From the Ringer Podcast Network, this is Dissect, long-form musical analysis broken into short

digestible episodes. This is episode 17 of our season-long analysis of Kendrick Lamar's,

Mr. Moral, and The Big Stepers. I'm your host, Kolkushna. Last on my dissect, we began our analysis of Kendrick Lamar's Mother I Sober,

covering the song's first two verses and chorus. It was there we witnessed Kendrick standing

before a broken mirror, finally confronting the reflection he's been trying to escape for decades.

He bravely described feeling frozen and powerless while witnessing his mother being abused at age 5

and later learned that his uncle took revenge on the family member responsible.

We also heard Kendrick being repeatedly asked about being touched by a cousin, a false accusation

that Kendrick blamed himself for,

fracturing his sense of self and planting the seeds of lifelong guilt, shame, and distrust.

Lyrically, these details were revealed in shards, in lyrical fragments, reflecting the nonlinear,

disorienting structure of trauma itself. The song's haunting chorus delivered by Beth Gibbons gave voice to the fragile despair

beneath Kendrick's emotional journey, a wish to be anybody but himself.

Finally, interspersed throughout each verse was Kendrick's growing self-awareness and personal

transformation, as he begins to detach from his ego and pain body, allowing himself

to feel his emotions fully,

soberly, without numbing or denial.

All of this leads us to Mother I Sober's third and final verse, the emotional apex of the

entire album, a 48-bar release of everything Kendrick's carried for decades.

It's here that Kendrick not only liberates himself, but begins the sacred

work of liberating all those who see themselves in his story and are ready to follow his lead.

I was never high. I was never drunk. Never held my mind. I need control. They handed me some

...