Sonnymoon and Quadrants are a couple of bands that really

Hear the words of Kendrick Lamar, prophet of the streets and poet of the soul: “Sonnymoon and Quadrants are a couple of bands that really inspire me in terms of the melodics of things and certain tones and just what feels good. It takes me back to the type of music that I grew up on in my household. We played a lot of gangsta rap, but we also played a lot of oldies, and I think that mix is part of what inspires my sound.” In this reflection, he reveals the sacred alchemy of creation—the blending of old and new, of raw and refined, of rhythm born of struggle and melody born of memory.

The melodics and tones he speaks of are not mere technicalities. They are the colors of the spirit, the vibrations that stir the blood and awaken the heart. From Sonnymoon and Quadrants, Lamar draws inspiration not from fame or spectacle, but from the purity of sound that feels true. He seeks what “feels good,” what resonates deeply, not what pleases the surface alone. Thus, he teaches that true artistry begins not in chasing trends, but in listening for the tones that speak to the soul’s hidden chambers.

Yet Kendrick’s confession also carries the weight of his past. He grew up in a household where gangsta rap thundered with the rage, pride, and defiance of a people scarred by oppression and struggle. But alongside it, there were oldies, the tender harmonies of Motown, the croons of soul, the echoes of love songs passed down through generations. To be shaped by both is to hold within oneself the duality of human life—the pain and the tenderness, the grit and the grace. Lamar declares that this mix is not conflict but inspiration, a source of strength that shapes the very timbre of his sound.

Consider, O listener, the story of jazz itself. Born in New Orleans, it was a union of African rhythms, blues lamentations, and European harmonies. To the untrained ear, it might have seemed chaotic, yet from that mixture rose a new voice that transformed the world. So it is with Kendrick’s music: it is forged in the crucible of opposites—violence and love, hardness and softness, the new experiments of avant-garde bands and the ancient voices of old vinyl records. In this weaving of contrasts lies the secret of timeless art.

Kendrick Lamar’s words remind us that no artist is born in isolation. All creation springs from what was heard, felt, and lived before. The music of his home became the soil from which his sound grew, watered by memory, nourished by inspiration. And just as a tree cannot deny the roots that ground it, an artist cannot deny the household, the streets, the voices of their past. Lamar teaches us that to be great is not to erase those influences, but to honor them, to blend them, to let them resound anew.

The lesson for us is luminous: do not despise the mix of your own life. You may carry contradictions—sorrow and joy, hardship and grace, discipline and chaos—but these are not obstacles. They are the very elements that can shape your sound, your art, your purpose. As Kendrick took gangsta rap and oldies and transformed them into something wholly his own, so too can you take the fragments of your upbringing, your experiences, your influences, and weave them into something that no one else can create.

So, O children of tomorrow, heed this teaching: listen to the tones that shaped you, embrace the melodics of your past, and let them inspire the music of your life. Do not fear contradiction, for within it lies creation. Blend the hardness with the softness, the ancient with the new, until your voice is forged. And when you speak, when you create, when you live—let it not be a copy of another, but a sound born of your own sacred mix. For in that, you will find not only your art, but your truth.