Walker Hayes to perform live at Notre Dame in April

Walker Hayes, a popular country music star, will come to Notre Dame during IDEA Week in April, ExperienceND announced in an email Thursday.

Hayes will perform at the Purcell Pavilion in the Joyce Center on Saturday, April 15. He will be joined by special guests Ingrid Andress and BRELAND. His performance will kick off IDEA Week, a Notre Dame-hosted “innovation festival” open to the public, according to its website.

Tickets to the concert will be available on presale to the Notre Dame community prior to general admission. The presale will run from Jan. 14 at 10 a.m. to Jan. 26 at 10 p.m. with a limit of two tickets per person. The general sale will start Jan. 27 at 10 a.m. and will be held on Ticketmaster’s website.

The email said more information, including a link to purchase tickets, will be released soon.


How does Arctic Monkeys’ ‘The Car’ fare after a month’s journey?

Arctic Monkeys is one of the most well-loved rock bands of the 21st century. Hailing from Sheffield, England, this quartet has reached international fame over the past two decades. They’ve garnered a loyal fan base, put out albums relatively consistently and have created high expectations for the quality of their work — so how does “The Car” measure up?

Released on Oct. 21, “The Car” is Arctic Monkeys’ seventh studio album. Since the band’s massive success with “AM” in 2013, they’ve had a change in the direction of their music, and this album reflects that. Many long-time fans were displeased with the successor to “AM,” “Tranquility Base Hotel & Casino,” due to major alterations in the overall sound that characterized the band in years prior. 

While many aspects of their music shifted, two of the most notable changes are frontman Alex Turner’s vocal style and drummer Matt Helders’ overall role. 

Turner’s voice over the time between “AM” and “Tranquility Base Hotel & Casino” matured drastically, no longer alluring and suave but rather aggressive and undisciplined. In “The Car,” his voice retains a bit of its aggression, but it sounds more soothing and delicate, reflecting the shift in the albums’ lyrical components and structures.

Helders’ involvement is a different ordeal. Since the band’s origins, they have had a heavy metal influence, from percussive elements — specifically, the drums. With “Tranquility Base,” it seemed that Helders barely played anything. This is similarly true with “The Car,” but he appears to regain a bit of playing time, not to mention that he photographed the picture for the cover of the LP. 

Overall, I think the album is solid. Personally, it takes me a long time to decide if I actually enjoy new music released by my favorite artists, and after a month of listening, I’ve come to my conclusion. 

The lyrical depth and complexity echoes that of “Humbug,” “Tranquility Base” and one of the albums from Turner’s side project — The Last Shadow Puppets — titled “Everything You’ve Come To Expect.” One aspect of this album that I find unique compared to the others is its self-reflective nature. The band has covered a range of topics over the years, but Turner has very rarely made a retrospective of his work in Arctic Monkeys. 

Another thing I enjoy about the lyrics is their balance of seriousness and emotional depth with humor. Despite being able to compose music and write lyrics that can be utterly gut-wrenching and tear-jerking, they’ve managed to make “ur mom” jokes and talk of Lego Napoleon movies sound eloquent. 

Speaking of such, Arctic Monkeys have continued to use cinema to inspire their work. This album in particular draws from popular film scores and cinematic themes, though a few of their past works have done a similar thing. 

My criticisms are few but, I believe, significant. The whole album feels sleepy. There are not many upbeat songs, and the whole album takes on a similar tone. There’s nothing wrong with this, but it’s definitely not something you can enjoy well unless you set aside time to intently listen. 

I also find that their new sound has taken quite a bit to get used to. I’ve been a fan for a while, and I appreciate and enjoy their new music — especially since it means they’re making what they actually want to make rather than trying to conform to certain expectations. For new and old fans alike, this can be challenging. 

Regardless of these criticisms, I think this is one of Arctic Monkeys’ most artistic and meaningful pieces of work, and it signals great things ahead. I hope that they continue to hone their divergence from the mainstream and their sonic experimentation. 

Album: “The Car”

Artist: Arctic Monkeys 

Label: Domino

Favorite tracks: “Sculptures Of Anything Goes,” “Jet Skis On The Moat,” “Body Paint”

Shamrocks: 4 out of 5

Contact Anna Falk at


‘Stick Season’: An ode to New England

Noah Kahan teased his newest album “Stick Season” as an ode to New England. When he released his first single, the namesake of his album, it blew up on Tik Tok, and the once-niche indie singer was thrown into stardom. The single “Stick Season” was released on June 8, while his second single “Northern Attitude” was later released on Sept. 16. 

