Mr. Lamar and The Duality Dance

How the "luther" video helped me embrace my "both/and"-ness

I feel deeply connected to Kendrick Lamar.

I initially typed this sentence and deleted it because it’s kind of wild. Para-social relationships (a term I just learned, by the way) are plaguing our society and how we interact with the familiar and unfamiliar alike. It’s easy to be exposed to someone’s art or public persona and feel like they just “get you,” for better or worse. For example, we see the “worst” of that scenario outlined perfectly in the music video for Tyler The Creator’s song “Noid.” Now granted, I would never commit these crimes, mainly because my fear of being embarrassed typically outweighs my desire to talk to celebrities anyone (except for that one night at the NoMad Ritz Carlton when I approached Jay Ellis and asked if he’d take a pic with me and my homegirls). However, although it’s a very relatable experience, feeling deeply connected to someone you’ve never met can also be kind of a cringe one.

And yet, here we are, and the sentence still remains.

I think my sentiments come from the fact that Kendrick's discography has underscored my relationship with analysis and research. It was Kendrick’s “Sing About Me, I’m Dyin’ of Thirst” that my high school sweetheart broke down for me in a Best Buy parking lot on Election Night 2012. That was the first time I realized that music isn’t just music. In 2016, I stumbled upon Cole Cuchna’s first-ever season of Dissect, where he analyzed To Pimp A Butterfly word-for-word, bar-for-bar. That podcast showed me how music isn’t just music. I have been a part of other artistic endeavors — like New Jazz Underground’s latest project, Dyin’ of Thirst (did I mention that I sing?), which pays homage to the rapper’s extensive catalog. Wherever I am in life, Kendrick’s music has always been right there with me.

So yes. I am deeply invested in the notion (delusion?) that Kendrick just “gets me.” And the “luther” music videos further proves it.

I entered 2025 declaring that it would be my year of “both/and,” and that this year would be where I fully ground myself in decadent duality. It’s me removing the parameters I have placed around myself concerning my career and how I show up as a creative — to not feel pressured to check one box but to check each one that feels appropriate.

What I love about “luther” and gnx is that, among many stories, it also tells a story of duality. Kendrick has seemingly found resolve in showing up fully as himself. He is your quadruple-entendre activist-rapper and the cutie-patootie who cranks out TikTok bops. He is both “reincarnated” and “peekaboo” — both Pro-Black and Kodak Black (not my favorite example, but that’s another article for another day).

In this post, I’ll discuss the two times where I felt undeniably seen by the “luther” video. This visual not only speaks to the artist’s duality but grounds him as a student of Black American Music, Black Aesthetic, and Negro Folk Traditions. Many of these thoughts presented are regurgitated subjects from old Link in the Chain episodes. I have included hyperlinks to the corresponding ones if you’d like to check them out.

The Sample and its Sampler

For me, the standout moment of the video is when it tips its hat to the song's sample “If This World Were Mine,” performed by Luther Vandross and Cheryl Lynn. The OG song is woven beautifully into the visual, enhancing the narrative arc and never feeling inappropriately placed. It appears three times: at the 01:00 mark, where only the opening bass line can be heard, around the two-minute mark, where it is played in the elevator from which Kendrick's love interest descends, and finally, at the end of the video, where we see Kendrick and SZA interacting with their partners while it plays in the background.

There is something particularly special about Kendrick's use of this song as a sample and as a diegetic piece (music with a logical source within a film's narrative e.g., a live band, a car stereo, etc.). Aside from it being one of those "I want a love that feels like this" songs, “If This World Were Mine” harkens back to a memory collectively held by Black Folks: The Wood. Released in 1999, The Wood is a certified hood classic. It is a coming-of-age story about Mike, a kid from North Carolina who moves to Inglewood, California. He makes two new friends, Roland and Slim, and the three find themselves in all types of antics — like witnessing a corner store robbery and Roland drunkenly going MIA on his wedding day.

