Why Kendrick’s ‘Euphoria’ is Bigger Than Rap
There is much to say about this whole Kendrick — Drake battle and why it felt (and continues to feel) so good to listen to “euphoria.”
In a weird way it reminds me of reading the amazing book “All About Love” by bell hooks in that I finally feel like someone has given us the language to describe something we’ve felt but never been sure of how to articulate ourselves.
I feel like what Kendrick is speaking on is boundaries and growth. In the case of Drake’s popularity, Kendrick is drawing a line to protect hip hop culture while also imploring Drake to do the one thing his decade-long run atop the hip hop charts has failed to do: force him to grow as a person and artist. Sure, he’s rode various trends from St. Louis to South London but personal growth is not something we’ve seen from Drake which is especially unfortunate in a time when we’ve had Black Lives Matter, #MeToo and other major social issues that could use more voices.
“And notice I said “we” it’s not just me, I’m what’s the culture feelin’.”
“I’m knowin’ they call you The Boy but where is a man, ‘cause I ain’t seen him yet?”
Previously, in sharing my initial reaction to the song on Tuesday morning, I wrote on social, “Kendrick just gave us chicken soup for the hip hop soul.”
I still feel that way, but similar to how guys like Kobe and LeBron are bigger than basketball, I realize I need to expand and expound with Kendrick, too. This is bigger than hip hop. This is about America to some extent. Kendrick implies as much when he raps,
“Tell ‘em run to America, they imitate heritage, they can’t imitate this violence”
What Kendrick expressed, his general AND specific dislike — err, hatred — of Drake isn’t just about who is recognized as the biggest name in rap music. Like his Pulitzer Prize-winning lyrics on “DAMN,” Kendrick served up something more filling than a hot 16 or a trendy track for streaming.
Kendrick gave us the verbiage to start explaining the general malaise America has been in over the better part of the last decade since a certain someone took over the White House and put a(mother) stain on this country’s mired history.
To better understand what I’m talking about, you have to go back to the times before Kendrick and Drake were in the GOAT conversation and battling.
Drake’s “Thank Me Later” came out in the summer of 2010 about a year after his breakout mixtape, “So Far Gone,” which is still possibly my favorite project of his at least from a cohesion standpoint.
Around that same time, Kendrick dropped his “Overly Dedicated” mixtape followed by “Section.80” the following year, solidifying his place as the new voice of the West Coast.
But while Drake and K.Dot were up next, the conversation about who was the best in rap and who best embodied hip-hop culture during those initial Recession and post-Recession years was clear as day a matchup of brotherly rivals, Jay Z and Kanye West.
Jay Z, with his extensive catalog of hits including “Run this Town” with Rihanna and “Empire State of Mind” with Alicia Keys off his 2009 release “The Blueprint 3,” was in the pole position. Meanwhile, Kanye was still early on in his heel turn following his interruption of Taylor Swift at the 2009 MTV VMAs, “and what I do, act more stupidly…” But, in a way only Kanye could (at the time), his reputation was bolstered yet again by the music; this time with “My Beautiful Dark Twisted Fantasy,” undoubtedly one of the greatest albums since “Thriller” whether you love or hate the man.
With Kanye’s successful launch of his Yeezy sneakers, first with Nike, then with Louis Vuitton, he cemented himself as a global icon and the pairing of him and his “big brother” Jay Z on the “Watch the Throne” album further canonized the two as the head honchos of hip hop America in the age of a Black president in Barack Obama.
And here’s where the trouble started.
Kanye’s primary influence, his mother, had died a few years prior. He was in one of the most high-profile relationships in Hollywood with Amber Rose (then “upgraded” in 2012 to slightly more recognizable and tabloid-friendly Kim Kardashian of Ray J/Paris Hilton fame). His antics, like the Taylor Swift interruption, were seen as the curse that came with the obvious gifts of a megalomaniac, something Americans had seen before. And, with his ascent from Jay Z’s mentee to.
his musical peer (and superior once the tour revealed Kanye’s mastery for the grand stage; his impact on concert touring — Es Devlin included — can’t be discounted) it became obvious that there was no one to either check Mr. West nor no one for Ye to truly confide in.
And so began the downfall of the man who made back-pack rap world famous. The man “that’ll take Freeway, throw him on tracks with Mos Def; Call him Kwali or Kweli, I put him on songs with Jay-Z.”
We lost the happy, funny, cousin Kanye who found a way to get both the gangsta rap fans and hip-hop heads to nod to his beats and rap “wait til’ I get my money right” and in came “Yeezus” the aggressively polarizing figure who stood on the shoulders of hip-hop and made himself Elon Musk before even Elon was the Elon we know today.