Kahan’s album captures a sense of nostalgia for a region many people have never even been to. Stick season is a term coined for the transition in Vermont from fall to winter. He opens the album with his two singles, both of which encapsulate the changing of the seasons.

The album follows this pattern as well with the first seven songs on the track list being more upbeat, with a quick strum of the guitar in the background of lyrics about love and memories. While fall may be considered a depressing time of year, there is something about the beauty of the changing of the leaves that we simply cannot hate. The first new song of the album is “All My Love.” This track, just like many of the songs on this album, talks about forgiveness and lost love. “Now I know your name, but not who you are”, Kahan sings, “there ain’t a drop of bad blood, it’s all my love.” This sentiment of yearning for what was, but also accepting the passing of time, follows throughout the album. 

“She Calls Me Back” takes its spot as track four, and again has the fun guitar strums in the background as Kahan sings about a love that once was. It is in the fifth track “Come Over” where the audience sees its first shift to a darker tone. Especially in contrast to “She Calls Me Back”, in “Come Over” we hear Kahan’s longing for the love that he once had. “I don’t think that I can take this bed getting any colder,” he sings before repeating the name of the song. 

“Everywhere, Everything” is when the audience really sees the shift of the season and the album. Despite also following the story of two lovers, this song takes a much more melancholic outlook on love. He wants nothing more than to die with his lover’s hand in his. He wishes to rot, just as does everything at the turn of the seasons. Regardless of the more pessimistic tone in this song, it is still relatively upbeat when compared to “Orange Juice”, his next track. 

While all of his previous songs had a darker tone toward love and nostalgia, “Orange Juice” follows the tale of a friend who has struggled with sobriety. The soft strum of the guitar combined with Kahan’s gentle voice contrasts with the second half of the song, where he can sense the frustration with the situation, a struggle with sobriety familiar to many. 

The remaining songs all add onto each other, and Kahan perfectly transitions from a beautiful fall season to the dark uncertainty of winter. It mirrors his transformation from a singer from Strafford, Vermont to performing in front of a national audience. 

While the first half definitely has a lighter mood than the second, mental health is another theme present throughout the album. From the start, medication and trauma are intertwined with the lyrics. This does not distract from the overall album, but rather deepens the meanings and intention of each song. It is a personal album for Kahan, and we see this the best in his final song “The View Between Villages.” 

If you instantly repeat the album after listening to “The View Between Villages” it would be hard to imagine that it belongs in the same one as “Stick Season.” But Kahan so beautifully transitions from one song to another that the audience is simply immersed in the beauty of the album. 

“The View Between Villages” is the perfect ending to Kahan’s love letter to New England and his childhood. Any college student can relate to the feeling of being trapped between two stages in life, and this song encapsulates those emotions perfectly. 

“A minute from home but I feel so far from it,” he sings as the chorus starts to pick up. We feel his anger, frustration and confusion, all before the guitar slows down, and the audience is left with an ambiance of nothingness. For the final minute of the album, there are no lyrics, and the audience is forced to sit and think. 

This album feels like a wave rushing over you, and there is no better time to listen to it than when the leaves are falling and the first bit of crispiness is hitting the air. 

Artist: Noah Kahan

Album: “Stick Season” 

Favorite tracks: “Homesick,” “The View Between Villages”

If you like: Gregory Alan Isakov, Dean Lewis

Shamrocks: 5 out of 5

Contact Olivia Schatz at


Underlined passages

On the R train from Union Square to Prince Street, I sit across from a girl who seems to radiate the very signification of “cool”. Her red curls fall into place like puzzle pieces, a beguiling smile in her eyes underneath her mask. A seemingly careless outfit, yet its nonchalance manifests itself through all the right pieces: perfectly tattered boots, a vintage-looking leather bag, the rings on her fingers that surely were collected from a plethora of farmers’ markets and local jewelers. But it’s her shirt that catches my eye — a purple long-sleeve with graphics promoting a band I have never heard of. 

The screech of the subway lets out dozens of commuters, invariably busy, impatient. Dozens of others rush in to take their seats. We live our lives in shared fragments, coexisting in each other’s perception for fleeting moments. The moments pass, and we return to being inconsequential strangers. 

