To say “To Pimp a Butterfly,” Kendrick Lamar’s Seminal work, aged like fine wine over the past 10 years would be a grand understatement – this album aged akin to a 1762 French Cognac. The album dubbed “TPAB” online is taught in university classrooms across the country, played at protests, featured at number 19 on Rolling Stone’s 500 Best Albums of All Time list, and hailed as one of the best, if not the best, Hip-Hop albums of all time by casual listeners and critics alike. I could parrot many past talking points when discussing this album: Extraordinary creativity, consistent theming, lyrical complexity, musical complexity, stellar production, ridiculous feature list, and conciseness in its message. Instead, I would like to celebrate the album’s 10-year anniversary (this past March 15th) by highlighting TPAB’s longevity and staying power. If you take anything from this article, it is to give this album another listen (especially with the lyrics pulled up alongside as a reference, as you will likely need them).
What I believe makes this album so remarkable is that it may not be “topped” in the foreseeable future, even by Kendrick himself. While “Untitled Unmastered,” “DAMN,” “Mr. Morale and The Big Steppers,” many of his various side projects and most recently "GNX” have been excellent, earning Lamar 37 Grammy nominations, it is hard to see TPAB being dethroned. Somehow, this album has managed to remain relevant and arguably become more relevant. Themes discussed on the album, such as racial inequality, the Black American identity, the trap of fame, exploitation, the cycle of trauma, survival in the face of great odds, the complex relationship between capitalism and the music industry, spirituality, redemption, self-love, self-loathing, institutional racism, and the intricacies of the American political system, continue to be paramount in the American struggle. Simply put, this album discusses things that are present now, will be present for the foreseeable future, and may not ever go away.
Even considering the volume of new Hip-Hop and the continued excellence of Hip-Hop artists, new and old, TPAB remains untouched. This album, to me, truly does feel like a bona fide magnum opus, somehow toeing the impossible line between timely and timeless. “To Pimp a Butterfly” is reminiscent of a great novel—one that transcends its era to speak eternal truths. It’s “The Invisible Man” with 808s, “The Fire Next Time” set to a blend of Hip-Hop, Funk, Soul, and Jazz. Ten years later, its brilliance isn’t just preserved; it’s amplified. The world caught up to Kendrick’s vision. Why? Because TPAB isn’t just music—it’s a mirror. When protests erupt over police brutality, "Alright" stands as a rallying cry. When debates about artistic exploitation flare, "Wesley’s Theory" echoes in the background. Even its sonic palette — jazz, soul, spoken word — feels fresher than ever in an era of troubles. But here’s the real magic: TPAB refuses to offer easy answers. It’s as conflicted as its creator—celebrating Black resilience while mourning self-destruction, condemning systems yet admitting complicity. That complexity is why we keep returning to it. Most "classic" albums fossilize; this one lives, breathes, and evolves.