Lyrical Rap

Kendrick Lamar – DAMN.

Good Kid, m.A.A.d. City, Kendrick Lamar’s 2012 narrative concept album, was, besides far and away the strongest album in a strong year, the second rap album I ever got into (the first belongs, perhaps surprisingly, to Earl Sweatshirt’s Doris).  After a few listens, I proclaimed, to no one but myself, really, that Kendrick was the best rapper of all time, and that GKMC was something like The Beatles’ Revolver – so far above every other contemporary album that nothing else even registered as competition.  Clearly this was a brazen position, but after following up with 2015’s consensus album of the year (To Pimp a Butterfly) and now DAMN., which is sure to top many a 2017 year-end list, I feel pretty darn smarmy and pretentious as I watch writers and critics start to gingerly test the waters of ‘greatest of all time’ claims.  To me, DAMN. is Kendrick saying ‘hey, I don’t need an 80 minute concept album to still kick the shit out of every other rapper out there.  I can do what y’all do better than you can, but you can’t even touch what I put out when I’m on my game.”  Thus, DAMN. isn’t a masterpiece the way Kendrick’s last two LPs were, but it’s still the best rap record to come out since his last one.

As many have pointed out before me, just because DAMN. doesn’t hit you over the head with one big, central concept doesn’t mean its at all lacking in themes or motifs.  Just look the all caps, single word track listing evocative of the seven deadly sins or ten commandments.  Songs like “LOVE” and “LUST” or “HUMBLE” and “PRIDE” aren’t sequenced next to each other by accident.  This is an album about the wide range of emotions Kendrick feels after sitting on top of the rap world for nearly half a decade now, contextualized by his status as an influential black man in post-Black Lives Matter, post-Trump America.  It’s political because being Kendrick Lamar in 2017 is inherently political.  It’s dark and maddening, revealing and honest – a glimpse behind the curtain at a rapper who most prominently shows himself through relaying the stories and experiences of others.  “Niggas thought they wasn’t gonna see me, huh? / Niggas thought that K-Dot real life was the same life they see on TV, huh?” he confirms on “ELEMENT”.

Each of these tracks tackles an aspect of Kendrick’s complex personality represented by the title.  On the aggressive thumping “DNA” he flashes boasts tracing back to his African roots – “I got loyalty, got royalty inside my DNA”, but also makes mention of the violence his family tree has witnessed “I know murder conviction / Scholars, fathers dead with kids / Yeah yeah, soldier’s DNA”.  On “PRIDE” he checks himself and the relationship between his actions and intentions – “I wouldn’t blame you for mistakes I made or the bed I laid / Seems like I point the finger just to make a point nowadays”, but he follows up with “HUMBLE”, the album’s single and biggest banger, in which he instructs every other rapper (*cough Drake cough*) to “Sit down, little bitch, be humble.”  Kendrick is perceptive and introspective enough to rip his own flaws out of them and display them under a bright light like a science experiment, but still human enough to revert back to his own greed for unilateral recognition as the best rapper alive.

The production all over the album is excellent.  The choruses and hooks often feature guest soul singers and see Kendrick dipping into one of the many voices he commands (high pitched, slurred, low and drugged, robotic), effectively creating a subconscious backdrop to the true Kendrick present on the verses.  The arrangements are more minimal and straightforward than much of To Pimp a Butterfly, but I think that only serves to strengthen the tracks, focusing them more singularly around Kendrick’s voice on the album on which he delves the deepest into himself.  Accordingly, there are no guest verses (just Rihanna, Zacari and Bono on three of the hooks).  The low key, chilled-out tracks like “YAH” and “FEAR” (which refer to one another) ride great slide guitar riffs, spacey, echoing vocals and 90s boom-bap beats.  “HUMBLE” and “DNA” hit harder than just about everything since Danny Brown’s last album, and they don’t really make any attempt to conform to the trap zeitgeist.  The Bono feature, “XXX”, goes over way better than anyone probably expected (which was probably a bad bet – it is Kendrick, after all).  “ELEMENT”‘s hook of “Imma make it look sexy,” is already a universal catchphrase.  Even the ‘corny’ love song that takes a break from harrowing self-surgery rides a sweet, catchy hook and Akon inspired flow that would have been a top five single for someone like Drake. (Sidenote: does anyone else miss Akon?)  In short, Kendrick can do any style, any tempo, and any aesthetic better than anyone else can, and on DAMN. he manages to do it while simultaneously peering deeper into his soul than Drake’s managed on all six of his albums combined.

