Introduction

“I live inside the belly of the rough, Compton, USA / Made me an angel on angel dust” (Duckworth et al., 2012, track 8), Kendrick Lamar raps as his character in his “short film” long playing good kid, m.A.A.d city, also Kendrick, is assaulted “over a bitch” (Duckworth & T. Williams, 2012, track 9). Lamar paints this violent image of Compton as the general environment in which Kendrick lives – or more accurately – survives. Through the use of “thick narrative descriptions of life” (McLeod, Jr., 2017, p. 123), Lamar, in his music, is able to portray realistic, relatable characters, facing the struggle of living life in Compton. Analyzing Lamar’s album through a multitude of lenses, one can observe how effectively Lamar utilized different narrative styles as well as different symbolism and discursiveness to create a trans-political, yet very in-your-face racial, yet relatable album. In addressing a “traumatic history” á la King (2008), utilizing “Godly rhetoric” as per Black (2009), Lamar is able to re-signify and reconstitute blackness, via Nakayama & Krizek (1995) in a white America.

Please note that from hereafter, “Kendrick” refers to the character in the album, while “Lamar” refers to the rapper.

Critical Analysis

Pregnant Death and Resurrection

In the cinematic climax of Lamar’s “short film”, Kendrick’s “homie”, Dave, is killed in a shootout (Duckworth & T. Williams, 2012, track 9), leading to an existentialist confrontation within Kendrick. The rest of his crew poses two divergent paths to Dave’s brother, now tasked with the responsibility of the aftermath of his brother’s death. In a respite skit, they ask: “So, what we gon’ do, my nggas? What we gon’ do? Bro, we can go back right now, my ngga. Like, I don’t give a fuck, my n*gga. We can go back right now!” (Duckworth et al., 2012, track 10). This dreadful situation is not a rarity in Compton, CA. Constant violence within the city is a consistent theme addressed throughout the album, but despite the inherent travesty of living in constant fear of “the spectre of death” (McLeod, Jr., 2017, p. 124), the cinematic setting presents the opportunity for Lamar to address the “traumatic history” (King, 2008, p. 308) of not only growing up in Compton, but the whole idea of being black in any number of cities in America. King (2008) explains the benefits of “replaying” traumatic events, offering a new opportunity to “remedy” these traumas (p. 308). Throughout the first half of “Sing About Me, I’m Dying of Thirst”, Lamar raps from a variety of perspectives of others living in Compton, such as from a prostitute whose sister, also a prostitute, had died working (Duckworth et al., 2012, track 10). Haile (2018) argues that Lamar is “blurring the lines between a story, my story, and the story of another” (p. 490) in order to invoke empathy, understanding, and compassion. Throughout the entirety of the “short film”, Lamar presents unique perspectives to senseless violence and black suffering in Compton, and Kendrick is presented with guidance and opportunities to break free of the ceaseless cycle.

Throughout the second half of “Sing About Me, I’m Dying of Thirst”, Kendrick faces the realization that he and his city need salvation. Lamar sings, “Too many sins, I’m runnin’ out / Somebody send me a well for the drought” (Duckworth et al., 2012, track 10). King (2008) discusses the concept of “pregnant death”, prescribing “sacrifice... to save others, translating death into rebirth and traumatic loss into regeneration” (p. 316). With the physical death of Kendrick’s friend, Dave, Kendrick and his homies are presented with their metaphysical deaths, offering an opportunity to escape from the street lifestyle. It is critical, additionally, to reinforce the traumatic nature of their environment. Love (2016) argues that Kendrick’s city is a “co-conspirator in gang violence and drugs” (p. 320). Not only do Kendrick and his homies achieve religious salvation by affirming their faith in God (Duckworth et al., 2012, track 10), but Lamar offers salvation from the nature of their toxic environment.

