Mr. Morale and the Big Steppers

“Writer’s block for 2 years nothing moved me. Asked God to speak through me. That’s what you hearing now, the voice of yours truly.”

“Mr. Morale & The Big Steppers” was arguably one of the most anticipated pieces of art within the last 15 years. Hip-hop influenced the internet to weave both halves of its brain together so we could interpret the expressions of one man’s heart and consciousness.

​From 2010’s “Overly Dedicated,” through 2017’s mainstream undertake, “DAMN,” and TDE curating the soundtrack for 2018’s Marvel film and insignia of Black America, “Black Panther,” Kendrick Lamar has progressed his way through Hip-hop over the years with the heart of his fans tightly in his clutch.

Stories told through good art are usually remembered well.

His compositions have always been portraits toned with untiring displays of emotion and bursts of lyrical swordplay. Within the last 5 years, he’s maintained distance with merely guest appearances and scattered performances. The most recent was Coachella in April of this year following the historical Super Bowl Halftime show back in February, hosted by west-coast legends and other Hip-Hop trailblazers with Mary J Blige present. He was also heard alongside rap legend, Busta Rhymes, on his 2020 project, “Extinction Level Event 2: The Wrath of God.”

Kendrick has transitioned from being purely a Compton-bred MC to persisting as both Hub City’s and Hip-Hop’s novelist.

Notable for grainy and unpretentious album covers, or interludes and skits that are so pivotal to the development of his projects that they play, symbolically, as staples holding together the pages of a book. Kendrick’s artwork has always felt more like timeless literary texts than solely rap music. Although, both of these things can dwell in the same home. His music has assisted him in blurring the line between the realm of rap craftsmanship and the groves of Academe— what we merely hear, and what we study.

Evocative storytelling skills and artful lyricism have helped Kendrick’s black-boy, Compton-raps obscure the line bisecting classroom lectures and park-bench freestyles.

It speaks volumes when an artist abandons the usual method of album rollouts and promotional stratagems. Fans anticipated hearing from Kendrick enough that hiding traces of his project in enigmatic dark-colored files or online clues didn’t lessen the number of listeners his music would receive.

Review

We tend to deify Kendrick given how ethereal and abstract his art is and the deeply religious undertone of his music. But we are continually reminded of the humanity of artists. Although laced with exceptional rapping, this project was less of the lyrical master we experienced on “DAMN,” “Kung Fu Kenny,” and more of, “my life is like 12 open mics of hopeless notes I write.”

This was the most we’ve ever seen Kendrick bleed. His rhymes are usually entwined with lyrical dexterity— and, or, the lamenting of an emotionally distressed man. This was a vivid display of storytelling and vulnerability. With the grave, scattered narration by his partner, Whitney Alford; the spiritual-like presence of Eckhart Tolle; the unexpected narration early-on by Pompano, Florida-bred Kodak Black, and a guest appearance from one of the progenies of a fearlessly respected group from hip-hop’s golden-age, Ghostface Killah.

The album’s production includes the mind of thinkers like Pharrell, Duval Timothy, the Alchemist, Beach Noise, Boi-1da, Sounwave, Dahi, and more.

Moments throughout the project were painted with sporadic “crackaz” as well as uncanny key patterns and tap dance-like ambient sounds in between tracks.

Kendrick opens with a deadened voice and a woman asserting that he “tell them the truth.” Followed by a still, “I been going through something. 1,855 days.” This track sounded like an explanation or summary for his hiatus and every thought he collected while on the outskirts of society's timeline; also filtering his thoughts through a mind that therapy helped him restore. From grief to vanity and tangible returns as things able to help him cope with losses.

“I went and got me a therapist I can debate all my theories and sharin it.”

​“N95” was easily the first song many returned to, and the first we received a visual for on Saturday following the release. I assumed the rest of the work would sound similar or play to a more lively and awakened Lamar. This was a shot at the artificial elements of culture deemed valuable or appealing. Kendrick did what his music has always done indirectly, disrupt the structure of white- America. Repetitively daring his white counterparts to “take it off.” Showing that the culture, once stripped bare, is in fact, clothed in the flair of blackness.

“UGHH. B* you ugly as F*… who you think they copy off? Copy off US!!”

Baby Keem has been influential to Kendrick's style since his transition from TDE, to his newfound media company, “pgLang” along with Dave Free. His fingerprints appear throughout this project undoubtedly.

“Savior” wasn’t the kind of collaboration I expected to hear from the duo given the bar that’d been set with “Family Ties” last year. Along with some ambient, sincere intoning from Chicago's own, Sam Dew, Kendrick towered over Keem as the older cousin with his immediate lyrical exhibit. Expressing the humanity of artists we consider saviors; alluding to the fact that bleeding makes us all human.

