Hyperbolic statements are hardly rare in hip-hop, thanks to its culture of ego and oneupmanship. So it was little surprise this year saw Rick Ross and A$AP Rocky claiming to have made history. But the hip-hop album of the year came from an unexpected quarter: Kendrick Lamar.
This extraordinary coming-of-age album – following last year's Section 80 mixtape – tracked his growth from teenage gangsta-in-the-making to clean-living penitent. The cover shows a photograph of him as a child, setting the tone for a record that took us through his life. The "mad city" is his hometown of Compton, California. On the album's final track, named for the city, he collaborates with another Comptonite, Dr Dre, in what might be a symbolic passing of the SoCal hip-hop baton.
On first listen you could be forgiven for writing this off as a one-dimensional cloud-rap offering. The hazy, ethereal beatscapes designed for dope smokers (though Lamar rarely partakes, it's probably not news his fans are partial to a puff) certainly support that view, but for all the lulling basslines and languid drawls, it is the rich sexuality of tracks such as Poetic Justice or dance-ready injections on Swimming Pools (Drank), as Lamar barks stern instructions on how to drink properly ("You fill a pool full of liquor and you dive in it") that show off his rich talents as a songwriter and producer.
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From the opening prayer on Sherane to the skits that run throughout the album, which feature fragments of his mother's voice offering warnings against temptation, Lamar creates a detailed narrative of the moral dilemma facing the good kid placed in a mad city with all its lures.
Lamar is a playful and conscious observer with a huge ego: after all, what is a hip-hop album without it? His braggadocio is thrilling (we hear him rap about himself and Martin Luther King in the same breath in Backseat Freestyle), and he throws in the euphoria of youth when he boasts about having a "dick as big as the Eiffel Tower". And while it might seem too early on in his career to be making a track that refers so specifically to his legacy (Sing About Me, I'm Dying of Thirst), soberly urging us to sing about him when he's gone ("When the light shine off and its my turn to settle down, my main concern/ Promise that you will sing about me"), it is that willingness to do the unexpected that shows his sophistication as a rapper. Both the young Kendrick, dreaming up a monster penis, and the mature one, ruminating on how he'll be remembered, sound utterly convincing.
Lamar has taken tropes from classic rap albums to make something that felt as exciting as Dr Dre's 2001 more than a decade ago. Here was proof that Compton's contribution to hip-hop history continues.
Kendrick Lamar - Swimming Pools (Drank) on MUZU.TV.
