Review Summary: Chapter 2: losing my religion
Faith has always been an enormous part of Kendrick Lamar's music, and here it's used as a symbol of escapism, a way out for people going through what Lamar has experienced. But what had he experienced? Such details were at this point unclear. Often feeling like a mere bystander to the events unfolding on
Section.80, Lamar's stoic devotion to God actually gave his rapping a rather condescending tone, especially when addressing the plights of those unfortunate enough to grow up in the mean streets of Compton and never escape. The tales of abused prostitutes and dead drug dealers were undoubtedly relatable to some, but Lamar's absence from the narrative made his role as a frightened kid in an enormous city where danger lurks around every corner sound somewhat farfetched.
The contrast between Kendrick's innocence and purity and the terrifying image of Compton is emphasised with every word spat, every hook sung and every beat dropped on this record. As such,
good kid, m.A.A.d city is by far the most interesting project that Lamar has come up with thus far. Following his early years as a womanising gang-banger to his more reflective self as both his journey and the album come to a close, this is a story that employs Lamar's voice in such a gripping way that it's difficult not to be intrigued by his lyrical ambitions. But hip-hop albums that unfold in the way this one does tend to feature a likeable protagonist, not just a person who has found light in a dark place and exploited it to his own end.
And Kendrick, try as he might, utterly fails to make this album sound as riveting as its concept. It may initially seem quite bizarre that Kendrick would choose such a boring pair of bookends for his sophomore effort, but when you take into account how often he places storytelling over the actual quality of his tracks, it's a little less surprising. The songs that unfold in more interesting ways, such as the murky synths and thumping bass of 'Swimming Pools', tend to appear randomly with no sequence of any kind. This results in a very inconsistent album that reaches just as many soaring heights as it stumbles into its cavernous lows.
While these low points don't quite gut the album in the way they could have, they were very, very bad ideas. The biggest culprit is 'Real', an inane track that above all proves that Kendrick is immeasurably more interesting to listen to in his 'sinner' persona than he is as the glorified 'saviour' of his city towards the back end of this record. Given that this theme is such a recurring feature of Duckworth's music, it might best to summarise his career at this point as the definition of a survivor's tale told with a rather warped and almost selfish perspective.
