Kendrick Lamar’s 'untitled unmastered.' Masters the Art of Compilation

After a major label debut that was heralded as one of the greatest by any artist in music history, the question of how Kendrick Lamar would follow 2012’s good kid, m.A.A.d city lingered for three years until the release of To Pimp a Butterfly. Two ambitiously conceptual albums later, Kendrick Lamar has validated his status as “greatest rapper alive,” achieving both street credibility as the liquid-tongued antagonist on his infamous “Control” verse and institutional distinction as the second most-Grammy-nominated artist in a single year (behind Michael Jackson). But recent success found K. Dot occupying a familiar place beneath the pressure of elevated expectation for his future work. untitled unmastered. seems to add levity to his predicament. 

A compilation album seems to be the perfect response to the insurmountable opus of To Pimp a Butterfly. A collection of unreleased Kendrick Lamar material recorded prior to his sophomore release, untitled unmastered allows us to see how To Pimp a Butterfly took shape, documenting the uncertainty and reservation of Lamar’s foray into an overwhelmingly jazz soundscape while furthering appreciation for what TPaB came to be. What is arguably untitled unmastered.’s greatest attribute is how malleably it fits into the Kendrick Lamar catalogue: it is simultaneously an appetizer and palate cleanser for To Pimp a Butterfly with production that could be traced as far back as 2011’s Section.80 (released independently through Top Dawg Entertainment). It is fitting that these new songs can only be referenced by number and date, because collectively they adopt a seamless identity that blends into the patchwork of Lamar’s total output. 

untitled unmastered. explores themes that we expect to be dissected in a Kendrick Lamar album: institutional injustice, the formation of identity in the ghetto, Lamar’s status as a hip-hop icon, religious conviction, and self-awareness. Intellectually, the album does not contribute anything that hasn’t already been dealt with on either of Lamar’s major releases. What makes the album interesting is how Lamar tests his lyrical and vocal abilities on jazz platforms. “untitled 02” and “untitled 06” offer Kendrick Lamar at his most vocally eclectic. Like the other songs on the album, they present themselves as the sources of confidence through which songs like “For Free?” and “u” were realized. 

While most of the album sounds like a progression towards TPaB, the production of several songs from untitled unmastered. are glaringly retrospective. The ominous synth loop of “untitled 01” is reminiscent of Section.80’s most menacing instrumentals, while the trap instrumentals of “untitled 02” and “untitled 07” reflect the emerging popularity of trap music in the early decade and the chop-and-screwed aesthetic of the 2000s. Undoubtedly the highlight of the album, “untitled 05” builds upon a funky bass line with rich horns, piano accents, and lyrical contributions from Ab-Soul and Jay Rock. Kendrick delivers his first verse with a fiery presence, later mellowing to the introspectively analytic tone of his Top Dawg counterparts. The TDE presence is surprisingly the least impressive of the guest features included on the album. The tracklist is scattered with high-profile contributions from jazz and R&B music. Robert Glasper and Thundercat both provide instrumental work, while Bilal and Cee-Lo Green, who bewilderingly merges the inflection of Nina Simone with the melodic play of Chaka Khan on “untitled 06,” lend their voices. 

As a compilation album, untitled unmastered. should be received as such, and a very fine one in fact. At a time when B-side collections have either altogether disappeared or been dismissed because of their stigmatic classification as “filler,” Kendrick Lamar has managed to hold the attention of those who crave riveting instrumental performances, complex lyrical structures, and socio-politically conscious contemplations.

Cage the Elephant's 'Tell Me I'm Pretty' Earns the Request

What does a band do when their most successful album to date generates just as much inner turmoil as it does critical acclaim? In the case of Cage the Elephant and their 2013 release, Melophobia, the answer is simple – blow things up. After a run of three insatiably frenetic exercises in pseudo-punk rock anxiety, a spectacular reputation as live performers, major label ascension with RCA, and an eventual Grammy nomination for Melophobia, Cage the Elephant had reached an impasse.

The extensive touring and massively unanticipated (yet much deserved) reception of Melophobia led to friction within the band. Guitarist Brad Schultz called the experience "a living hell,” so much so, that it culminated with lead guitarist Lincoln Parrish’s eventual departure in December of 2013. Parrish, who had been a part of Cage the Elephant since age 16 in 2006, had not foreseen the rapid growth and success of the group, stating that his ultimate goal was to “be a producer before anything else.” Nick Bockarth, filled Parrish’s void for the remaining Melophobia tour stops supporting The Black Keys and Foals, which stretched well into 2014.

During the Kentucky rockers’ run with The Black Keys, Schultz and Black Keys lead man/Nashville super-producer Dan Auerbach tossed around ideas for some new Cage songs, and long story short, the rock n’ roll salons led to a collaborative relationship between the two which ultimately led to the creation of this fourth studio record, Tell Me I’m Pretty.  

Opener “Cry Baby” is a jolt to the system; cleaner and brighter than former Cage openers, the twinges of Brit-pop throw TMIP into uncharted territory. "Trouble" is a deceptively wistful tale of woe spun over breezy woos just begging to be sung along to, complete with a lyrical nod to their magnum opus with "You know what they say / Yeah the wicked get no rest," while the other single “Mess Around” pairs fuzzy riffs with infectious poppy hooks, perfectly wrapping up the band's dirtier feel in a tight 3 minute package. Auerbach himself even provides the guitar solo, though it would be unfair to automatically dismiss this effort as Black Keys fodder.

While Auerbach’s association with TMIP may trigger an automatic assumption that the album as a whole would be filled with Black Keys-isms, that assumption overlooks how Cage the Elephant’s greatest mores and themes are present throughout the album, though ever-evolving. From Matt Schultz’s familiar wailing on “Sweetie Little Jean" to the stark Rolling Stones-esque rollercoaster that is “Cold Cold Cold," it heavily mixes their brand of manic bravado with sixties rock n’ roll pop whimsy. 

TMIP artfully toes the line between alternative and radio-ready, being much more direct and polished than records past, though this is more a testament to the maturation of Matt Schultz’s lyrical and melodic presence, rather than the involvement of a ubiquitous rock personality. Where previous Auerbach collaborations did fall victim to this (Lana Del Rey), TMIP comes off as entirely a product of the group’s effort.

Tell Me I’m Pretty is also arguably Cage the Elephant’s best recorded album to date, and though it does have variances from what’s become their “sound,” there’s really no reason to fault the band for wanting to expand their sonic catalog. Should they not want to alter the sound and design of previous efforts that left the group frictional and dejected? What Cage the Elephant has created on Tell Me I'm Pretty is an album that will inevitably strengthen the group’s future efforts, rather than being shackled to a particular vibe or genre. It may not shatter with the same chaotic dynamism along the way, but it does manage to be, well, pretty.