Let’s Criticize Art I Love!: Kendrick Lamar

I’ve said it on this blog many times before and I’ll say it again: It’s healthy to recognize the flaws in the art you love. There is no such thing as perfect art, and even if the issues with an art object don’t bother you, it’s still healthy to recognize that they’re there.

I preach this gospel so often on this blog for many reasons, but I’ll stick with two. The first one is that fandom is bad. You should love the things you love and the people you love with all of your heart, but you also need to remember that people are flawed. That artist you love is flawed, they make flawed art, and this isn’t actually a problem because you’re also flawed. Understanding what you don’t like about a thing you love will lead to a better understanding of yourself and what you care about.

The second reason is that media illiteracy is also bad. Of course, discourse surrounding art based on shoddy or dishonest arguments is no good for anyone. But it’s also much simpler than that. It’s not just that there’s no such thing as perfect art, it’s that there’s not supposed to be any such thing as perfect art. If you go into a work of art expecting a transformative experience every time, you either won’t get it or you will. However, if you did, it speaks to a number of potential problems. Maybe you haven’t experienced enough art to tell when something’s not working. Maybe you have and you’re just deluding yourself. Maybe any number of things in between. However, a seemingly unblemished experience with a work of art is based on an inherently defective view of humanity and its ability to express itself, and any thoughts you bring to the world on a piece of art will come from a tainted well. Recognizing your problems with a work of art doesn’t taint your love. It just means you’re thinking more about it.

So in the interest of intellectually putting my money where my mouth is, let’s shit on some art I love! Specifically, the works of one Kendrick Lamar. 

Gun to my head, To Pimp a Butterfly is my favorite album from the 2010s. It is, simply put, an amalgamation of all the sounds that made me love music and it would basically be the thing a computer would spit out if you hooked it up to my brain and told it to make an album just for me. Moreover, if you made a checklist of attributes that a rapper needs to be considered great, Kendrick ticks every box. He is, simply put, one of my favorite artists of all time.

Why choose Kendrick Lamar for this exercise? Well, if the point is to critique art you love, you might as well go for the best, right?

He’s Frequently Bad At Communicating His Message

To some, this might sound insane. But let’s take a moment to consider that a lot of people think Kendrick is anti-vax.

Google “Kendrick Lamar anti-vax” and you’ll mostly get articles about the lines directed at Kyrie Irving on “Savior.” But if your algorithm is anything like mine, at the tippy top of your results will be Reddit.

It’s also worth pointing out that it’s not just anonymous internet mobs being stupid. Actual non-anonymous intelligent people have come to this conclusion as well. I’ve heard many podcasts from critics and generally intelligent people who’ve echoed this sentiment, as well as articulate think pieces and online threads. (I can sadly no longer find the links to said think pieces and I’d rather hang myself than go on Twitter, but at least one podcast you can go to is Last Song Standing, which is on the Dissect feed, featuring The Ringer’s Cole Cuchna and Charles Holmes. Specifically, go to the episode about Mr. Morale and the Big Steppers. Great podcast, by the way.) 

Reasonable people believe this, and they have ample reasons to do so. After all, the man put out a song called “N95” that’s largely about taking off figurative masks and there’s those lines on “Savior.” 

“Seen a Christian say the vaccine mark of the beast

Then he caught COVID and prayed to Pfizer for relief

Then I caught COVID and started to question Kyrie

Will I stay organic or hurt in this bed for two weeks?”

Those first two lines seem pretty pro-vaccine. However, things get dicey in the second two. First of all, questioning Kyrie about “staying organic” after he got COVID implies that he didn’t get the vaccine when he could’ve. Secondly, by framing the debate as one between rejecting technological and medical intervention and suffering or making the safe choice at the cost of supposed intrusion implies that Kyrie’s anti-vax stance has merit. That it’s a choice between two sound options as opposed to choosing between a vaccine medically proven by various institutions and research to be safe and effective and the ravings of an NBA player who not only isn’t qualified to speak on medicine but has also frequently proven himself to be a moron.

One can see how this confusion exists.