On my phone, I scroll through the band’s discography and add a couple of songs to my playlist. A local band from the city, with a great sound and a small, loyal clan of listeners. In the next weeks, I tirelessly have their music playing on repeat. At some point, my love for this band becomes my own genuine prerogative, but until then, I look at the album cover and think about the stranger on the subway, the transient timeframe in which I established my admiration for her first impression. I think about the irony of the way I subconsciously emulate the distinct authenticity I saw in this girl, and how this must be the same unspoken irony of our constant pursuit of individuality, and simultaneously, conformity. 

The human longing for belonging is evident in our everyday compliance to conventionality. Yet while we are so willing to allow others’ dispositions to color our own, we are preoccupied with the desire to be different, to be individual. 

Walter Benjamin illustrates this best in “The Work of Art in the Age of Mechanical Reproduction.” In his essay, he discusses the notion that a work of art “has always been reproducible”. From a strip of negative film can surface countless copies of the same photograph. The authenticity of an entity is found in “the essence of all that is transmissible from its beginning […] to the history which it has experienced”. The grandeur of the photograph is the moment you were living when the subject was captured, an exotic landscape oceans away or a memorable dinner party that took place years ago. As you look through the viewfinder and press the shutter, you immortalize it as a piece of your personal records. A prerequisite of authenticity, Benjamin writes, is the existence of the original. His idea is that authenticity is permanence — reproducibility is volatility. 

I am perpetually emulating the essence of the things I see around me. Fragments of our image, when taken in on their own, rather than in whole, are mirrored in everyone else in our lives. The pieces of my identity — in the things I say, the things I feel or the things I write — are just as easily found in other people. In fact, I’ve come to terms with the idea that very little of me is thoroughly distinctive or individual. But while the negative I receive from the film lab may reproduce hundreds of copies of the same photograph, the solid metal of the camera and the grip of my fingers around it as I take a portrait of my friends is, as Benjamin puts it, my authenticity, my permanence.  

In an attempt to be a better writer, I underline the notably romantic, jarring or poetic passages I come across while I read. When I revisit a book, I flip through the pages to find these underlines, scrutinizing the diction, the wording, the techniques that the author implores. My ventures to absorb beautiful writing in hopes to translate another writer’s brilliance into my own is often my only goal in reading, even more than grasping the plot or message of the book. I fall in love with the way strangers laugh, the way the woman in the store intonates her sentences, the gentle mannerisms of the barista taking my order. I emulate all the things I admire, in conviction that the sum of these parts will someday formulate a concrete authenticity of my own. 

At Notre Dame, we are always waiting for the next opportunity to impress someone. We look to others and silently measure our dedication, our passion, our sense of direction in comparison to theirs. Being a member of such an explicit community, coming together for the mutually agreed intention of pursuing quality education, the influence our time here will have on us transcends the academic skills we learn in the classroom. Our proximity to equally motivated, bright young adults exposes us to a whole multitude of people within whom we will find specks and slivers to mirror. 

“Even the most perfect reproduction of a work of art is lacking in one element,” Benjamin writes in his essay. “Its presence in time and space, its unique existence at the place where it happens to be.” My presence in time and space is this: I sit in the corner seat of a cafe and I try to remember all the artwork, places and individuals that have charmed me in my life, the way my imitation of these entities have refined my own identity into someone who I slowly grow more comfortable with every day. 

Shouting hello to a friend on the sidewalk on the way to class. A phone call from a family member back home. Sometimes, our reflection in others’ mirrors comes in brief instances. In the warmth and love we feel in our mundane routines, we emulate these feelings. And in this, we find permanence. 

Reyna Lim is a sophomore double majoring in finance and English. She enjoys writing about her unsolicited opinions, assessing celebrity homes in Architectural Digest videos and collecting lip gloss. Reach out with coffee bean recommendations and ‘80s playlists at

The views expressed in this column are those of the author and not necessarily those of The Observer.


Why I ‘worship’ Taylor Swift

When Taylor Swift first rose to fame, her flocks of fans, passionately known as Swifties, formed shortly thereafter. As a proud member of this group, I can attest to the personal benefit it brought to my own life.

After that first Taylor Swift concert I experienced years ago, my mom bought me a bracelet to commemorate the special evening. She never realized this at the time, but that two-dollar purchase would turn out to mean everything to me. Once I had that bracelet on, I subconsciously decided never to take it off. I wore it every day following that unforgettable night, even to middle school dances.

