KENDRICK
LAMAR
K
PREVIOUS SPREAD: PRODUCED BY COCO KNUDSON. HOODIE BY ALEXANDER WANG. PANTSBY AMBUSH. SHOES BY VANS. RINGS BY CHROME HEARTS. EARRINGS BY LYNN BAN
endrickLamarhasalotgoingonright
now, but you’d never know it. Backstage
in Duluth, Georgia, a few hours before
his latest sold-out arena show, he’s radiat-
ingunearthlylevelsofcleareyedserenity
fromhisperchonadressing-roomcouch.
He’s wearing a peach sweatsuit and white
Nikes, and carrying a plastic cup of green
juice–“alittlekale,apple,spinach.Shit
good.”Thefuelmustwork:HehasaNum-
berOnepophitwith“HUMBLE.”,anelab-
orate video with Rihanna about to drop, a
coupleofdozentourdateslefttogo.
Freakish things keep happening in
2017,mostofthemawful,butatleastone
anomalyisforthebetter.Popularmusic’s
most exciting and innovative young art-
ist – the best rapper of his generation, and
that’s just the start – has somehow become
oneofitsbiggest.AndLamarlandedthere
without compromise, after releasing three
classicalbumsinarow.
His major-label debut, 2012’sgood kid,
m.A.A.d city,was vivid autobiography, a
virtuosic deconstruction of gangsta rap
centredaroundtalesofachildhoodin
Compton,wheremanyofhisfriendswere
gangbangers and police harassment was
aconstantthreat.Thefollow-up,2015’s
To Pimp a Butterfly,was a dense, cere-
bral,jazzy,dazzlingmeditationonracein
Americathatspawnedoneofthedecade’s
most important songs, the Black Lives
Matteranthem“Alright”–butnoradio
smashes. On his latest, this year’sDAMN.,
he switched lanes, managing to make an
LP that’s just as smart and conceptual, but
tighter, hookier and more accessible.
Lamar,30,ispleasedwithhisrecent
commercial triumphs, but says it’s not the
goal: “If I can make one person – or 10 mil-
lion people – feel a certain type of euphoria
in my music, that’s the whole point.”
Yourappedaboutteenagedreamsof
“livin’lifelikerappersdo”–butyourown
lifeasarapperhasturnedouttobepretty
sedate. What are your vices at this point?
Mybiggestviceisbeingaddictedtothe
chaseofwhatI’mdoing.Itturnsintoavice
whenIshutoffpeoplethatactuallycare
for me, because I’m so indulged spreading
this word. Being on that stage, knowing
that you’re changing people’s lives, that’s a
high. Sometimes, when you’re pressing so
much to get something across to a strang-
er,youforgetpeoplethatareclosertoyou.
That’s a vice.
Doyoueverfeellikeyoushouldbehav-
ing more fun?
Everybody’sfunisdifferent.Mineisnot
drinking.Idrinkcasually,fromtimeto
time. I like to get people from my neigh-
bourhood, someone that’s fresh out of pris-
on, and see their faces when they go to New
York,whentheygooutofthecountry.Shit,
that’s fun for me. You see it through their
eyesandyousee’emlightup.
People treat you like you’re a saint or a
monk, which must be weird.
But the people closest to me really know
whoIam.Theygetalloftheversions.
Is there maybe something of the monk
about you, though?
IguessthatcangobacktowhenIwas
akid.ItfeltlikeIwasalwaysinmyown
head. I still got that nature. I’m always
thinking. I’m always meditating on the
present or the future.
Wasthereasensethatyouwerespecial
as a kid?
From what my family tells me, I carried
myselfasaman–that’swhytheycalled
me “Man Man”. It put a stig-
maontheideaofmereact-
ingasakidsometimes–I
wouldhurtmyselfandthey
wouldexpectmenottocry.
Thatputalotofresponsibil-
ityonme,gotmereadyfor
the responsibility my fans
put upon me. I ended up get-
ting tough skin, too, even
with criticism. My first time
in the studio, [label chief]
Top Dawg was like, “Man,
that shit wack.” Other art-
ists around couldn’t handle
that. But it made me go back
in the booth and go harder.
Wheredidallthatmatu-
rity come from?
Itjustcamefrombeing
around older motherfuckers,
man. I was seven years old playing tackle
footballwith14-year-olds.Anybodymy
oldercousinswashangingwith,that’swho
Iwantedtohangwith.I’vealwaysbeen
short [chuckles]. Everybody was always
bigger and older than me. It gave me in-
sight on people.
You’ve said you were one of the only ones
amongyourfriendswithadadaround.
How did that make a difference for you?
Ittaughtmehowtodealwith[paus-
es]...emotions.Betterthanalotofmy
peers. When you see kids doing things
that the world calls harmful or a threat,
it’s because they don’t know how to deal
withtheiremotions.Whenyouhaveafa-
ther in your life, you do something, he’ll
look at you and say, “What the fuck is you
doing?”Puttingyouinyourplace.Mak-
ing you feelthissmall. That was a privi-
lege for me. My peers, their mothers and
grandmothersmayhavetaughtthemthe
love and the care, but they couldn’t teach
themthat.
What makes you lose your temper?
Peoplethatarearoundmethatare
energy-suckers or someone that is not
driven the same way I’m driven. Can’t
have that around me. Life is too short.
You have that line “Shit I’ve been
through probably offend you”, and you
do that rundown of “murder, conviction,
burners... .”
I can’t tell you the shit that I’ve been
through withouttelling youthe shit that
I’ve been through. I’m gonna say, “I know
murder, conviction, burners, boosters,
burglars, dead, redemption, scholars, fa-
thers dead.” I’m-a give you a breakdown
of my life from the time I was born all the
way till I was 21.
There’sacertainamountoftraumaim-
plicitinthestoriesyoutell–youwitnessed
murders,evenasalittlekid.Howmuch
have you grappled with it as an adult?
Well,youknow,itwasalsojustalotof
mothafuckin’ parties and a lot of humour,
which sometimes blocks the
fucked-up shit that I’ve seen.
Allofthefunnyshitwith
my crazy-ass uncles and my
pops–he’sfunnyasfuck.
Mymum’sacrazy-as-fuck,
funny, loving person. These
things countered the nega-
tive shit, helped me to be
able to understand tragedy,
but not break from it.
Whatmakesyoulaugh
now?
Shit, everything makes
me laugh. Everything. This
guy right here [points to
his videographer]? He got
something under his hat
thatmakesmebustup
laughing every time he takes
itoff.Ididn’tevenknowGod
invented hairlines like that. That shit is
terrible [laughs]!Ialwayssaythatthebest
entertainers have to have the most wick-
edest sense of humour, to be able to take
painandchangeitintolaughter.
Otherthanafewlyrics,you’vebeen
quietaboutDonaldTrump.Why?
I mean, it’s like beating a dead horse.
Wealreadyknowwhatitis.Arewegonna
keeptalkingaboutitorarewegonna
takeaction?Youjustgettoapointwhere
you’re tired of talking about it. It weighs
“That’s the
challenge
that keeps
me going:
CanIoutdo
myself
again?
IfIdidn’t
have that, I
would have
stopped
after my first
platinum
album.”
Senior writer Brian Hiatt wrote the
Paris Jackson cover story in RS 785.
74 | Rolling Stone | RollingStoneAus.com October, 2017
