Kendrick Lamar flows into hip-hop like molten lava

All eyes in hip-hop have been riveted on Kendrick Lamar since his 2012 debut. Lamar sent shockwaves through the genre by ditching themes of self-aggrandizement and instead painting passionate sketches of an average kid trying to survive tough times. The everyman persona, told with a keen eye and quick tongue, bowled over audiences and critics and won Lamar instant worldwide fame.

His latest project, To Pimp A Butterfly, breaks the mold yet again, leading Rolling Stone to declare Lamar, “straight up owns rap relevancy … whatever challengers to the throne barely visible in his dusty rear-view.” The album reveals Lamar taking stock of his bewildering rise into a world of power brokers and glitterati filled with adulation and an agenda. Many want to harness his gifts and manipulate them for their own ends—to take this “butterfly” and, in effect, pimp him. The result is a maelstrom of brilliant, angry, paranoid poetics set atop fiery jazz and soul grooves.

The first few songs show Lamar wrestling with the mixed legacy of America—a land that offers freedom but on its own terms. In “Wesley’s Theory” a character named Uncle Sam offers Lamar help—not so much out of respect but because of what can be gained through Lamar: “I see the dollar in you / the borrow in you.” Lamar isn’t sanguine about change through politics, either, and in another song likens the major parties to rival gangs of “DemoCrips and ReBloodlicans.”

Even the hip-hop community takes pot shots at him, but Lamar starts to flex his muscles in “King Kunta” (a reference to the African slave made famous in Roots). A funky bass owns the space as Lamar hits back at the rap community by outing their derivative patterns and dirty secrets: “I can dig rapping but a rapper with a ghost writer … oh no I swore I wouldn’t tell / but most of y’all share bars like you got the bottom bunk in a two man cell.”

Stripped down drums set a war footing in “The Blacker The Berry” as Lamar throws punch after punch at irrational racism: “You hate my people / your plan is to terminate my culture … I want you to recognize that I’m a proud monkey / you vandalize my perception but you can’t take style from me.” Lamar also challenges those who espouse black pride but ignore the de facto racism of black-on-black violence: “Why do I weep when Trayvon Martin was in the street / when gangbanging make me kill [someone] blacker than me.”

Most poignant, however, is when Lamar recognizes himself as his own worst enemy. Others want to use him, but Lamar also sees how he wants to pimp himself—to manipulate his gifts for foolish self-gratification instead of the greater good. The confessional song “U” begins with a scream as free-jazz horns amplify his disorientation over bad choices.

Lamar’s sense of culpability is consistent with his avowed religious views. He told The New York Times he got saved as a teenager, “after one of my homeboys got smoked.” He also explained that for his fans, “I’m the closest thing to a preacher that they have … my word will never be as strong as God’s words. All I am is just a vessel, doing His work.”

But make no mistake: Lamar is explicit with a capital “E.” He uses profanity, violence, and sexual language in symbolic ways, but their sheer abundance is surprising and disturbing. To Pimp A Butterfly shows an extremely talented young man trying to find his way in art, faith, and life. Like molten lava, his ideas are intense, burning, full of creative destruction, and, above all, in flux. They are both fascinating to behold, but watch out.