when, making him one of the most experienced practising players in the game. He won't be drawn on what specific styles he'll be laying down, but is keen that the audience know what to expect for his first-ever New Zealand set.

"I'm just coming to deejay. Make it funky. I want to see New Zealand get wild on the dancefloor. My style of deejaying is just deejaying. I leave all the tricks and stuff to the young bloods. I just like to bring funky music that other DJs wouldn't play, and make people dance to stuff they wouldn't expect to. I'm throwing down the challenge. Like they say, 'Shake your ass – show me what you can do!'"

His final words: "Tell the record stores I'll be in there looking for that New Zealand funk and hip-hop. I'll be getting my hands on all they got."