“If This World Were Mine” is first introduced in the movie after Mike meets his love interest, Alicia. Her brother Stacy, a well-known Blood, drops Mike off at the school dance and reveals that this is his sister's favorite song. Stacy gives Mike simple instructions: if the DJ plays the tune, approach Alicia and ask her to dance. The song is a leitmotif for Mike and Alicia's romantic voyage throughout the film. It pops up at the party and again on the radio while Mike and Alicia share an intimate moment in her bedroom (similar to that of SZA and her love interest in the “luther”).

I believe that Kendrick includes this song for a few reasons. Although the song isn’t particularly indicative of the West Coast, The Wood unapologetically is. While gnx is not Kendrick's only project that reinforces his allegiance to Los Angeles, it is arguably his most pronounced. Using this song triggers a sense of nostalgia for those who are familiar with the movie and what it represents. Playing the original and not limiting it to a chopped-up loop allows us as listeners to transport back to the moment where Mike and Alicia feel their first spark. It picks up where The Wood leaves off: the puppy love is now full-grown, and the couple explore the possibilities of their connection.

It's also worth mentioning that before being covered by Luther and Cheryl “If This World Were Mine” was first sung by Marvin Gaye and Tammi Terrell for their 1967 album United. Kendrick and SZA add to the long lineage of Black artists keeping this duet alive (they also do this on SZA’s 30 for 30 — again, another post for another day).

Red Pill, Blue Pill

“luther” is also as aesthetically pleasing as much as it is sonically. The video, directed by Karena Evans, is a masterclass in storytelling. Evans, a Canadian-born director, is most known for directing popular Drake videos like “Nice For What” and “God’s Plan” (which — what did Kendrick say on “Not Like Us”? “Rabbit hole is still deep / I can go further, I promise”? The man is diabolical). However, this videos hits a different note than its predecessors.

The video volleys between being shown in black and white and in technicolor, with the technicolor scenes color graded as muted cool tones. Everything about this visualizer is astounding: the jarring fluorescent hallway lights; the unapologetically Black furniture thoughtfully placed throughout the scenes; and the strong architectural presence (concrete, yet rounded, soft/smooth edges; dichotomy). It elicits the same memories as The Wood. We are acquainted with these images and know them well. You’ve walked down that hallway before and been in that restaurant after hours with your significant other. It all feels familiar.

Aside from its nostalgic essence, though, something in particular caught my eye: the use of the colors red and blue. Whether it is the car covered by a red sheet (gnx Deluxe on the way?), SZA’s flaming red locs, or the cobalt blue church pew that she and Kendrick both sit on, these two shades are the most prominent of them all. I admittedly have never seen The Matrix, but I do know the yin and yang nature of these colors. While their presence speaks to Lamar’s dualism, I’d like to think that the colors also represent the rapper’s nationalism and how he has asserted Hip-Hop as a Black American art form.

Kendrick's visuals throughout the rap beef against Drake (including the Not Like Us video, his Super Bowl announcement, and the Super Bowl performance) include strong notions of the Black body being inherently American. Where Black folks have (rightfully so) distanced themselves from the American flag and other aspects of Americana, Kendrick has embraced it. In Link’s latest episode, I, Too, Sing America, I discuss the uneasy space that many Black people exist in: the reality where nationalism and pride should be our birthright, but many cannot accept it due to America’s crimes against us.

I do not believe that “luther” is a political statement — far from it, to be honest. However, I think Kendrick’s continuous use of this palette is a calling card. The reason why he won the battle against Drake (this is not subjective, he absolutely won lol) is not because he can rap quintuple entendres, but because he is a Black American man producing a Black American art form. It is the same reasoning for why his use of “If This World Were Mine” is so effective (which I discuss in two Link episodes: Ballad The Beautiful and Tell ‘Em Kendrick Did It). His intimate connection to the culture is his birthright. His respect for the art form is instinctual.

So yes, when I say, "I feel deeply connected to Kendrick," it is not me showing up to his favorite restaurant hoping to meet him or deciding to tattoo his face on my bicep (although I do have a TPAB butterfly tattoo, mind your business). I feel in sync with the artist because he is modeling something I hope to achieve within myself: taking up space, accepting all of who I am, and reaching back in order to propel forward.