No review of DAMN. would be complete without mention of “DUCKWORTH”, the final track.  This is a story song in the truest sense – it’s the true story of Kendrick’s father meeting Anthony “Top Dawg” Tiffith, the owner of the record label that’s had his back since the beginning.  Kendrick flashes legendary story-telling skills for only a single track, but it’s enough to recognize just how far he’s come since GKMC.  How many internal rhymes are in “That’s when affiliation was really eight gears of war / So many relatives tellin us, sellin us devilish works / Killin us, crime, intelligent, felonious, prevalent proposition with 9’s”?  How does he manage in four lines (“Southside Projects, Chiraq, the Terror Dome / Drove to California with woman on him and 500 dollars / They had a son, hopin that he’d see college / Hustlin’ on the side with a nine-to-five to freak it”) to do justice to one young man’s courageous life-changing decision?  How does he have the vision to foresee his life’s alternate path (“Because if Anthony killed Ducky, Top Dawg would be servin’ life / While I grew up without a father and die in a gunfight”) and then tie that all back to the album’s introduction, where Kendrick is killed, perhaps rendering the entire record a concept album after all?  Because it’s fucking Kendrick Lamar, the best rapper of all time.

Score:  12/13




Run the Jewels – Run the Jewels 3

Run The Jewels became the first major artist to drop an album in 2017 by technically dropping it in 2016, as a surprise Christmas release (although I don’t think anyone’s going to retroactively edit their year end lists, so for all intents and purposes this is a 2017 release).  So why is the duo, composed of Atlanta’s Killer Mike and New York’s El-P, a big deal?  Well they’ve put out two consistent, aggressive, intelligent rap albums (the aptly titled RTJ1 and 2), the latter of which was Pitchfork’s top album of 2014 (which was by far the weakest year of the decade – I mean, the consensus best album was… The War on Drugs?).  Their whole shtick is that they give no fucks, their brags are self-aware and funny, their flows are hard hitting and aggressive and relentless, their production is pulverizing, etc etc.  And they’re also both over 40, so that’s pretty cool.  Some would probably even call them the second best hip hop act out there (after Kendrick of course).  So they’re a big deal, the album is a big deal.

RTJ3 is, in a word, unsurprising.  It sounds exactly like RTJ have always sounded.  It sounds like RTJ1 and like RTJ2, so the name is once again apt.  El-P’s production is great as usual (if not a bit homogenous), the flows are fast and never ending, the brags are aggressive.  Not 20 seconds goes by without a verse, the tracks rattle off one after another without a moment of pause.  There are exactly two featured rappers (a below average verse from the incredibly above average Danny Brown and another uncredited one from Zach De La Rocha at the very very end), otherwise it’s just an El- and Mike-athon.  But despite being exactly what you’d expect and likely what everyone wanted, I’m feeling pretty ‘meh’ about this record.

Oh but HR it’s Run the fucking Jewels!  You can’t call them ‘meh’!  They’re the best!  They’re so aggressive!  They’re so sick of your bullshit!  I get it.  But they were that in 2014, too.  I guess I wanted them to change things up.  I thought that maybe this would be the album that Run the Jewels would get political, seeing as how Killer Mike was a Bernie surrogate, but aside from socially conscious one liners and a fleeting reference to Trump (though honestly I’d be surprised if a single rap album came out in 2017 that didn’t reference Trump), this album isn’t any more political than RTJ1 or 2.  I thought maybe it would be the album where they try to weave in some kind of coherent story line, or talk about their newfound fame in a unique and interesting way, or get really personal (which they actually do on the final two tracks), but no – for the most part, RTJ are still just talking about how big their dicks are.

But HR!  Doesn’t a mediocre RTJ track still kick the shit out of every wannabe Drake’s best song?  Yeah, I guess so.  So then don’t 14 RTJ tracks kick the shit out of every wannabe Drake album?  Not necessarily.  51 minutes of El and Mike aggressively and intelligently bragging about how good they are at rapping just feels less compelling and less interesting than inconsistent but unique records by ‘lesser’ rappers like Swet Shop Boys or Mac Miller, no matter how professional and consistent those 51 minutes may be.  And at that point I’d rather just listen to RTJ2.

Another thing that strikes me is that there isn’t a notable banger or obvious single.  I mean, they’re sort of all bangers, and I really wouldn’t be surprised if any one track was supposed to be the single, but nothing grabs me the way ‘Jeopardy‘ or ‘Blockbuster Night’ did off RTJ2.  There are certainly impressive moments (I like Mike’s super quick tempo at the end of ‘Call Ticketron‘, which I find myself enjoying more and more despite a pretty obnoxious hook), but even picking which songs are my favorites is difficult because they all feel so similar.  The song structures are frequently identical [Mike/El verse -> hook -> El/Mike verse -> hook] and lyrically they don’t really stick to one consistent theme (save for the standout ‘Thursday in the Danger Room‘ right at the end, a very personal meditation on the death of friends and family), and so I find myself choosing which tracks I like better based solely on how much I like the hook (none of which I love).

I’m sure this album will garner critical acclaim, including Pitchfork’s best new music honors (my guess is 8.6) alongside an 8 from Needle Drop, and not undeservedly so; if you’ve never heard Run the Jewels before, you’ll very likely be extremely impressed.  But I don’t think I’m greedy for wanting something new and different from what we’ve come to expect with this project, seeing as how there are no shortage of hip hop releases from talented artists experimenting with new ideas. Essentially, I’d rather have seen RTJ try something new and come up short of their previous work than just write the same ten songs for the third time.

Score: 9/13