takes on an ambitious concept, guiding us through Kendrick’s psyche, with his longtime partner Whitney Alford as narrator. The ever jazz-influenced artist is diligent in the sonic progression through his subconscious. The album finds a space between-style hurriedness and intentional dissonance. Most songs are cut into one, or three, different beats, giving individual songs the kind of narrative texture you’d expect from a full album.
Throughout the record, lush, Quiet Storm grooves collide and commingle with bass-y drums and subtle electronic flourishes. The pianos on the Summer Walker and Ghostface Killah-assisted “Purple Hearts” sound like what love feels like, proffering a subtle, sparkling backdrop to sensation. This partially comes from an overabundance of producers on the project. On moments like “Silent Hill,” produced by Beach Noise, Jahaan Sweet, Boi-1da & Sounwave, it works.
The album struggles to balance moments of political inquiry with its tender, emotional sensibility. On “N95” we find Kendrick in a familiar posture, admitting to hypocrisy as if admission were absolution. “What the fuck is cancel culture,” he bemoans, seemingly for no reason other than to check the concept off a box. The same approach muddies an already complicated moment like “Auntie Diaries.
The same could be said for “Father Time,” which paints too clean a line from one trauma to the next. The song opens with Alford and Lamar debating the merits of therapy before she suggests he “reach out to Eckhart,” as in spiritual teacher Eckhart Tolle.
It could win album of the year
album's crap
This review needs review
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