Personally, I think it’s just clunky phrasing. Not only has he been photographed wearing masks in spaces where it wasn’t mandatory to do so (including a Black Lives Matter protest in Compton), but if you’re going to read negatively into those comments, you also have to read into the positives as well. The lyrics don’t question whether or not the vaccine works, nor do they present any doubt about why they exist other than their intended purpose. However, I don’t think that anyone who left these songs thinking the opposite is crazy or stupid for thinking so. Whatever Kendrick’s stance may be, he failed to communicate it well.

There is also, of course, all of the discourse surrounding “Auntie Diaries.” I don’t think anyone walked away from that song thinking he was transphobic or anything like that. Moreover, as a cis man, my opinion doesn’t matter. However, nobody is crazy for thinking he didn’t make his point well. He misgenders his aunt and uses a certain slur several times, and even if his reasons for making these creative decisions have an intellectual justification, they arguably don’t have an emotional one. Or to put it more succinctly, the issue was failing to realize the emotional and moral live ammo he was playing with when it came to his trans listeners.

I thought his intentions were noble, and I also think it’s important to give people the space they need to evolve away from certain toxic behaviors and vocabulary. But to some, his intentions didn’t matter, and I can’t and won’t blame anyone who says otherwise.

And it’s not just Mr. Morale and the Big Steppers lyrics. Probably the most famous example of what I’m talking about is the closing from “The Blacker the Berry” off of To Pimp a Butterfly. “So why did I weep when Trayvon Martin was in the street/When gangbanging make me kill a n***a blacker than me?” Some people, mainly stupid people, thought that this was a line where Kendrick was confessing to a murder, and a lot of this talk drowned out the actual intention of the line, which was to point out the hypocrisy of lamenting violence while actively participating in it. 

Many cried foul at the timing of the line. Of reverting back to a good ol’ distracting argument about black-on-black crime in the wake of the rising Black Lives Matter movement. Regardless of where you stand on that, the line leaves a little too much to the imagination, and I don’t think it inspired the conversation I think Kendrick was trying to spark.

There’s the communication of the message and the aesthetic of it. The technicality of the rhyme forced upon you by the medium and the need to say something profound. Hip hop funnels you into a weird conundrum of having to find the balance between these things. In Kendrick’s case, he frequently opts for the artistry more than the clarity of the point. Of course he does. Artists tend to, you know… like art. However, this approach comes at a cost. What is made up for in form is lost in function, and even when his intentions are pure, he frequently kneecaps himself and lessens the value of the song as a whole by muddling the message.

Lyrics. They matter.

Kendrick’s Early Career Savior Complex Can Be Grating

My biggest fear is that any of what I’m about to say comes across as some sort of endorsement of substance abuse or that rappers shouldn’t speak out on issues they care about. I would never say that. However, I just spent a whole lot of time in the last section saying that if you’re going to make an argument, you need to make it well.

Let’s put it another way: I don’t do drugs or drink alcohol (save for the occasional glass of wine or champagne). I don’t have a substance abuse problem or anything like that. For me, surrendering control of my thoughts and my body makes me overwhelmingly anxious and it’s not a fun time. I don’t judge others who drink or use drugs. It’s just not for me.

Kendrick very much judges. Or rather he did judge.

Overly Dedicated is arguably the most well-known of Kendrick Lamar’s mixtapes. Sometimes the name of the album is styled O(verly) D(edicated), and the album art features a collage of musicians who either died from overdoses or were known to have issues with substance abuse. Many of the songs on the mixtape are about the perils of drugs, but one in particular always stood out to me. The one being, “H.O.C.” when Kendrick raps about the tribulations of being the only one around who doesn’t smoke. At one point, he raps:

“You telling me the kush make you think on level four

I'm on five, you saying that I can level more

In high school, my teachers thought I was smoking stress

Didn't know my eyes low cause of genetic defects

I stimulate my mind every time I think about the end of time

Creation of man, and Columbine”

Again, artists should say what’s on their minds. But if anyone other than Kendrick went around saying that they don’t need weed because they get high thinking about life, death, and society, my first impulse would be to shove them into a locker.

