good kid, mAAd city - Kendrick Lamar
Of the rapidly multiplying number of rap subgenres, socially conscious rap presents the greatest challenge to artists; attempting to represent the problems faced by an entire marginalized group too often comes off as arrogance, and broadly condemning society for not solving these problems registers as accusatory rather than inspirational. After enduring the overbearing diatribes of political raps from the likes of Lupe Fiasco, I approached newcomer Kendrick Lamar’s social commentary with skeptical caution. Happily enough, Lamar’s first album addressed domestic abuse, poverty and prostitution with a surprisingly light touch; “Section 8.0” integrated personal struggles with broader political issues, engaging rather than alienating the listener. Picking up where “Section 8.0” left off, Kendrick’s new, biographical album “good kid mA.A.d city” proceeds to systematically destroy politically conscious rap’s self imposingly preachy tradition. Kendrick is not interested in making political accusations, but accurately relating personal experiences; social consciousness forms naturally through Kendrick’s experience of life in a poor urban area. Politically charged themes most rappers address in a broad sense - gang violence, sexual abuse - appear in “good kid, mA.A.d city,” as natural aspects of life Kendrick encounters and deals with in the course of growing up. The album’s remarkable lack of preachiness allows Kendrick to incorporate social awareness into a textured, accurate and often strikingly funny portrait of youth. Blessedly, Kendrick understands adolescence as a conflation of heightened moral conflicts and objectively ridiculous hormonal desires, and responds accordingly with humor and empathy. “Sherane aka Master Splinter’s Daughter,” the story of one of Kendrick’s first relationships, addresses the cultural pervasiveness of irresponsible sex in a cheekily self aware recollection of being “seventeen with nothing but pussy on my mental.” Seamlessly integrating cultural commentary into personal storytelling, Kendrick raps, “Love or lust, regardless we’ll fuck cause the trife in us/is deep rooted, the music of being young and dumb/Is never muted, in fact it’s much louder where I’m from.” The song ends with a voice mail message from Lamar’s mother, calling just as Kendrick prepares to lose his virginity. Interrupting teenage Kendrick’s fantasy of becoming “a professional porn star...enthused by the touch of a woman,” Mrs Lamar loudly demands Kendrick “bring the damn car back” so she can “go to the grocery store and get food stamps.” Regardless of comedic value, the ongoing presence of Lamar’s parents grounds Kendrick’s narrative in the adolescent struggle to rectify boundary-pushing culture and traditional family responsibilities. “Backseat Freestyle” - based off a rap Kendrick originally composed as a teenager - coalesces confusion and bravado, presenting the posturing of a teenager adrift in an overbearing world. Coming from most established adult rappers, lines like “I wish my dick grew big as the Eiffel tower/so I could fuck the world for seventy two hours” smack of false machismo; in the mouth of an insecure 16 year old trying to impress a cooler crowd, Kendrick’s boasts express genuine longing. The jolting beat belies Lamar’s confidence, shuddering frantically as Kendrick spools off bravado.
“Good kid, mA.A.d city” frames Kendrick’s struggle for identity amongst conflicting cultural norms as more abstract relationship between Kendrick and his hometown of Compton, CA. Ever since hip hop “made it big” - infiltrating the suburbs and the top 40 - rappers evoke urban community as a statement of identity; remembering “the hood” became an expression of authenticity, a callback to rap’s legitimate roots. The hood is Tupac and Biggy’s element, a realm gangster rappers know well enough to comfortably dominate through drug deals and gang fights. It’s the hometown justifying Lupe’s rants against government indoctrination, the “real America” evoked by everyone from Jay Z to Public Enemy. Lamar’s relationship with Compton proves much more complex, and - regardless of Tupac and Biggy’s claims to authenticity - much more believable. Lamar cannot claim ownership of Compton, or even what Compton represents; the city threatens to consume teenage Kendrick in a sea of conflicting standards. “MA.A.d City” raises the album’s stakes, thrusting listeners into the front lines of a gang fight; here, hometown pride, family honor, social posturing and drug use run together into something terrible and incomprehensible, a cultural flood Kendrick struggles not to drown in. “MA.A.d City” jolts manically between verses, Schoolboy Q’s reassurance that “it ain’t nothing but a Compton thing” imposed over Lamar’s desperate narration of a near death experience. Halfway through the song, Kendrick’s narrative breaks into a frantic jumble, referencing everything from Pakistan to old horror movies. “Kill them all if they gossip, children of the corn, they vandalizing, option of living a lie, drown their body with toxins, constantly drinking and driven to hit the powder and watch this flame that arrive in his eye, this is a coward the concept is aim and they bang it and slide out that bitch with deposits, and the price on his head, the tithes probably go to the projects, I live inside the belly of the rough, Compton made me an angel on Angel Dust,” Kendrick exhales in a single breath. In addition to being breathtaking display of rap prowess, Kendrick’s rap displays an attempt - and ultimate failure - to conflate Compton into a single set of values. Compton contains too many powerful stories for anyone, least of all Kendrick, to claim ownership of. All Lamar can do is record reality; the narrative of personal experiences, the verbatim voices of parents and friends, emotions associated with specific events - and try to make a story. And that story is real.
“Good kid, mA.A.d city” frames Kendrick’s struggle for identity amongst conflicting cultural norms as more abstract relationship between Kendrick and his hometown of Compton, CA. Ever since hip hop “made it big” - infiltrating the suburbs and the top 40 - rappers evoke urban community as a statement of identity; remembering “the hood” became an expression of authenticity, a callback to rap’s legitimate roots. The hood is Tupac and Biggy’s element, a realm gangster rappers know well enough to comfortably dominate through drug deals and gang fights. It’s the hometown justifying Lupe’s rants against government indoctrination, the “real America” evoked by everyone from Jay Z to Public Enemy. Lamar’s relationship with Compton proves much more complex, and - regardless of Tupac and Biggy’s claims to authenticity - much more believable. Lamar cannot claim ownership of Compton, or even what Compton represents; the city threatens to consume teenage Kendrick in a sea of conflicting standards. “MA.A.d City” raises the album’s stakes, thrusting listeners into the front lines of a gang fight; here, hometown pride, family honor, social posturing and drug use run together into something terrible and incomprehensible, a cultural flood Kendrick struggles not to drown in. “MA.A.d City” jolts manically between verses, Schoolboy Q’s reassurance that “it ain’t nothing but a Compton thing” imposed over Lamar’s desperate narration of a near death experience. Halfway through the song, Kendrick’s narrative breaks into a frantic jumble, referencing everything from Pakistan to old horror movies. “Kill them all if they gossip, children of the corn, they vandalizing, option of living a lie, drown their body with toxins, constantly drinking and driven to hit the powder and watch this flame that arrive in his eye, this is a coward the concept is aim and they bang it and slide out that bitch with deposits, and the price on his head, the tithes probably go to the projects, I live inside the belly of the rough, Compton made me an angel on Angel Dust,” Kendrick exhales in a single breath. In addition to being breathtaking display of rap prowess, Kendrick’s rap displays an attempt - and ultimate failure - to conflate Compton into a single set of values. Compton contains too many powerful stories for anyone, least of all Kendrick, to claim ownership of. All Lamar can do is record reality; the narrative of personal experiences, the verbatim voices of parents and friends, emotions associated with specific events - and try to make a story. And that story is real.