In every big movement in music, there is an antithesis that roams. There is always that outstanding act that wants to walk the off-beaten path, the unpopular road. From the 50s when Johnny Cash performed for prisoners through the early 90s when Nirvana battled the happy-go-lucky glam rock, we always have that musical artist that is a delight but obviously deviating from the norm.
Currently, there is this massive wave of clean-cut hip-hop and rap that is easy to the ears, easy to please, and easy to distribute to the masses. Whether it’s the emotional Drake, the how-is-she-getting-away-with-this Iggy Azalea, the new-era calmer Eminem, or the I-just-want-to-start-a-party Flo-Rida and Pitbull, the current headliners of these genres don’t have the sharp edges of your underground hip-hop and not even the trailblazing music of the 80s and 90s. The top rap song from 2014 was Fancy, the top rap song from 2013 was Thrift Shop from Macklemore. I really don’t want to continue this (Starships by Nikki Minaj for 2012). So who is the antithesis of all this bubble gum hip-hop?
Kendrick Lamar.
Kendrick Lamar is currently the answer to our prayers for a return to 90s rap. Lamar not only shuffled the industry with his breakout album Good Kid, M.A.A.D. City (The best rap album in a decade, by the way), but has also challenged the entire rap industry to step its game up. I wonder if its mere coincidence that Eminem’s next album after Good Kid shook the music world was named Marshall Mathers LP 2. Kendrick became the main rapper to debunk and deny the trend of the laid-back rap we have been treated to for years. Despite his long road to success and recognition, Lamar remained set on his style, and never once calmed his sound---unlike his contemporaries Lil’ Wayne, Jay-Z (I have a soft spot for his music, but I will admit he’s not as hardcore as before), Eminem, Minaj, Lil’ Kim, and Kanye West.
Following up Good Kid, M.A.A.D. City is a very tough task. It is excruciatingly difficult to follow-up to a statement rap album. Just ask 50 Cent. Heck, any great album that comes out is usually followed by an album that disappoints. Just ask No Doubt, who needed 6 years to successfully pull off a good sequel to Tragic Kingdom, or Alanis Morisette who NEVER got to duplicate Jagged Little Pill.
But there is another option: go off your very own beaten path and do something totally different. My personal favorite example came from Nirvana’s follow-up album to megahit Nevermind.
In Utero was Nirvana challenging their fans to try a new sound, to try a new approach, to see if they can survive Nirvana flying far from how Nevermind sounded. The album was a major gamble and went through production hell because the studios knew that In Utero didn’t have a chance to become commercially successful or even commercially acceptable. Honestly, will any album with the song Rape Me survive the Billboard charts? Nonetheless, the fans responded and although it didn’t make Nevermind money, 15 million copies worldwide doesn’t hurt at all. And in retrospect, it’s a darn good album. And in more retrospect, those are darn good sales.
To Pimp a Butterfly is Kendrick Lamar’s In Utero rap album. It is different, from the lyrics to production to execution. Gone is all the layered storytime and gangsta rap of the 1990s, we now have an album heavy on jazz, heavy on funk, heavy on deep chaotic poetry. The songs don’t always gel together, as the album sounds like this was all recorded in a bebop jazz bar while Lamar was coasting through his fifth powerful shot of liquor. Remember those sharp edges missing in nearly all of modern hip-hop? To Pimp a Butterfly is essentially a rap flower with dozens of thorns.
The entire thing sounds like your typical lyrically-insane Lamar, but at the same time it doesn’t sound like him. While it is nowhere near as overproduced as Eminem’s second Marshall Mathers, it’s still an album that required much more editing and sound mixing than Lamar’s previous albums. More money definitely pumped through the veins of this collection of music. It can be a tough meal to chew on, and might require several more listens before coming to the correct conclusion as to whether or not it will survive in your IPod. But Lamar is the rapper’s rapper, a thinking man’s rapper. Similar to the best of Tarantino you need to be exposed to the art more than once to get the full picture.
This is not a bad album by any means, as a matter of fact this still certifies that Kendrick Lamar is the best in the business. It is just very different, very In Utero, and a very heavy shift away from M.A.A.D City. New fans might be turned off or might run away from all the jazz and the complexity of some of the lyrics. It definitely sounds a lot more South Side Chicago than Compton/Los Angeles. Your true dedicated fanbase however shouldn’t be disappointed. There is no half-assing here, Kendrick always throws haymakers at the microphone in all his albums. He has his fun at times (For Free), and then delivers powerful messages when you tread farther down the album (The Blacker the Berry, Mortal Man). And of course, what better way to end an album than a conversation with Tupac? I swear, Tupac is to rap what Michael Jordan is to the NBA—essential, influential, and always referenced long after leaving the game.
Kendrick Lamar currently is still the best rapper out there. This album, despite its unique mark in his career certifies his placement on top of the rap world.
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