On one particular occasion — after having just completed my second day of an arduous high school math class — I went to lunch to decompress and ended up randomly sitting next to a girl with blonde hair and bright blue eyes, who also happened to be sporting the same rubber Taylor Swift bracelet as me. Nervous to strike up a conversation but eager to make a friend, I turned to her and said, “Are you a Taylor Swift fan?” as if the bracelet wrapped around her wrist did not already answer my question. When she confirmed that my assumptions were true, I couldn’t have been happier, and I know that she felt the same way, too. From that point forward, a friendship like no other blossomed, all thanks to Taylor Swift.

Because Taylor brought me my high school best friend, one person I have always “worshiped” is her — in a non-literal way, of course.

To a majority of people, hearing that I “worship” Taylor Swift might come across as extremely ironic, especially since she and I have never even met and she quite literally has no idea I exist. However, to me, she is everything. Taylor is the epitome of kindness and generosity. She gives to those around her without expecting anything in return, whether it comes in the form of paying for someone’s rent or visiting terminally sick children in the hospital. The environment that she creates for her fans is very welcoming. One thing that people who have met her will surely tell you is that when you have a conversation with her, she makes you feel like you are her best friend and the only person in the room who truly matters.

While she is definitely someone I look up to on a personal level, I also respect the way she carries herself in the business world. Most recently, she had her album recordings stolen out from underneath her. The songs she had spent hours handwriting on her bedroom floor were now gone. The songs that teenage girls like myself related to now belonged to someone else, a person who was hungry to make money off her fame and success. Taylor knew that not only was this a devastation to herself, but also to her millions of loyal fans. So she took matters into her own hands, announcing that she would be re-recording each one of the albums that no longer belonged to her. I have a deep admiration not only for how she responded from an artistic standpoint, but also for the fact that she did not let power-hungry record label walk all over her and steal her pride and joy. She set an example of right and wrongfor her fans — an example that will surely never be forgotten.

Even though Taylor does not know who I am, I still consider her one of the greatest people to “worship.” I aspire to be like her, someone who does not back down from a fight while also making sure to live their life acting in kindness and making the world a better place. I worship the humble way in which she carries herself when she interacts with her fans and how she is an example for those within the music industry. No matter where my life takes me, I hope to act in the way Taylor does with such grace and compassion. And at the end of the day, I know I will never be too tired to turn on a Taylor Swift song.

Isabelle Kause is a sophomore at Notre Dame studying sociology and minoring in journalism. When she’s not busy, you can find her listening to country music or Taylor Swift or trying out new makeup/skincare products. She can be reached at

The views expressed in this column are those of the author and not necessarily those of The Observer.


Let’s go to a concert

Concerts not only make life better but did you know that they also help you live longer? Now, before you roll your eyes and sarcastically express your surprise, you must listen to my reasoning. It is no surprise that concerts make life better, as they are the essence of fun, but there is scientific evidence that shows that regularly attending concerts can increase your lifespan by nine years… almost a whole decade.

In a study, O2 and Goldsmith’s University Associate Lecturer and behavioral scientist Patrick Fagan conducted psychometric testing and heart rate tests (often used for various physical and mental activity tests) on a group of subjects who then attended a concert. After the first 20 minutes of the gig, they found that the subjects already had a 25% increase in feelings of happiness, self-worth and community, as well as a 75% increase in pure mental stimulation. Some may argue that these results are similar to those found when people listen to music independently, but these statistics show that physically experiencing music (especially in the presence of others) can not only bring about an abundance of bliss but also impact your overall health.

Despite this study being considered semi-old news, I have been thinking about it a lot recently. Since I was 7 years old, I have regularly attended concerts. Over my 21 (almost 22) years of life, I have attended about 75 shows — big and small. Going to concerts is my hobby; it’s something that brings me an immense amount of joy and I know this is true for others as well. However, in 2020, everything stopped; the world halted. For almost two years, live music was extinct, and it was during this time that I came to realize how desolate the world felt due to the void in music and the lack of communal experience. It’s important to note that the auditory element is the impetus for creating the experience.

Thankfully, 2022 is witnessing a powerful resurgence of music, but this year has made me reflect on the time when these shared events were impossible. We are living in uncertain times, and, while this might sound cliché, music has the power to unite us all. We need live music more than ever.

