Review Summary: Ambition and anger collide in a modern hip-hop tour de force.
Kendrick Lamar’s influences on To Pimp a Buttefly are evident long before you even start the first track. One only needs to look at the features on "Wesley’s Theory" to see the legendary George Clinton, of Parliament/Funkadelic, lending his talents to the Flying Lotus produced track. The entire album is a lush soundscape of rich, dynamic beats, with a delicious bass thrum far removed from the pounding expansive bass present in much of modern hip-hop. Lamar’s voice branches further into the realms of singing. "Wesley’s Theory" again, demonstrates that, with Lamar’s voice soaring over the combined talents of Clinton and bassist Thundercat, noted for his work in Suicidal Tendencies and with the aforementioned Flying Lotus.
With such an ambitious start there are already significant departures from Lamar’s established sound. Good Kid, m.A.A.d City, his universally acclaimed sophomore album debut, is hailed by many as a modern classic. Some call it “the west coast Illmatic,” an understandable comparison. A relatable hip-hop Bildungsroman dealing with the difficulty of inner-city life, it echoed established hip-hop tropes in a novel way, reaching acceptance both in the mainstream and in the underground music community alike. As whispers of his third album reached the media, and with the release of the very unorthodox single “i,” many worried that the album would crumple under Lamar’s clear ambition.
However, “i”, an upbeat, catchy, funky track, that seems a little lackluster on its own, acts as part of a greater overarching concept of the album, a far more ambitious one than anyone could have predicted going into the album. To Pimp a Butterfly is deeply personal, overtly political, and unabashedly black. The tremendous funk and jazz influences are clearly meant as a callback to the “black” art forms that preceded hip-hop, while calling up comparisons to music acts like EPMD, Digable Planets, and even early Snoop Dogg, who makes an appearance on this album as well.
The album is hardly a pure rap album, however. There is a lot of rapping on this album, but it’s interspersed with singing, yelling, howling, crying, and everything in between--all over incredibly dense jazz-funk inspired beats. It’s an emotional journey dealing with Lamar’s many personal demons, his problems with the sociopolitical morass that is racism in America, and his stormy romance with the rap game itself. The first and the last of those three are exemplified in the harrowing “u,” the first half of which functions as an infinitely superior retread of Jay-Z’s “Holy Grail,” an extended metaphor about love, and the second half of which is delivered as a crying Lamar plays a drunk character. His verses on “u” are interspersed with samples of the clinking of bottles and gulps of liquor, as he criticizes himself for not being loyal to where he came from.
There are high moments on this album as well, like the aforementioned “i” and the almost arrogant “King Kunta,” where Lamar confidently declares that he runs the game. After a rollercoaster of stories both personal and universal, the journey ends with “Mortal Man,” a track where Lamar asks you, the listener, “When the *** hits the fan, is you still a fan?” The track concludes with a mock interview with Tupac, using real audio of the deceased rapper. He asks his hero many questions, about being rich, about being black, about being American. It finishes with an allegory about a caterpillar, a hopeful one about the ability of the downtrodden in American society to break free of the shackles that bind them. The album ends with Lamar asking ‘Pac what he thinks of the allegory, only to receive no reply, an ending that implies that Lamar’s heroes are finally gone, and he now stands in their place, to inspire as they did.
This album is one of the most ambitious musical works I have ever heard in my life. Lamar’s vision shines through, and he joins the rarefied list of musicians that have successfully executed the concept album. His message is current, relevant, and righteously angry. The final product is likely to end up being one of the most significant musical statements of our decade.