Kendrick and his homies, at the end of “Sing About Me, I’m Dying of Thirst” are confronted by a religious woman, and she tells them that they have to be baptized to start their “real” life (Duckworth & Martin, 2012, track 11). In order to break the cycle of death and violence in their dangerous environment, Kendrick and his associates need to give up the “shenanigans” (Duckworth et al., 2012, track 8). As a part of their salvation, they must “soften” their masculinity – a part of their identity, retaliating and maintaining face – Kendrick’s friends quote Jay-Z’s “Trap or Die”, “Last time I checked, I was the man on these streets!” (Duckworth et al., 2012, track 4) = for a “regeneration of community” (King, 2008, p. 317). This, however, segues into Lamar’s usage of Godly rhetoric throughout his salvation from Compton, and will be further expanded upon.

Godly Rhetoric

Kendrick’s salvation from Compton is deeply rooted in Lamar’s salvation through Christ. Lamar raps, “What are we doin’? Who are we foolin’? / Hell is hot, fire is proven / To burn for eternity / Return of the student / That never learned how to live righteous but how to shoot it” and “What if today was the rapture and you completely tarnished? / The truth will set you free, so to me be completely honest / You dyin’ of thirst, you dyin’ of thirst / So hop in that water, and pray that it works” (Duckworth et al., 2012, track 10). Black (2009) describes the usage of “godly” rhetoric for “self-assertions of character” (p. 566). In transcending the physical world for the metaphysical Heaven as part of his self-sacrifice for salvation, Kendrick “counteracts the anxiety he experienced in Compton by arriving at a self-affirmation rooted in... God transcendent” (Linder, 2017, p. 108). In other words, in “Sing About Me, I’m Dying of Thirst”, “God interjected hope” (Linder, 2017, p. 108).

The godliness of Kendrick and the residents of Compton is highlighted throughout the album. Lamar, in his lyrics, is combatting the typical ideograph of blackness in a white-dominant society. He raps, “The matter is racial profile / I heard ‘em chatter: ‘He’s prob’ly young, but I know that he’s down / Step on his neck as hard as your bulletproof vest / He don’t mind, he knows we’ll never respect / The good kid, m.A.A.d city” (Duckworth & P. Williams, 2012, track 7). Kendrick has to navigate being labelled “savage” in a white-dominant culture that constantly puts him at threat (Black, 2009, p. 566). Lamar’s belief is that “God himself was oppressed and battered on the cross of Christ, God, therefore, is for oppressed and battered black bodies (Linder, 2017, p. 107). Kendrick represents all the other good kids from mad cities, facing not only the violence from gangs and drugs, but from the law and law enforcement, and he represents the godliness of all black Americans facing these struggles.

Kendrick is presented an opportunity to change society for white and black people with death of his friend. Kendrick turns to God and attains salvation, but his friend, Dave’s brother, cannot escape his masculinity – “This Piru shit been in me forever / So forever I’ma push it, wherever, whenever” – and is killed while retaliating (Duckworth et al., 2012, track 10). But Kendrick denounces this, and he stays on his new course, saving his opportunity to not only repent, but to fulfill his godly covenant.

Reflexivity

In listening to the rap music of Kendrick Lamar, one cannot escape being confronted with what it means to be black in America. From run-ins with police, gangs, and societal expectations of being black, even white listeners cannot “buffer” (Nakayama & Krizek, 1995, p. 530) themselves from American blackness. Kendrick, throughout the album, makes irresponsible decisions, but, considering the environment and the positions that Kendrick experiences, would not one else make those decisions? As well, according to Haile (2018), the goal of Lamar’s autoethnographic methodology is “to generate socially informed embedded knowledge” (p. 491), especially within the dominant white culture.

Not only does Lamar question and critique the dominant white culture, he also articulates black American social positions, at the same time as providing a framework for black American knowledge, á la Nakayama & Krizek (1995, p. 530). According to Haile (2018), “Africana philosophy is more than just a corrective to the gaps in Anglo-American and European intellectual models – it is, itself, a fundamental approach to knowledge from which all philosophical forms can learn” (p. 490). Lamar is providing a sanctified, official, sacred text from which Africana philosophy can be derived, and it has knowledge from which we can and should learn.