As a result, I am going to give you an assignment. Find a concert, whether that is a backyard gig, a downtown block-party jam, a DIY basement show, a big stadium performance and/or a tiny theater concert, and go add a decade to your life. Make new friends, dance until your feet hurt and sing until you can’t speak. There is nothing guaranteed in this world other than the power and pleasures of music.

Contact Willoughby Thom at


Fall is here, but I swear, summer is forever

Perhaps the start of fall isn’t marked by last Thursday’s Autumnal Equinox at 9:04 p.m. Eastern Time — maybe it’s the August 30 return of the Pumpkin Spiced Latte to Starbucks, or the day the box fans start to disappear from dorm room windows. Maybe it’s the first chill of fall you feel on an overcast day on campus or the slow, painful retirement of your flip-flops. However you define this shift, it’s happening, and everyone’s feeling it. 

Although I want nothing more than to embrace the turn of the new season, I find myself holding on for dear life to the summertime. On chilly late-night Grotto trips and sweatshirt-clad walks to DeBart, I’m thinking about legendary nights with hometown friends and summer romances. I’m thinking about saturated sunsets and mountain air and feet-dangling-out-of-car-windows. But whenever I feel this sense of loss, I remind myself that summer can be bottled. I’ve found my summer during this seasonal transition in a few songs.

The first song is “BIKE NO MORE” by brotherkenzie, which can best be described as a haunting, unfinished love letter. The dark piano melody coupled with the eerie vocals creates an otherworldly feeling. The lyrics are distant and vague like those lingering moments from summer: “Don’t you think I know you best / When you’re fast asleep on my chest? / I’ve still got so much to say.” Despite its lack of specificity lyrically, the song is made more vivid in its repetition and sonic mood. It feels like stomping through frozen flower beds, moody and satisfying. 

“Sweet Disposition” by The Temper Trap, an anthemic song popularized by 500 Days of Summer, opens with a glittery, tangy guitar riff that builds gradually to an epic pre-chorus. The pre-chorus is a series of snapshots that encapsulate youth and recklessness: “A moment, a love, a dream, aloud / A kiss, a cry, our rights, our wrongs.” The song invites listeners to plug in their own kisses, cries and mistakes — it’s a montage of our youth. It’s frantic and desperate, but also slow, mesmerizing and complex. 

The most gut-wrenching song is “Wish on an Eyelash” by Mallrat. The song is less than a minute long but creates a mood of longing that survives the track. Singer Grace Kathleen Elizabeth Shaw delivers crisp, angelic vocals detailing her pining: “I made a wish on an eyelash / Made a wish on elevens / Made a wish on my birthday / Talk about you to heaven.” The song is ethereal and somber, reminiscent of summers spent full of yearning, blowing on dandelions and hoping for things seemingly out of reach. 

“September” by Roy Blair is the most obvious transitional song for this time of year. It chronicles the end of a relationship, but with a glimmer of hope for the future. Blair contextualizes the narrative, singing, “I haven’t seen your face in about three months now.” He includes concrete images of a drunk walk home and his former lover’s Honda Accord, with commentary and reflection. He pleads, “Wish that we still talked / Even if the talk was small.” The song is as much in the now as it is in the past; it is one foot in and one foot out. But, above all, the song is about acceptance that all good things must end, whether that be a season or a relationship.

Surf Curse’s “Lost Honor” is an upbeat grunge rock song that is full of anticipation and excitement. Guitarist Jacob Rubeck told Flood Magazine, “This song is about fighting for love that feels right.” From New Year’s memories and hands on hips, frontman Nick Rattigan details and discerns precious moments, but asserts that “A final kiss never dies.” When I hear this song, I feel so sure that nothing ever dies. Nothing ever goes away.

The beauty of these songs is in their breadth, but mostly in their ability to capture this indescribable feeling that we call Summer. The songs are full of longing and anger and mourning and freedom. The songs sound like those invaluable fast food runs with hometown friends and Culver’s runs in South Bend with school friends. The songs sound like curling up in a ball in your childhood bedroom and sobbing salty tears at the Grotto. The songs transcend time and place. They are not summer songs — they are forever songs. Because surely our falls will be full of longing; surely our winters will be full of joy; surely our springs will be full of “rights” and “wrongs.” Because every season brings so much new and so much of the same. 