Later, Kendrick would release the music video for “Bitch, Don’t Kill My Vibe” off of his sophomore album good kid, m.A.A.d city. The music video mostly takes place during a funeral, but the titular vibe is wrong. Everyone’s wearing white instead of the funereal black, and there are multiple times throughout the video where everybody breaks out into celebration with drinking and dancing. The video then ends with a cut to black and text that reads, “Death to Molly,” implying that we’ve been at MDMA’s funeral this whole time and everyone’s celebrating.

To me at least, it cuts the emotionality of the video off at the knees.

Why are we happy at what’s supposed to be a somber event? Why are so many of the funeral rituals being flipped? How does it make me feel? Trying to answer these questions for myself is what initially forged my connection with the video. Then in one fell swoop, all those questions get answered right at the very end by a three word slogan that eliminates all subtext. The experience dies in my head, and then I move on with my life as if nothing happened, all the video’s power gone.

The song that arguably led to Kendrick’s rise to mainstream popularity was “Swimming Pools (Drank),” also off of good kid, m.A.A.d city. It’s a song about alcoholism, abusive drinking, the effects he’s witnessed both of those things have on his family, and how all these experiences haunt him in a moment of intense peer pressure. It’s a good song, and as far as Kendrick’s screeds against substance abuse are concerned, it’s easily one of the most effective.

It’s also one of my least favorite tracks on the album. 

The issue, to me, is that it feels a little too designed for the radio, or some sort of mainstream acceptance. It’s polished and antiseptic to a degree that most of the other songs on the album are not. One could argue that the point of this song was to deliver a darker message in a sleek package, but one could also say that emotionally speaking, the song doesn’t look the problem in the eye. It goes hard, but it doesn’t make you feel it as deeply as you could’ve. Again, you consume it and then you move on.

All the examples I’ve used are about substance abuse, but I don’t think these are the only issue songs where he cuts a little too shallow. Be it the black-on-black crime line in “The Blacker the Berry” or plenty of others in between, he has a tendency to deliver the message in a way that induces cringe and holds me back from fully appreciating what he’s trying to say. 

I liken it to a sixth-grade atheist. The kid on Reddit who gets so off on not believing in god and insulting religion that it makes other non-believers want to smack him. The message may be right, but how you deliver said message has to be right too. 

Maybe this is why I like Mr. Morale so much. It’s an album, after all, about putting his savior complex aside.

I’m Not Always Into What He Does With His Voice

I’ll start with what might be one of my hottest Kendrick takes: I don’t like his delivery on “m.A.A.d city.”

Don’t get me wrong, I love this song. The beat makes me want to tear my shirt off and start fighting people and get my ass kicked by a giant security guard and other embarrassing white dude shit. However, Kendrick’s delivery, to me at least, does not match that energy. One could argue that this is the point. That it’s meant to sound like Kendrick standing in the middle of madness and chaos like a surreal narrator. However, it’s too cerebral of an approach, and I have to fight it in order to get into it.

Kendrick has a tendency to make these kinds of decisions with his vocals. Sometimes they can be incredibly effective. His pseudo drunken delivery on “u” is half the reason that song works and his quiet monotone rapping on “Mother I Sober” forces you to pay attention to what he’s saying and it hits you in the guts.

Honestly, I feel bad for making this an issue because I don’t like making it seem like artists shouldn’t experiment or make left field choices in their vocals. They should, and even if the risk doesn’t pay off it was always worth it. The sad truth however is that sometimes, they don’t pay off. At least not for everyone.

And mainly, I’m talking about the singing on good kid, m.A.A.d. city.

There is nothing I could say to diminish “Bitch, Don’t Kill My Vibe.” I just personally can’t stand how he sings like he’s pinching his nose with his fingers. “The Art of Peer Pressure” is one of the best songs on the album. I also find the way he chooses to sing the intro more distracting than anything else. “Sing About Me, I’m Dying Of Thirst” is my favorite Kendrick Lamar song in general. It took me too long to be able to listen to the chorus and not focus on the awkwardness of his singing.