"Kendrick made you think about it. But he is not your savior."

“Father Time.” Alongside the airy vocals of Sampha, Kendrick illustrates the tension between childhood development and lingering trauma while also lamenting a dysfunctional relationship with both a present and distantly engaged father. As well as how this has made trauma-responses knee-jerk reactions to life’s actions.

”That man knew a lot. But not enough to keep me past them streets”

He gave a well-deserved assist to LA’s recently established artist, Blxst, and Bajan soul singer, Amanda Reifer, on "Die Hard.” With some atmospheric sounds for emotional relief and likely another shot at mainstream commendation.

Artists who attempt to create music and content that is reflective of the times, particularly those whose personas embody mystique, take the risk of expressing ideas that have lost touch with the heart of many.

Kendrick’s black-boy-Compton tales were an element of his art that constantly made us return to his words. Storytelling was the bridge leading his fans to his heart, with intellect involved, but pure artistic instinct molded his work. Kendrick unpacks his stories and trauma-like luggage we leave lounging around our room after a 5-day-trip, convincing ourselves we’ll get to it later. Throughout the album, I was reminded that what you’re discovering will always need time to catch up with what you’re creating, or a disconnect will exist. Stories are timeless, as the past doesn’t change. Stories are never out-of-touch.

As the project progresses there seem to be fresh and premature perspectives. You can tell when someone has just reached a new realm of information based on how candid they are in sharing it and how rudimentary it is when conveyed.

But to experience the transition from being solely a learner to someone who’s fully understood complex realities, in an art form this dense, will help this album be carried and remembered in hip-hop’s timeline. Rather than written off as a moment where the world gathered to see one man be embarrassingly wrong in his conjecturing. Rap might be both the quickest and easiest means to deliver an idea, at least clearly— and high-level rapping means high-level transmitting. You don’t just get credit for welcoming an idea if you don’t rap it well.

“Worldwide Steppers” is an eerie, horror film-Esque loop over Kendrick’s hurried, monotone rapping as though having some lyrical reverie. The track transitions through a news bell into a funk-like rhythm, and more ruminative-rapping.

”I’m a killer. He’s a killer. She’s a killer B*. We some killers. Walking zombies, tryna scratch that itch.”

With quality writing and delivery, Kendrick did provide commentary worth engaging with. Rather than merely something a rapper composes to insert themself into a dialogue that the theme of their music has never been consistent with through one, isolated effort.

”What the f* is cancel culture dawg? Say what I want about you niggas. I’m like Oprah, dawg.”

He floated into deep waters on tracks like “Worldwide Steppers” and “Auntie Diaries.” Giving raw and detailed excerpts about interracial relations and dealings with white women well into his career.

He takes jabs at the perceived sensitivity of today’s media and “cancel culture” as well as briefly opening a lingering can of worms while rapping about gender through nostalgic childhood stories reflective of his aunt and cousin’s experiences.

​​Questioning and challenging religion’s role in the ostracizing of those who’ve embraced their own reality on the spectrum of gender.

I believe picking fun at “political correctness” or refusing to “sugar-coat” the “truth” is an indirect attempt to loosen the grip of public discourse held by the hands of those who are usually the target of harmful language.

“Where the hypocrites at? What community feel they the only ones relevant?”

Although with misgendering & the misuse of pronouns, and other half-processed ideas, which many will certainly raise questions about, Kendrick did welcome a conversation into an arena of hip-hop that had been denied access by gatekeepers. The gesture is recognized, but Art can still be clumsy in this context.

The use of the “F-word” or, any slur or exclusive term, even within art, is a slippery slope. How we engage with and understand offensive language will always be a never-ending cycle. You can decipher when someone’s comments are off-putting due to gaps in knowledge or simply a decision to be willfully ignorant or irritant. Kendrick falls under the former.

​But the song, in structure and narration, seems to be communicating through the lens of a boy who hasn’t yet navigated or understood these boundaries. At any rate, these stories and raps are written in stone now; and we must give an account for our art.

Earlier it was mentioned how interludes and skits serve as staples holding together the pages of a book. Kodak Black’s voice was one that none of us expected, and, truth be told, wanted to hear, but he was subtly pivotal to the development of the project in that his voice gave me the earliest conveyance of a theme or idea. His first interlude sounded like the album’s intro.

His presence fits well for a few reasons. Its adolescent or unruly-like-nature in conjunction with the wise, studious aura of Kendrick’s appearance helped uniquely cast as well as bridge the two of them. The unfamiliarity Kodak might’ve had with Kendrick’s art form made him fit well and was a very unique afterthought, initially. Noteworthy that he even mispronounced “Oklama” and “Eckhart Tolle.”

