There are
plenty of people these days that aren’t exactly fond of hip-hop and rap music
and culture. Much of this can be traced to the mature subjects and lines that
come with this type of music. Hip-hop isn’t going to change because of this,
and the main reason is because those are staples of the genre. From its beginnings
in the burrows of New York and in the streets of Los Angeles, rap has been a
common ground for artists to input references about drugs, alcohol, and sex.
The childhoods of these early artists held violence, abuse, and hardship and
that first generation of rappers turned hip-hop into a way to vent about social
issues or bring back memories of the trials they faced at a younger age. Rappers coming out of Compton had, at least
from what their music presents, a lot of experience with these concepts. One
such rapper that has emerged in the last few years is Kendrick Lamar.
Kendrick’s family experienced the threat of violence often while living in Compton, yet Kendrick
seemed to take it in as inspiration for stories or poems, which would
eventually turn to lyrics. Kendrick’s debut album, released with the help of
Dr. Dre’s record company Aftermath Entertainment, “good kid, m.A.A.d city”
dropped in 2012 and it was a big deal. For an up and coming rapper, Lamar received
support from around the hip-hop community and that album would eventually
become Soul Train Music Award for
Album of the Year and BET Hip Hop Award for Best Album of the Year in 2013, in
addition to being a nominee for Grammy Award for Album of the Year in 2014.
Unlike many hip-hop albums of the
day, “good kid, m.A.A.d city” follows the older formats and styles of rap
culture: it’s focused on the message of the whole album, meaning every song is
meant to play along with each of the other tracks. Rather than being 9 or so
mediocre tracks that back up a few hit singles, Kendrick’s debut album follows
his personal mission to make a story and picture out of all of the songs on the
“tape.” This could be the reason why he subtitled his album “A Short Film by
Kendrick Lamar.” His tracks are audial puzzle pieces that are arranged, in this
case, to retell his past experiences and hardships through the lens of a
cinematic experience. In an interview with XXL, Lamar said that it was strange
for him to think that his music was able to speak to people, just by him
rapping about his past. As he says in the interview, “I’d be lying to you to say I knew
“good kid, m.A.A.d city” would be as successful as it has been. In the
beginning I was very doubtful” (XXL Staff Article, Writer At War: Kendrick
Lamar’s XXL Cover Story). His uncertainty of this album’s future is a common
theme in the hip-hop world: not every album or mixtape is going to succeed. It
may take years, or it could take a couple weeks for an artist’s work to blow
up, or to not even scratch the surface of popularity. The genre is difficult to get into,
because not just anyone can emerge from the underground, like how “good kid,
m.A.A.d city” did. Granted, it helped that Kendrick got lined up with Aftermath Entertainment, but to get to that point, he had to rise through all of the underneath rap to get that kind of attention. This just adds to Kendrick’s credibility as a young writer
and performer. “good kid, m.A.A.d city” is a quality example of how hip hop tells something more meaningful, beyond the generic norms and references that I referenced in the intro.
Although
this album is mostly known for a handful of its tracks, the work as a whole
contains the true scheme of Kendrick’s tale. Individual parts to the story may
be more memorable or exciting, but every piece assists the proper telling of
the tale at hand. Lamar starts his album off by bringing back the memory of a
girl he met and knew in his later teens, named Sherane. He recalls the time he
met her, and also the time when some guys harassed him and threatened for going
to that side of town to see her, in “Sherane a.k.a Master Splinter’s Daughter.”
Kendrick uses Sherane as a centering
topic of the album, through the skits or through the 3 songs dedicated to her,
including the sixth song, “Poetic Justice.” This song is all about Sherane and
the way she made 17 year old Kendrick feel. The third song where Sherane plays
a larger role is in “Swimming Pools (Drank).” The song goes back to the first
time Kendrick and Sherane met, at a pool party, and it elaborates on the house
party he raps about in the first track. The dynamic between these two gives
Kendrick, or K. Dot, leverage with his homies because he has a girl, but also
gets him caught up with the guys on Sherane’s side of town.
While
Kendrick is laying out his story about riding around and doing hoodrat stuff
with his friends and hooking up with Sherane, his mom leaves him quite a few
messages about wanting her mini van back, always in the skits at the end of the
tracks. It is really impressive to see where Lamar gets his influences, especially through these voice messages. His mother serves as a voice of reason throughout the piece and is a supporter of his musical endeavors, even though she really just wants her car back. In the background of these calls, you hear Kendrick’s dad in a high and
craving some amphetamines, or dominoes (“Money Trees” and “Sherane a.k.a Master
Splinter’s Daughter”), which plays as another influence for Kendrick. The influence of drugs usually finds its way into rap,
but rather than ignoring this reality of his home life, Kendrick acknowledges it and makes the concept
almost comical, with the comic relief that his father adds to the skits. This
isn’t the only reference to drugs in his story. In “The Art of Peer Pressure,” Lamar
says, “Usually I’m drug-free, but shit I’m with the homies.” In “good
kid” Kendrick blames his failure to stay sober on the city around him, claiming
to be the only innocent and good kid in a city clouded by madness, hence the
name of the album good kid, m.A.A.d city. These two tracks are the true centerpiece
of the album, because they join the clouded, hoodie image of K. Dot and the
“good kid,” Kendrick Lamar. The nickname K. Dot is tethered to the things that
he and his friends would do, like rob houses (“The Art of Peer Pressure” and
“Money Trees”) and send shots at people who had done them wrong (“Swimming
Pools (Drank)”). After their friend Dave is shot, K. Dot and his boys realize
the mistakes they’ve been making and repent, asking for forgiveness from God.
This is the main premise of “Sing About Me, I’m Dying of Thirst:”a thirst for
Holy Water, the desire to be renewed.
This revitalization of Kendrick reflects a trend used
by other artists in the genre, including my last post’s subject Childish
Gambino. Artists use an album or, in Kendrick’s case, an event to change who
they are or what their purpose will be. The shift from K. Dot to the real
Kendrick is a lesson that listeners use as inspiration to get past dark parts
of their lives. In that XXL article, Kendrick brought up how fans would come up
to him and say his music saved their lives, and was the reason why they didn’t
end their own lives. This is what hip-hop is capable of, as a genre and community
and Kendrick, whether he intends to do it or not, was and is able to tell his
story in such a way that can help someone else. The way he crafted his story
was choppy in terms of the chronology, yet he did it in such a way so that he
could get across the influences of family and God in his situation and in his
life. The “good kid” from Compton continues to compose himself as he once did
before fame, and as he continues to put his work out and get more attention,
Kendrick Lamar will always be influenced by those experiences of his childhood,
as are many of today’s artists. I hope to see more content like Kendrick’s in
the future that bring out stories presented through the flow of the album that
bring out the rapper’s experiences that, in turn, will help the next wave of
hip-hop supporters find some form of closure or support in their lives.
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