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Good Kid, M.A.A.D City was nominated for Album Of The Year, but lost to Random Access Memories by Daft Punk. Kendrick Lamar’s rap album Good Kid, m.A.A.d City (GKMC) is an excellent example of an artist negotiating this dichotomy. At one level, GKMC is a day in the life of the ghetto.
Kendrick Lamar has at last revealed the meaning of the acronym in the title of his just-leaked new album, good kid, m.A.A.d. Jan 12, 2018 - Kendrick Lamar's rap album Good Kid, m.A.A.d City (GKMC) is an excellent example of an artist negotiating this dichotomy. At one level, GKMC.
'Compton, ComptonAin't no city quite like mine.' Like many of the lyrics that constitute Kendrick Lamar's much-lauded good kid, m.A.A.d city¸ this hook seems throwaway at first glance. In fact, as a standalone song 'Compton' is lightweight; divorced of its context, there is little hiding beneath the gloss of Just Blaze's triumphant horns and clattering percussion. Surfacing as it did - prior to the album's release - the grand baton passing between Dre and Kendrick was a sobering anti-climax, bogged down by the occasion itself and not playing to the strengths of either artist.
Perhaps this wouldn't be the life-long classic that the rap media was so desperate to declare it. But Kendrick is not a singles artist, and we should have known that we were witnessing a pre-emptive victory lap. Because when 'Compton' appears in sequence at the tail end of the record, it somehow feels very different; an appropriate moment of recognition for the city to which he owes everything, but that could so easily have swallowed him whole. As it turns out 'Compton' is just the beginning of Kendrick's story. It functions here as a simple tribute, but what it fails to capture is what the album's other 11 songs do so vividly; the beating heart of the troubled, complex city which Kendrick calls home. He places the listener in his life, focusing a lens on small decisions that can have massive impact, before zooming out to reveal a thousand other kids doing the same thing – just trying to forge a path. He puts you in his family home, caught between a nagging mother and father whose love shines through eventually.
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Then you're in the car with his friends, bumping Young Jeezy and inevitably running into trouble. You're there in the club with all its illusions of pleasure; chasing girls for bragging rights; gangland clashes; quick thrills and aspirations. Compton's presence is felt every step of the way, the city where jumping off a building can be deemed as playing it safe. 
Young men are senselessly shot dead for the colours they're wearing, or for straying too far from their own neighbourhood.
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This is not some glorified fictional reality, but a real-life account from somebody who made it out alive with the level-headedness to put it into song. Even chasing after girls can leave you in a world of trouble, or rather, the wrong girl can – Sherane A.K.A Master Splinter's Daughter; credentials of a stripper from Atlanta, cousin of a gangbanger. It's there in the first song, the album's concept deftly outlined and the dangers which lie ahead are so delicately foreshadowed. Despite the tensions which weigh heavily on Kendrick's mind, he resists passing any judgement on the effects of poverty. There are few (if any) moments which could be interpreted as overtly preachy, but he's intent on helping the listener to see the world through his eyes. Although his descriptions are vivid, the experiences themselves fly by in a blur as he grasps for clarity and meaning.
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At the same time he's just a regular young man running on adrenaline and testosterone, bewitched by Sherane and led astray by his friends. There's a moment of palpable horror in 'The Art of Peer Pressure' as he's so nearly caught-out during a home invasion – just 'one lucky night with the homies.' Then there's the preposterous and brilliant 'Backseat Freestyle' which takes a raw, post-A Milli beat and runs with it, as Kendrick aligns himself with Martin Luther King while dreaming of fucking the world with an Eiffel Tower sized dick.