Again, I understand many of the reasons why he makes these choices, and not just on the good kid, m.A.A.d. city tracks. Sometimes it’s to match the emotion of the song he’s going for and sometimes it’s meant to draw you in with the weirdness or any number of reasons in between. However, a lot of the decisions feel a little too worked for me. I see what he’s trying to do so much that it’s all I can see. I see the mechanism that led up to the decision, but I can’t see the results of the decisions themselves. It’s simply too intrusive. 

I realize that I’m in the minority on this one though.

I Wish He Had More Fun On His Albums

A common criticism of Kendrick I’ve seen a lot of people make over the years is that his guest verses are weak, or at least weak compared the rapping you’ll find on his main albums.

It’s not an unfounded critique, and here’s the part where we roll out his verses on the “Bad Blood” remix and “American Dream” (though that one’s not really a verse) and “The Greatest” and the other usual suspects. I don’t think it should be universally said that all his guest verses are weak. It really depends on what kind of song he’s jumping on. Pop songs typically don’t call for weighty lyricism or gravitas, but get him on something like “Nosetalgia” and he’ll write some of his greatest work. All that said, a lot of the guest verses are, indeed, not the greatest songs in his catalog.

Still, I have a weird impulse to defend them. It’s not that they’re secretly great or anything like that. It’s that his guest verses, at least in the back half of his career thus far, seem to be the only time where he allows himself to have any fun.

Who didn’t love his appearances on both of the tracks on The Melodic Blue? Sure, the “top of the morning” stuff was weird, but I had fun quoting it, as well as all the other weird shit he was doing on “range brothers.” And what’s left to say about “family ties” at this point?

I am a 31 year old man. Yet, I cackle like a teenager every time I hear him giddily say “Pussy!” on “Doves in the Wind.” (I’m specifically referring to the second time he says it, as if enthusiastically answering a question nobody asked.) Say what you want about Kendrick’s guest verses (and for the record, the one on this song’s good), but most of the time he does something creative with his delivery. Again, sometimes it works and sometimes it doesn’t. But I lived through the era of the throwaway Lil Wayne verse. I appreciate the effort.

Let’s take a more serious verse, like his verse on “Control.” I realize that this isn’t a verse most people would call “fun” in the traditional sense. However, after dropping an emotionally hefty album like good kid, m.A.A.d city, it was honestly just nice to watch him be a rappity rapper for a second. To be bombastic and confident and do all the things many seemingly unburdened rappers get to do. 

There’s many other guest verses we could shine a light on. “Collard Greens.” “Kites.” “Really Doe.” “Tints.” The point is that he always sounds like he gets to cut loose a little on these songs. He’s not burdened with carrying a great album across the finish line, so he gets to try new things and be a little more playful. This isn’t universally the case, mind you. He does some more serious work on “Never Catch Me” and “Freedom.” But for the most part, you need to turn to his guest work to hear him relax a little.

I mention all this because a lot of his albums are very self-serious. This is not a problem, mind you. Despite the fact that there are some of his albums I like more than others, he’s never made an album I outright didn’t like. Clearly it works for me. However, he clearly has a side to him that’s a little more jovial, and I’d like to see him explore that side.

Sometimes, you can see it. “Backseat Freestyle” and “HUMBLE.” and two of the most prominent examples. And hey, everybody loves those songs! More importantly, there’s an argument to be made that songs like those two stand out because they’re surrounded by more weighty material. If one were to make that argument, I’d even agree with it. 

Still, I like watching him have fun, and I don’t like the idea of him, or any artist, feeling like they only have to strive for profundity every time they put something out. People’s lighter sides are just as valid as the side that propels them towards the darkness. Or to put it another way, Beyoncé put out Lemonade and then she put out Renaissance. Both are fantastic albums, and while the latter may not have changed the landscape the way the former did, I think it’s safe to say that it’s also beloved.

I’m not saying I want Kendrick to put out a dance pop album. I’m saying that I think he’s capable of making incredible music that doesn’t feel the world is on his shoulders, and I’d love to see that album from him someday.