“Kodak Black *steps* Okay-Lama. *steps* Act-heart-Tollen *steps* and this is, the big steppers”

As well as this, having someone whose way of expression we believed was irreconcilable with his, narrate his album, was probably intended. Kendrick is no stranger to having the presence of a youthful black male’s voice spread throughout his projects. Kodak, in the youth that he exuded while juxtaposed with Kendrick, actually fit the mold well. The Section 80-Project-Baby-mesh was maybe what he felt as though connected the two.

”Got the baby snipers standin’ on that merc’ bidness. Yeah, slime’fuh Yak”

His grating, Pompano-bred poems and crisp vocals next to stilled silence. Kodak’s project baby soliloquy over a swift key progression was a moment in the project’s timeline. He, as well as other sounds during gaps, was one of the few things that remained constant.

“We ain’t seen this coming. This more than a blessing. What’chu doing with Kendrick, n*? What’chu doing with a legend”

Yak ended up solidifying himself as focal to the continuity of the project when Florida’s torch bearer was heard on “Silent Hill.” Which sounds like a track he led the way on in terms of style— pulling Kendrick out of his element but his arsenal of flows and variety of alter-egos helped him sound in place.

​As much as a lot of us would’ve hated to say it years ago, Kendrick and Kodak Black sounded like a natural merge of two distinct sounds and styles.

Kendrick isolated Kodak’s flair and placed him into a context, sonically, that would awaken a new element of his craft. He sounded the same. But his voice on the same track as Kendrick’s strangely made everything he said sound sage, and believable— from Trackhawks launching like slingshots to pinky-ring diamonds resembling ring pops. I would hope that there were some restorative exchanges in their studio sessions.

Kendrick’s jabs at “cancel culture” make sense now given he probably was aware that he’d already ventured into a realm of doing something that would likely have him deprecated for having someone on the project who is an avid Trump supporter and pleaded guilty to first-degree assault and battery, and was also accused of rape; which he later denied this charge.

“We Cry Together” was an aggressive verbal trade between a man and woman who undoubtedly are romantically involved. But the lyrical duel attempts to have a sociopolitical undertone. Sad to say, even in its greatest impact, it’s more of a rendition of Joyner Lucas’s 2017 lyrical dialogue “I’m not a racist.”

The track ends with “stop tap dancing around the conversation.” I don’t think it’s merely a reflection of our obsession with romanticizing what is “toxic.” Rather, just a sheer assessment of men-women relations.

Pharrell’s creative savvy on “Mr. Morale” helped add color to the project and was like the other strain of Kendrick we assumed to hear, peeking through the crack— briefly though. This sounds like a track that would’ve blended well with the Black Panther soundtrack from 2018. With a look from pgLang’s newest sign, Tanna Leon, and his soft-punk rap flavor.

​“You should know that I’m slightly off, fighting off demons that been outside. Better known as myself Ima demigod”

​“Mother I Sober.” The feature on Apple Music that allows listeners to follow a song’s lyrics has been pivotal to how we stream an artist’s music. To fully engage with this track, this very feature was needed. Kendrick speaks softly over subtle keys.

​Venting as though the song was a recording he would soon send to his therapist or hide for his children to find once they’ve matured. Over dreary keys, and gaps filled with the harmonious voice of Beth Gibbons, he vents about abuse, alcohol, drugs, and infidelity— which Whitney recommended to him much-needed therapy. He describes grief and guilt as two experiences in which sobriety strengthens the pain.

”Whitney’s hurt, the pure soul I know, I found her in the kitchen. Asking God, “where did I lose myself?” And can it be forgiven?”

Generational trauma was handed down to him from his parents like garments they no longer wished to keep. But breaking curses is like finally making the courageous decision to burn these clothes.

The song slowly transitions from woeful laments and confessions to victory chants and lyrical progression and projection as Kendrick spiels the truth of sexual abuse and generations of trauma— then proclaims freedom for his mother, our children, the power of Whitney, and those who exist at the outskirts of society.

A soft-landing voice floats over your ear, assuring Kendrick, “You did it… I’m proud of you. You broke a generational curse. Say thank you, dad.” A baby’s voice intervenes. “Thank you, daddy. Thank you, mommy. Thank you, brother. Mr. Morale.”

This album undoubtedly needs room to breathe and see how well it stands tall in the hands of hip-hop’s time. But Kendrick delivered his heart, again, and has shown us, repeatedly, that he will always rap about what matters to him, above everything else; and vows to be a truth-teller.

​This is no inauthentic attempt at enlightenment given Kendrick’s rapping has always been introspection crafted with storytelling.

​Even after being detached for 5 years, he returned in stride with little promotion from his now former label, TDE, and only one single. Over the last 3 days, I watched Hip-hop influence the internet, once again, to weave both halves of its brain together so we could interpret the expressions of a Compton rapper’s heart and consciousness.