Conclusion

In the cinematic journey that is good kid, m.A.A.d city, Kendrick Lamar tells a story that poses more questions than it answers. Namely, what should we learn? Analyzing through the lenses of King (2008), Black (2009), and Nakayama & Krizek (1995), it becomes clear. Lamar sings, “And your sister’s situation was the one that pulled me / In a direction to speak on somethin’ / That’s realer than the TV screen” (Duckworth et al., 2012, track 10). Lamar is the ethnographer, and he wants to see change in Compton and in black America. By reaching salvation in the album, Kendrick provides affirmation through god of blackness to “empower and uplift” the community (Linder, 2017, p. 109). But has his album done anything for black Americans? But, maybe, that question itself is negated by the right of black people to simply exist, with no relation to or agenda for or against white people, and Lamar’s album does not have to do anything for black Americans, because it is already doing something for Compton: telling its’ story.

References

Black, J. E. (2009). Native resistive rhetoric and the decolonization of American Indian removal discourse. In C. R. Burgchardt & H. A. Jones (Eds.), Readings in Rhetorical Criticism (5th Ed., pp. 555-573). State College, PA: Strata Publishing.

Duckworth, K. and Martin, T. (2012). Real (featuring Anna Wise of Sonnymoon). On good kid, m.A.A.d city [LP]. Santa Monica, CA: Interscope Records.

Duckworth, K., Rask, R., and Vesetergaard, J. (2012) The Art of Peer Pressure. On good kid, m.A.A.d city [LP]. Santa Monica, CA: Interscope Records.

Duckworth, K., Spears, M., Riera, R., Morgan, A., and Tyler, A. (2012). m.A.A.d city (featuring M.C. Eiht). On good kid, m.A.A.d city [LP]. Santa Monica, CA: Interscope Records.

Duckworth, K., Stevenson, G., Hutchins, D., Jones, Q., Bergman, A., and Bergman, M. (2012). Sing About Me, I’m Dying of Thirst. On good kid, m.A.A.d city [LP]. Santa Monica, CA: Interscope Records.

Duckworth, K. and Williams, P. (2012). good kid. On good kid, m.A.A.d city [LP]. Santa Monica, CA: Interscope Records.

Duckworth, K. and Williams, T. (2012) Swimming Pools (Drank). On good kid, m.A.A.d city [LP]. Santa Monica, CA: Interscope Records.

Haile III, J. B. (2018). Good kid, m.A.A.d. city: Kendrick Lamar’s autoethnographic method. The Journal of Speculative Philosophy, 32(3), pp. 488-498.

King, C. S. (2008). Rogue waves, remakes, and resurrections: Allegorical displacement and screen memory in Poseidon. In C. R. Burgchardt & H. A. Jones (Eds.), Readings in Rhetorical Criticism (5th Ed., pp. 306-327). State College, PA: Strata Publishing.

Linder, M. (2017). “Am I worth it?”: The forgiveness, death, and resurrection of Kendrick Lamar. Toronto Journal of Theology, 33(1), pp. 107-112. doi: dx.doi.org/10.3138.tjt.2016-0020

Love, B. L. (2016). Good kids, mad cities: Kendrick Lamar and finding inner resistance in response to FergusonUSA. Cultural Studies and Critical Methodologies, 16(3), pp. 320-323. doi: dx.doi.org/10.1177/1532708616634837

McLeod, Jr., J. D. (2017). If god got us: Kendrick Lamar, Paul Tillich, and the advent of existentialist hip hop. Toronto Journal of Theology, 33(1), pp. 123-135. doi: dx.doi.org/10.3138/tjt.2017-0006

Nakayama, T. K. and Krizek, R. L. (1995). Whiteness: A strategic rhetoric. In C. R. Burgchardt & H. A. Jones (Eds.), Readings in Rhetorical Criticism (5th Ed., pp. 518-536). State College, PA: Strata Publishing.