Kendrick Lamar—To Pimp a Butterfly

Kendrick Lamar—To Pimp a Butterfly

To Pimp a Butterfly—It seems like an obvious record to make. Hip hop has long been a genre that, in its works' most soulful iterations, borrows greatly from monolithic black artists. In this respect, To Pimp a Butterfly (2015) is nothing new, although it is a voice for a new generation. Kendrick Lamar offers Miles Davis as an influence in the album's creation, which again comes as no surprise, but it is notable in the sense that Davis—who today is seen as a legendary figure in music—was once essentially in the same position as Kendrick. Their talents are different, but Kendrick's situation now is one where his body of work is starting to establish itself. He lived in the shadows of Dr. Dre, touring mates Game and Tech N9ne, and consecrated West Coast rapper 2Pac. It is then telling that Butterfly features marginal creative input from this particular cast in contrast to good kid, m.A.A.d city (2012), which showcased Dre and contemporaries Drake and Jay Rock.

This is not to say Butterfly doesn't have star power, but even the likes of George Clinton, Ronald Isley, and Snoop Dogg take backseats to Kendrick. Rival Kanye West welcomes collaboration and wears the notions of clout on his sleeve, but Kendrick eschews this with repeated visits to the idea of "misusing [one's] influence" as part of the larger poem around which the album's concept is based—and it is a concept album, no matter what anyone says. Given this framework, it is not surprising that, outside the sample of "Every Nigger Is a Star," the first voice heard on the album's opener "Wesley's Theory" is trumpeter Josef Leimberg (credits). Kendrick makes his intentions clear with a foreboding James Brown-twinged P-Funk groove, with the key phrase "Bridges burned all across the board" presenting the album's most vital professional statement. Dre's spoken verse backs this move under the guise of separation, which highlights the subversive nature of the record.

"For Free?" continues the onslaught of Kendrick's musical shifts, this time thanks to jazz pianist Robert Glasper. The former's message turns from personal to societal as he attacks American consumerism and wealth inequality before his motivations collude to form the single "King Kunta" as Kendrick's crosshairs turn to his contemporaries, taking his shot at a throne he insists was abdicated by the time he got there. His quip that "Something's in the water" perhaps unwittingly foreshadows the direction he takes on "Institutionalized" with the modulated vocals made famous by Prince. Its syncopated rhythms and seamless backing from Snoop Dogg and Bilal take the forefront as Kendrick's distorted raps echo the sentiments of the preceding songs, bringing together the slave imagery and wealth concerns but with the first hint of self-examination that continues throughout the album.

"These Walls" begins an artistic deconstruction for Kendrick; at times the metaphors are heavy-handed with Anna Wise (credits) interjecting the song's partial theme of sex. His lyrics become more nuanced as the song sloughs its dance trappings, a process mirrored on emotional centerpiece "u," a nervous breakdown set to music. What begins as a descent snaps in half as Kendrick's rapping turns to staggering lament. The much-celebrated piece, while conceptually strong with a Stevie Wonder-like break in the middle, suffers from an unnatural delivery in its second half and liquor glass sound effects that give it a degree of banality. "Alright" is perhaps the album's weakest song, being less inspired lyrically and introducing tired apologues that stick out unfavorably among Kendrick's more contemporary references. Recurrent collaborator Pharrell's production is bare and his hook is even less memorable. "For Sale?" is a better appropriation of the "Lucy" subject, which here is at least presented in a humorous light.

Kendrick begins to reconstruct his sound on "Momma," a strong hit of nostalgia with funk styling and an off-kilter beat, which exudes down-home charm and times of decades past in his life. "Hood Politics" suffers from a regressive, petty quality to its lyrics and forgettable music, with the exception of its third verse which makes interesting claims about the state of the rap game. However, it does nicely set up "How Much a Dollar Cost," which mixes solid hooks with a plodding beat and downcast semitones to make something greater than the sum of its parts. "Complexion (A Zulu Love)" adds a message of equality to the slave themes put forth on "King Kunta," but it must have been apparent that the music was becoming predictable around this point on the album, as those involved decided to sequence next the second single "The Blacker the Berry," The most aggressive, Public Enemy-influenced song on the album is also the most explicit in its depiction of black oppression, but with the added element of personal hypocrisy.

"You Ain't Gotta Lie (Momma Said)" is a forgettable reiteration of themes expounded better on "Wesley's Theory" and "King Kunta," but the penultimate song "i" (heard here in a live rendition; the single released in 2014 is a studio version) is a breath of fresh air. Its near-bubblegum guitar and backing vocals support a complete feeling-reversal of "u." The only real problem with the recording is commentary and questions posed by Kendrick after the song that are rather empty and even senseless ("I promised Dave I'd never use the phrase "fuck nigga"/He said, "Think about what you saying: 'Fuck niggas'").

Attempting to tie it all in is the twelve-minute "Mortal Man," a make-or-break summation that unfortunately falls flat. It relies too heavily on name-checks and meaningless jargon (Murphy’s law, Generation X, will I ever be your ex?). It's not altogether terrible, but what follows—a complete reading of the poem that is dispersed throughout the transitions between the album's songs—is mediocre, as its continuation at the very end. In between these accounts is a repurposed Tupac Shakur interview, which by Kendrick's involvement in the conversation reveals a less savory side of his ego. Though the points Shakur made in these statements are intermittently interesting, they are somewhat myopic and unflattering aside from his assertion that black men only seem to care about their struggle at a young age before losing their fire.

There is no denying Kendrick Lamar has taken a great step in his career with To Pimp a Butterfly. It's a meaty work that's lyrically dense and has some great pop, but it's also uneven. The most derivative tunes, while pleasing, don't build on the music that inspired it, and some songs don't attempt this at all. It will be interesting to see if Kendrick takes his foot back out of the water with his next album, as he did not seem fully committed to the new sound, and because of it a lot of songs that were already served tepid seem even more lifeless by comparison. Its best songs are excellent, but the series of flops that mostly plague the second half are exhausting. Most of all, it's a predictable record historically and artistically, and it shows: the best songs are the singles.