Imperfectly Perfect: Kendrick is Mr. Morale

This is now the fourth version of this article, so we'll start with a little come-to-Jesus moment. Truth: I had no idea how to write this article. I thought that after a month, Mr. Morale & the Big Steppers would prove to be less elusive than it was the first time I heard it (in the wee hours of the morning of May 13th). Some alternate takes for this article:

In 2017, under major societal upheaval...

My first time in therapy, I was twelve years old...

The lesson that I'm inferencing from these restarts is that getting it perfect is a futile effort. And, in fact, it's a lesson Kendrick wants us to take away from this very album. Perfection out of anyone is an absurd expectation.

Courtesy of @renellaice on Instagram.

Kendrick Lamar's most recent album, and his last with longtime label Top Dawg Entertainment (TDE), is a shifting and versatile soundscape. Nailing it to one genre is useless, as Kendrick sifts through his rolodex of hip-hop, boom-bap, R&B, and drum-and-bass influences in addition to melodic and piano-heavy instrumentals. On "N95" he embraces a modern rap sound, only to upend his entire West-Coast style for the Duval Timothy-sampling "Crown," where Lamar sings the entire 3 minutes.

It's an unprecedented album when his return to the limelight was at its most anticipated. He could've released a DAMN.-leaning album, full of radio-friendly tracks, but instead chose an introspective and therapeutic collection of songs. On Morale, Kendrick does what he does best: tapping into the humanity of a world that has lost their own.

On Mr. Morale & the Big Steppers, Lamar is the most candid he's ever been with his audience. "What the fuck is cancel culture, dawg" he raps at the end of "N95". It's not the only time he mentions the absurdly controversial social hot topic, yet all the while never saying people shouldn't be held accountable for his actions. He's asked his audience again and again to not think of Kendrick as a perfect being -- he's claimed to have killed another man in his youth, called himself a hypocrite, etc. Now, he's outright refuting worldwide adoration and adornment of the "savior" role.


From there, Kendrick walks us through his grief, his issues with infidelity (it seems his fiancĂ© was the inspiration for the album, nearly forcing him to seek therapy upon the illumination of his cheating), and childhood trauma. The late-album track "Auntie Diaries" is the first notable Trans-rights song from a major label, mainstream hip-hop artist. Homophobia is still rampant in the rap community, and transphobia is the norm, and even his approach to the topic is imperfect. However, Lamar's support marks a turning point, hopefully.

In the penultimate track, Whitney Alford, Kendrick's childhood sweetheart and the father of his two children, states "You did it. You broke a generational curse. Say, 'thank you daddy'," followed by a quick, heartbreaking couple of words from Kendrick's oldest child. Here it becomes clear why Lamar is "trauma dumping" in this album. It's not for himself, not as an attempt to save his marriage (e.g. Jay-Z on 4:44 -- no one was aware of Lamar's infidelity prior to Morale), or even to make himself feel better.

Lamar has always stated that he wanted to make the type of album his daughter could listen to and seek advice should he pass away. It's the music he wants to make, not what the world expects, and with the promise of him going independent via his new label, pgLang, we can surmise a similar future path.

It's particularly telling that the world's first introduction to this music was "the Heart Pt. 5", a non-album single. Over five minutes, Lamar covers many of the same themes as he does in Morale, but revisiting the single after digesting the album is all the more fulfilling. His final verse, written from the perspective of his late friend Nipsey Hussle, paints the picture of a man doing his best to stay alive and avoid regrets. A man who has faced too much loss and grief, and wants to be there for his children, when the world would have it otherwise. Kendrick raps, "Y'all had to see it, that's the only way to feel // And though my physical won't reap the benefits // The energy that carry on emits still." Here, in comparing Nipsey's death to Emmett Till's (notice his slur of the words emits-still), Lamar is underlining the significance of such a shocking death, and the movement that could be sparked because of it.

Similarly, with Mr. Morale & the Big Steppers, the world, his fans, and his community had to see the shortcomings of their "savior" in order to truly grasp the absurdity of that title. Morale serves as encouragement to listeners and his contemporaries: "seek therapy, look at the good it does." 


There's more to say about the often contradictory moments of the album, such as the inclusion of Kodak Black, a convicted rapist, and Kendrick's liberation of sexually abused women on "Mother I Sober," as well as plenty to discuss about his confusing COVID-19 vaccination opinions. 

Yet looking to Lamar for the answers, expecting him to get it right and forming a model for fans? To paraphrase the final moments of album closer, "Mirror," -- stop waiting for perfection, stop waiting on Kendrick, you won't be growing by doing so.

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What do you think of the album? Did it live up to the hype? How does it compare to the rest of Kendrick's discography? Let us know in the comments below!

- Ritter

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