So that’s enough of 2012, then.
[Video][Website]
[7.00]
Daniel Montesinos-Donaghy: For all that’s been written in the wake of last year’s good kid, m.A.A.d city (my personal favourite: Houstonian writer Matthew Ramirez’s tumblr essay), “Bitch Don’t Kill My Vibe” has retained an element of mystique despite the level of attention paid to its host album. It floats along calmly despite being based around a withering put-down, stands alone on an album entirely concerned with thematic cohesion and showcases craft over savvy marketing (Lady Gaga was supposed to be singing the hook once upon a time). It’s a curious song – curious meaning that it feels singular, but also that it shows Lamar trying to understand the world around him as he tilts his head at finding something new. And the word “bitch” hits like a brick, a spiky detour from the rest of the song’s measured atmosphere. For the single version, it’s been changed to “trick,” turning the chorus into something lighter and more accessible. But oh lord does the “bitch” belong, if only to give the song its bite and keep it from wafting away on air.
[8]
Al Shipley: It’s interesting to listen to the solo album version given how much it’s been framed and defined that the superstars that have touched it in other incarnations: Lady Gaga on that increasingly laughable, thankfully discarded early draft, Jay-Z on the event remix. What actually matters, though, is Kendrick — his verses are so insanely good on the remix that they won me over to a song I was initially cold on, but when I go back to those original verses, I remember that they really weren’t anything special.
[6]
Anthony Easton: The music is lush, seamless, and gorgeous…like a slightly cryptic luxury product you didn’t know existed five minutes ago, that you will dispose of in two or three days, but you need now! It’s too bad so much effort is put on the cliched lyrics and tired flow of the hyped-to-death Kendrick.
[4]
Brad Shoup: Lamar’s exceptionalism grates against his declarations of fallibility. The vibe doesn’t really seem endangered: he says he’s shouting but we can’t hear it. Sounwave digs up some Danish downtempo fluff and strikes smoke; if only Kendrick could show the same curiosity about the actions of others.
[5]
Alfred Soto: One of my least favorite good Kid, m.A.A.d city tracks gets a sonic spritz, although this incarnation lacks the desperation of the other diva-addled editions. Well-observed, still too damn garrulous, and Lamar’s dork impersonation still sounds misconceived.
[5]
Patrick St. Michel: This is the Kendrick Lamar song I’ve listened to the most since last fall, on long train rides and walks to work and times spent preparing dinner. It’s probably one of my most played tracks period of the last year. Yet I find it difficult to put into words why this song sticks with me. It’s partly in the way those strings give way to the beat, the two eventually synthesizing into one fly-as-hell production. It’s also in the way Lamar zig-zags through it, managing to be awe struck by where he’s ended up (“put me on stages/to me that’s amazing”) while also throwing out a bunch of disses. Maybe it’s something about the very first words here — “I am a sinner/whose probably going to sin again/Lord forgive me/Lord forgive me thing’s I don’t understand” — that’s achingly human. Whatever the reason, this one’s still going to be monopolizing my iPod whenever I end up passing by the “k’s.” So maybe I should take Lamar’s advice and cut out all the talk.
[9]
Jonathan Bradley: Hip-hop isn’t usually this internal in its focus; it can get personal or spiritual or contemplative, but “Bitch Don’t Kill My Vibe” notably turns away from an outside world with which rap is inerrantly to engage. “Look inside of my soul” are Lamar’s opening words and he maintains this introspection even while expanding his thoughts to encompass the city that puts him on stages and we fiends waiting on his records “like the first and the fifteenth.” It has a delicacy defined by its precariousness; Kendrick is a sinner certain to sin again, but there’s hope too: in the change he feels coming and the new life approaching. The song’s gold-hued beauty is infused with contradiction: its a languid meditation on trying to elongate a transitory moment. Even in the midst of an effort to “stop all pollution,” Lamar is yelling the titular protest.
[9]
Andy Hutchins: Kendrick’s hop from the Internet to his current comet has a lot to do with how sincere he seems; if he’s acting, he seems mostly to be acting like the person he wants to be. And so his most anthemic feel-good song is the one with him telling the story of getting to this point, telling the soulless off, telling everyone just who he is and what he needs to do. He does it with a languid grace (matched by a exquisitely restrained Sounwave beat and Anna Wise’s floaty hook) no other rapper anywhere near his lane has — the economy of words on “My New Year’s resolution is to stop all the pollution/Talk too motherfucking much, I got my drink, I got my music” is deliberate, and perfect, and more like Curren$y than anyone who gets radio spins — and with the wisdom of a guy who sees everything happening to him at any one moment. “I can feel the changes” is the message on my iPhone alarm, has been for months. I wish I could feel them, or go through them, as well as Kendrick does — the differences between the glorious album version of “Bitch” and the brasher, more triumphal radio remix featuring Jay-Z lying about being high at the White House or something is proof that he’s gonna keep growing gracefully.
[10]