The 1997 decision to grant the Pulitzer Prize to a jazz composer certainly broke new ground, but the 2018 decision represented an even bolder divorce with tradition. There were, as always, three finalists. The most conventional work under consideration was Michael Gilbertson’s Quartet, a work for string quartet in the concert tradition. The next contender was Ted Hearne’s Sound from the Bench. This cantata for chamber choir, two electric guitars, and drums is a bit less conventional. In it, Hearne combines text from landmark Supreme Court decisions with excerpts from ventriloquism textbooks to comment on the evolving legal notion of corporate personhood. Despite any eccentricities, Gilbertson and Hearne are both conservatory-educated composers who write concert works for traditional ensembles, and are therefore typical Pulitzer Prize contenders.

More Controversy

Neither Gilbertson nor Hearne won the competition, however. Instead, the jury awarded the Pulitzer Prize to Kendrick Lamar for his hip-hop album DAMN. In doing so, they rejected 75 years of received wisdom about what kind of music is prize-worthy, instead making the bold assertion that hip hop has the potential to be “good” music and that there are criteria for judging the relative quality of hip-hop artists and tracks. How else could they identify Lamar as being the “best”? However, this effort to bring hip-hop into the world of the Pulitzers presented challenges. To begin with, DAMN. is not a literate musical work. That is to say, it did not begin life as notes on a page, and musical notation does not play a role in its preservation. This, of course, is true of most popular genres, and that leads us to the next point.

Up until 2018, only works in art music genres had been considered for the prize. Jazz, of course, was not always considered to be “art music,” but by the 1960s there was at least a strong argument being made that it ought to be, and it was possible to obtain a college degree in jazz studies. Furthermore, the specific Ellington work cited in 1965 was not a popular song, but rather an adventurous instrumental composition, while Marsalis’s 1997 composition was even more self-evidently a work of “art.” Jazz in general was not exactly popular by the time is was recognized with a Pulitzer, and the works in question were particularly cerebral. Hip-hop, on the other hand, is decidedly a popular genre.

Furthermore, Kendrick Lamar is decidedly a popular hip-hop artist. He is not a fringe figure, producing artsy, experimental tracks in the hip-hop vein for a small group of admirers. With scores of Grammy nominations, over a dozen Grammy wins, multiple million-selling albums, and a string of singles at the top of the Billboard Hot Rap charts, Lamar’s music is mainstream. In this respect, he was a new type of Pulitzer Prize winner. Before, the jury had often recognized artists who were well-known in the world of concert music, but it had never selected a winner who was genuinely popular. This raised questions not only about how “good” music can be identified but also about the purpose of the Pulitzer. In the past, it had served to boost the careers of little-known composers, or at least provided support to those creating music in a field that offered few opportunities for financial gain. Lamar needs neither fame nor money. What purpose could be served in providing him with more of both?

The answer, of course, is that the art music establishment—represented by the Pulitzer Prize jury—was seeking to make a statement about its own values. By extending the honor to Lamar, they both acknowledged the profound impact that hip-hop has had on art music composers and suggested that the categories of “art” and “popular” might not even make sense anymore. Good music is good music—so why should anyone get hung up on genre? The gap between the worlds of art and popular music still exists, of course. Nowhere is this more evident than in the awkward phrasing of the Prize jury’s citation, which describes DAMN. as “a virtuosic song collection unified by its vernacular authenticity and rhythmic dynamism that offers affecting vignettes capturing the complexity of modern African-American life.” This is not language that would speak to the average hip-hop fan. However, it does speak to classical music aficionados, and it positions DAMN. within the lineage of Pulitzer Prize-winning works.

DNA

The jury selected “DNA” as the emblematic track from the album, so we will consider that example. Most hip-hop is highly collaborative: Producers, rappers, and studio musicians work together to create individual tracks, each shaping the final product in different ways. There is seldom a single artist who decides exactly how it will sound. In the case of “DNA,” Lamar worked with Michael Len Williams II (b. 1989), a producer and rapper who has also collaborated with Gucci Mane, Miley Cyrus, Rihanna, and Beyoncé (he contributed to “Formation,” mentioned in Chapter 5). “DNA” grew out of a beat that Williams had originally prepared for Gucci Mane, but that he offered to Lamar while they were working on tracks that would eventually become part of DAMN. Lamar was inspired by Williams’s work and created the first part of “DNA.” In the recording studio, however, Lamar began rapping a capella, subsequently asking Williams to build a beat around his words.

The result is a single track in two distinct parts. At the midway point, the pulse breaks down. We hear an excerpt from a televised attack against Lamar, made by Geraldo Rivera on Fox News: “This is why I say that hip-hop has done more damage to young African Americans than racism in recent years.” Seemingly in response, Lamar’s rapping accelerates and the rhythms become staggeringly complex. Williams later stated that he “wanted it to sound like he’s battling the beat,” which it certainly does. The pulse recedes into the background during this section, encouraging the listener to focus entirely on the intense rhythmic exchanges between Lamar and his environment. The lyrics in “DNA” are wide-ranging, but they return repeatedly to issues of disenfranchisement and generational trauma in the black community. Lamar uses hip-hop to shine a light on these problems— mocking Rivera’s reactionary dismissal in the process.