In 2000, a 17-year-old Twin Cities-based MC by the name of Eyedea bewildered hip-hop heads everywhere after being crowned the freestyle champion of the HBO -televised Blaze Battle hosted by rap pioneer KRS-One . Boasting intellectual lyrics, sharp-edged wit and a spot on Minneapolis rap label Rhymesayers , the eccentric St. Paul rhyme junkie had firmly cemented his status as the most lyrically gifted MC on the battle-rap circuit.

Eyedea had all the momentum, praise and promise any musician his age could hope for. But after abandoning the battle circuit and releasing two albums with turntable guru DJ Abilities , Eyedea — at what seemed like the peak of his career — set the mic down to take an unexpected leave of absence from the hip-hop world.

So when he re-emerged in 2006 with improvisational jazz-rap project Face Candy, comprised of local rappers Kristoff Krane , Carnage The Executioner, drummer JT Bates and bassist Casey O’Brien , the reactions ranged from incredulity to outright hostility.

“I’ve had multiple death threats. Like letters that are written in [expletive] blood saying ‘When I see you I’m gonna stab you,’ ” Eyedea said. “[Fans] were so hurt and so confused why somebody that won a Blaze Battle when they were 17 years old — why a decade later would they want to start a different band.”

But despite the violent backlash, Eyedea insists he’s not just a rapper, he’s a musician, and a studious one at that. Today, he still raps, performs with Face Candy, toils in countless musical side projects and even authored a book of poetry with his grandmother. Now a year removed from releasing the rock-infused Eyedea and Abilities record “By the Throat,” E&A are ready to embark on a two-week July tour that kicks off with a show Sunday at the Walker Art Center in Minneapolis.

In “By the Throat,” Eyedea shows that he’s still the same introspective neurotic he was 10 years ago, but he refuses to return to his battle-rap heyday. Instead, the byproduct is a collection of droning, grunge-inspired hits and misses that sees the duo’s signature sound evolving into something more layered and massive than anything in the realm of contemporary hip-hop.

“The older I get, I’m trying to compartmentalize less and less,” he said. “With the E&A record, it was a little more of an attempt to bring some of the styles together so we can show the listener, ‘Yeah, it’s okay to play guitars and hip-hop.’ Music is supposed to have no rules, you know?”

But even today — 10 years after the Blaze Battle — Eyedea still feels pigeonholed, as if he’s constantly working in the shadow of his earlier freestyle work.

“What I try to explain to [fans] was one of the reasons I was really good at it was because I never gave a [expletive] about it,” he said. “I didn’t care if I lost or not because it was so meaningless.”