At the start of the year I set a challenge for myself. I said to broaden my musical horizons, I was going to listen to a new album every day. I have listened to an album every day, and every day the album I listen to is To Pimp a Butterfly by Kendrick Lamar. I didn’t even make it a day, I had to listen to it again. I just cannot describe how much I require this album. I start scratching behind my ears when I haven’t had my daily fix of Kendrick. I’ve never listened to any of his other albums either, because I know that nothing could be as good as To Pimp a Butterfly and to listen to anything else by him would therefore sully the godlike image I have for him. I want to get into hip-hop so I can understand the subtle subversions and deconstructions he brings to the genre, but I can’t bring myself to betray the radiant glory of To Pimp a Butterfly for even a second. I’ve been injecting melanin multiple times a day with the hope that one day I’ll be able to fully understand the deep and insightful racial commentary. I played King Kunta at my wedding and my wife looked like she was about to cry, she must have been overwhelmed by how Kendrick stays true to his roots and appreciates the place he grew up in. If I walked in on Kendrick fucking my wife I would thank him and congratulate her. The insightful proverb of “shit don’t change until you get up and wash your ass” has gotten me through some of the toughest times of my life. I honestly would kill myself I was never able to listen to this album again. Kendrick Lamar should be the president.