As we trade our t-shirts and shorts for sweatshirts and jeans, I hope we all call upon those moments of bliss from the summertime with the knowledge that bliss will return in time. Maybe we won’t find it in Hesburgh Library at 2 a.m. cramming for a midterm, but we will find it somewhere in Notre Dame, Indiana, perhaps when we least expect it. 

Kate Casper (aka, Casper, Underdog, or Jasmine) is from Northern Virginia, currently residing in Breen-Phillips Hall. She strives to be the best waste of your time. You can contact her at


J.I.D’s triumph over circumstance: ‘The Forever Story’

Since signing to J. Cole’s Dreamville Records in early 2017, Atlanta rapper J.I.D (real name Destin Choice Route) has built a name for himself not through the absurd style, vapid lyricism and obscene amounts of bass that defined the “Soundcloud rap” era in which he came up, but through a commitment to two things too often lost in modern hip-hop: honesty and craft. The rapper whose stage name originates from his grandma’s description of him as “jittery” has never lost that same restless swagger from when he was young, and J.I.D’s latest album “The Forever Story” puts on display his most vulnerable, cohesive and thoughtful work to date without losing sight of the hard-hitting beats and elaborate flows that put him on the map.

The opening track “Galaxy” almost directly reflects “Doo Wop,” the intro track to J.I.D’s first album, “The Never Story.” This immediately introduces one of the key themes of the album, which is the juxtaposition of where the rapper sees himself now — sitting atop or near the top of the metaphorical mountain that is the rap game — versus where he was when he first signed to Dreamville or even first started making music. While “The Never Story” served as a meditation on J.I.D’s life growing up in Atlanta and how the mindset of his youth still influences him in the present, “The Forever Story” represents a feeling of triumph over circumstance and an emphasis on who he is and has become.

The first five tracks after the intro are the “hits” of the album, including the two singles “Dance Now” and “Surround Sound,” with the latter featuring an expertly crafted Aretha Franklin sample not at all out-of-line with the themes of the album. “The Forever Story” is a celebration of what made J.I.D the man and artist he is today, and he uses both samples and features expertly to tie that together. Sampling the “queen of soul” along with somber reflection and singing on tracks like “Sistanem” and “Can’t Make U Change (ft. Ari Lennox)” demonstrate how his parents’ music has pervaded J.I.D’s own. Cutting in The Last Poets – a group largely responsible for the formation of hip-hop as a genre — to the beginning of “Raydar” and features from Lil Wayne and Yasiin Bey exemplify the appreciation J.I.D has for the origins of both his style and the genre as a whole.

The emotional core of “The Forever Story,” however, comes from the three-track run of “Kody Blu 31,” “Bruddanem” and “Sistanem.” “Bruddanem” and “Sistanem” delve into J.I.D’s sense of kinship and loyalty toward his brothers and sister, and the comparison of these feelings shows how uniquely important these different kinds of relationships are while still expressing the lessons his family has taught him. The cornerstone (or “feature presentation” as it’s described at the beginning of the track) of the record is “Kody Blu 31,” a memorial of sorts to J.I.D’s friend Kody who died when he was young. The chorus on this track melodically advises the listener to “swang on” in what seems to represent the central message of the album — a message which resonates deeply as a reflection on grief and what it means to keep living.

This record is so lyrically dense that there is no way anyone could explore all of the phenomenal work in both writing and delivery in one review. While there is an impressive verse or two on every song, the standout tracks in terms of lyrics were “Crack Sandwich,” an exploration of the chaotic yet tight relationship between J.I.D, his six siblings and his parents, and “2007,” the outro to the album which dropped as a music video a week prior and does not appear on Spotify due to clearance issues. It illustrates in both verse and voice memos the story of J.I.D’s life from 2007, when J. Cole dropped his first mixtape “The Come Up,” to 2017, when J.I.D signed to Dreamville Records and dropped his first album.

“The Forever Story” easily constitutes J.I.D’s best and most complete body of work to date and safely establishes him as a modern great alongside the likes of Kendrick Lamar and his mentor, J. Cole.

Artist: J.I.D

Album: “The Forever Story”

Label: Dreamville Records

Favorite Songs: “Crack Sandwich,” “Can’t Punk Me (feat. EARTHGANG)” and “2007”

If you like: Kendrick Lamar, EARTHGANG, Smino, Danny Brown

Shamrocks: 4.5 out of 5

Brendan Nolte

Contact Brendan at