Mr. Morale & the Effigy of Self

I’m a fan of Kendrick Lamar. My partner introduced me to his work to “To Pimp a Butterfly”. I was driving her home during when she put on the album. She’s done this for a lot of music for me.

The last album from Kendrick, “Mr. Morale & The Big Steppers” is a beautiful piece of art. It hurts to listen to at times. He is a fantastic storyteller but he is not your savior.

The hurt I feel speaks to core question that Lamar posits in the album, when you burn the created effigy of self, what remains? Is that person worthy of your accolades? If you see the skeletons, mess and inelegance, will you still listen?

Can we find some paradise in this life?