Kendrick Lamar’s spirit is doomed. Then again, perhaps all of humanity is doomed. Maybe it’s by some sort of Intelligent Design that we wander the Earth in search of godliness, only to give in to our baser instincts as we stray further from redemption. An onerous concept, to be sure. Then again, this is a Kendrick album we’re talking about. But unlike his previous works, this concept of salvation is not explored with a cogent narrative.

Instead, DAMN. serves as a frenzied accounting of sins, an event that kicks off right as the album begins. On the cinematic opener “BLOOD.,” Kendrick is shot and presumably killed, setting off an intense journey into his reckoning as he puts his sins — and everyone else’s — on trial. It’s quite the ambitious task. Somebody tell Geraldo.

Kendrick sees his strengths and flaws as byproducts of his own humanity. On the crushing “DNA.,” he explores the historical blights of the Black community; drug sales and street violence are described as a cursed birthright. But he recognizes the upside of his heritage as well: war and peace, power and poison, pain and joy. This warring dualism has been a constant theme in Lamar’s discography (he is a Gemini, after all). It’s this acknowledgement of his blessings and curses that make the message so compelling and relatable without being preachy, regardless of hip-hop fans’ bestowing of the “messiah” label onto K. Dot.

Awareness, however, does not guarantee absolution. Nowhere is this more apparent than on the outstanding “XXX.,” where Kendrick is asked to give guidance to a man whose son has been murdered. The lust for vengeance outweighs his fear of judgment:

I can’t even keep the peace, don’t you fuck with one of ours

It be murder in the street, it be bodies in the hour

Kendrick, like many of us, is forced to make undesirable choices in perilous environments on a regular basis. When nobody’s praying for you, the weight of those choices hang heavy. This wrestling with existential dread fuels much of the album with little relief: if God’s left the building, what use is a prophet? What point is there to life if you’ll probably die anonymous? DAMN. never claims to have these answers. It only asks the questions and accepts the harsh reality on album closer “DUCKWORTH.”:

“Life is one funny motherfucker. A true comedian, you gotta love’m. You gotta trust’m.”

Blind faith is the band-aid for Kendrick’s haunted thoughts. Whether it’s God, Yahweh, Karma or Chaos, there are forces that one must submit to when dealing with moral choices coupled with the risk of sin. Sometimes, it’s not even your own actions that define your life. So much of the rapper’s fortune and blessings would be nonexistent if Top Dawg hadn’t accepted the KFC Peace Treaty offered by Kendrick’s own father. One act of kindness (or one less act of sin) eventually led to an astonishing rap career through no action of the rapper. It’s almost absurd. But it’s that absurdity that underlines the album’s search for meaning in a world that may prove to have none. We have only our own compass to guide us, with the desperate hope it won’t all be for naught.

Damn.