Looking back at Kendrick Lamar's To Pimp a Butterfly, seven years later.

"Finally free, the butterfly sheds light on situations that the caterpillar never considered, ending the eternal struggle. Although the butterfly and the caterpillar are completely different, they are one and the same."

When Kendrick Lamar released his expansive and intimate; furious yet cerebral and thought-provoking musical journey; To Pimp a Butterfly in mid-March of 2015, it blossomed a genre born out of the city streets of the late 20th century, a cultural phenomena of sorts, into one of the most profound musical arts of our time, worthy of multi-generational praise and serious artistic examination for years to come. TPAB may last in our memories and music history as one of the most comprehensive and elaborate albums to ever be conceived, full of narratives, vignettes, and poetic lyrics comprising an uncommonly cohesive anthology aimed at our and Kendrick's personal insecurities, both on the internal and external plane. Our anxieties, prides, regrets, temptations, morals, and our very motivations, are all here wrapped into an exemplification of essentially what we could call self-actualizing experience; and from Kendrick's vantage point of Compton, CA this experience is in an environment that is all but blatantly attempting to oppress and "pimp" it, which ultimately makes the triumph of self-love that the album enables all the more compelling for listeners.

While societal and self-reflection as well as development have always been staples in Kendrick Lamar's albums, like on projects Section.80, good kid, m.A.A.d city, as well as the future Pulitzer-Prize winning DAMN, his music has also always remained commercially viable for mainstream and pop appeal, one of Kendrick's claims to fame even while embodying the infamous and notorious label of "conscious rapper". But as an utter "F U" to this notion, TPAB is an unapologetic and unwaveringly musically authentic project that separates itself from the rest of Kendrick's discography as nearly its own genre. From the notably heavy jazz and funk influences covering the whole of the album, executed with live instrumentation from the likes of jazz-giants Kamasi Washington, Terrace Martin, and Thundercat among others, to the angry and neurotic emotional tones on cuts like U and The Blacker the Berry, it was apparent Kendrick didn't have casual listeners nor the traditional radio plays in mind when creating this album, though some tracks like Alright and King Kunta still did commercially well. Instead what the listeners get here is a series of deep-cut tracks filled to the brim with motifs, unadulterated emotion, and musical anecdotes pushed mainly through poetry and story, all while making up a gargantuan and somewhat Broadway-like experience, meant mainly for those who listen with trained ears.

On songs like Wesley's Theory, Kendrick touches on the faults of a 21st century music industry, the frustration and depravity that follows the black experience in a post-modern America, and ultimately the exploration of turmoil that Kendrick himself faces while struggling with these tribulations ever since his departure from Compton. But when he comes back, he finds that the fulfillment and the wholeness that he was desperately searching for during his travels is what peers through the cracks of his hometown concrete as well as through the conversation and reflection he has with his former neighbors. As Kendrick raps in Momma, he was confident he knew the world and all of its content and context, "the price of life and how much its worth", he claims until he finally admits, "I realized I didn't know shit; the day I came home." This is one of many times on the album Kendrick stresses the value and disillusionment of humility as it relates to self-discovery and personal enlightenment. Getting off your high-horse to Kendrick, is essentially the stepping into the new world of understanding and empathy. It allows you to get to the root of things that really matter in life, at least to Kendrick, people.

Two tracks later he takes on the idea again, this time in true story-time fashion with a little splash of altruism and religion in How Much a Dollar Cost, telling the story of how an awkward and tense moment with a beggar at a gas station turns enriching, when a resentful and "power-tripping" Kendrick Lamar stops to fill up his tank one day. The beggar, who Kendrick believed was a crack-head, asked and begged for money, eventually pleading with Kendrick to only give a single bill, but Kendrick thinking that he put himself in this situation himself and shouldn't be asking for hand-outs, refused and grew angry. He was about to close his door and drive away when the beggar stopped him in his tracks. He says and asks, "Have you ever opened up Exodus:14, a humble man is all that we ever need. Tell me how much a dollar cost?". Kendrick, through great turmoil, eventually sees this as a test of his selflessness and humility and even imagines the begging man as God himself, perhaps testing Kendrick toward a spot in heaven. The closing vocals of the song sing "I've washed my hands, I've said my grace what more do you want from me?" ultimately portraying Kendrick's confusion and agitation at the ordeal that essentially made him retract the very selfishness that he thought gave him the inspiration for his career and success.

Because that's what TPAB ultimately is, triumph and acceptance. An acceptance of one's self like on the self-love exclamation of I, ace Acceptance over anxieties and confusions of self-development and his struggle to maintain integrity in a world that requires that you abandon it.

I didn't know what to think at first. This album initially sounded so full, so rich, and so dense that it nearly intimidated me from fully diving in from my very first listen. It seemed like something that wasn't meant for my 15 year-old ears, and surely not meant for your everyday mainstream radio-listener. No this was something else, something that felt deliberate, almost rebellious, obviously elaborate, and all the more grandeur because of it.