Like Thanos’ soulless pursuit of infinity stones, Kanye spent the 2010s basically sacrificing just about everything to become that guy. And in doing so, he untethered the singular hold on hip-hop culture that was at his fingertips.
In 2009, Jay Z introduced us to J. Cole on “A Star is Born” but Cole would need much longer to carve out his slot as part of the modern hip-hop Big 3. The first two slots, by the mid-2010s point in the downfall of Kanye, had long been claimed.
First, Drake with “Nothing Was the Same,” a 2013 album littered with hits and head-turning bars on anthemic songs like “Started from the Bottom” and “Worst Behavior.” Then Kendrick with his electrifying verse on Big Sean’s “Control” in which he sent not a subliminal but a bazooka directly at his friendly rivals, the main emerging figures in rap.
“I’m usually homeboys with the same niggas I’m rhymin with but this is hip-hop and them niggas should know what time it is…
And that goes for Jermaine Cole, Big KRIT, Wale, Pusha T, Meek Mill, A$ap Rocky, Drake, Big Sean, Jay Electron, Tyler, Mac Miller…
I got love for you all, but I’m tryna murder you niggas”
Add in Kendrick’s official Dr Dre-blessed debut of “good kid, M.a.a.D city” stamping his Compton bonafides followed by a Pulitzer Prize winning, Pharrell-gifted anthem in “Alright” (and the rest of the TPAB classic) and Lil Wayne approving Drake’s march to stardom dating back to “So Far Gone” on through Drake’s dance-friendly hits “Hotline Bling” and “One Dance” in 2015 and 2016, both the Top Dawg and OVO camps felt like they had a direct beeline to anointing the new king of hip hop.
Kanye’s official decent around the Trump election opened up a clear splinter down the middle of rap and hip-hop with the backpackers and old heads who were brought into Kanye’s lore off the strength of the Chicago/Common/No I.D. and Rocafella co-signs went one way — mostly to Kendrick’s side — while much of the suburban / mainstream White America / Top 40 fans sided with the likable Drake.
While the 80s birthed hip-hop into youth culture and the 90s pushed the genre into the mainstream, the 2000s — from Jay and Ye to Eminem and 50 Cent — coronated the culture as a global force. Drake and Kendrick, picking up where Kanye left off, took the culture to new levels both commercially (Drake) and critically (Kendrick).
The splinter that was forged in the mid-2010s has only grown deeper and deeper since. You have an entire generation of 80s / 90s hip hop heads who feel like they are losing something that must be earned and protected clashing with a 2010s / 2020s generation who doesn’t even think of Jay Z, Biggie and Nas when someone mentions a “Big 3” much less legendary MCs with names like Rakim, Kool G Rap and Big Daddy Kane.
Kendrick’s words on “euphoria” aren’t only about Drake anymore than this battle isn’t only about hip hop. This is about America.
Do we live in a society that celebrates history, honors legends, respects craft and skill (lyricism), and appreciates honesty, emotional maturity and authenticity OR do we live in a society that celebrates financial success, lionizes wealth over maturity, rewards commercial triumphs more emphatically than critical ones, devalues and disregards women and sacrifices the honest for the convenient (a la ghostwriters) and trendy?
This isn’t anything like a political battle between presidential tickets or a subversive brand-conflict between Swifties and the Beyhive or an actual war between Russia and Ukraine. This is more like an intellectual battle between the Federalist and Anti-Federalist. Or maybe something of (seemingly) less consequences like that between James Baldwin and Richard Wright with regard to “Native Son.”
This is about the future, too. Kendrick and Drake both have sons, and it seems to fuel growth in one, a type of growth that resonates with a society that itself is grappling with what’s at stake with A.I. and globalism and racism and any number of issues Drake seems more inclined to leverage for his fame than to learn about and address as an artist.
In sharing where his focus is as a father, Kendrick mentions “teachin’ him morals, integrity, discipline” while keeping up the line that Drake apparently “don’t know nothin’ ‘bout that.” If Drake has any proof, it’s not going to come from courtside seats at an NBA game or a social media post; perhaps he’ll share some parenting moments in his reply?
Long story short, Kendrick’s diss is about the state of America and whether or not hip hop — in its place as the most dominant form of popular music today — will continue to go along in building a money-grab society in which someone who clearly doesn’t care about the people — a pure capitalist, a routine womanizer, a phony — will lead it. Yes, I’m still talking about a Canadian. Not the loudmouth guy who may have just come to mind.
Remember the day Obama was first elected. Even if you didn’t vote for him in ‘08, especially if you’re a hip hop fan over 30, you felt something you’d never felt before. Nothing was the same ever since.
I bet you felt euphoria.
