The first problem is the lack of riff-based development. In metal, even when a passage is built on a pedal tone or modal framework, there is a sense of forward propulsion. Riffs mutate, expand, and often undergo motivic transformation. On this album, most of the tracks are built on static grooves or looped vamps. There is little in the way of modulation, no adventurous use of chromatic mediants, tritone substitutions, or metric modulation. The result feels harmonically stagnant.

Rhythmically, everything sits too comfortably. Yes, there is syncopation and swing, but compared to polymetric layering in Meshuggah or the shifting tuplets of technical death metal, the beats here feel locked into a box. There are almost no surprises—no sudden tempo changes, no displaced downbeats, no extended phrases that break symmetry. It is groove music, but for someone used to complex time signatures like 7/8 alternating with 9/8, it just sounds predictable.

The harmonic language leans heavily on extended jazz chords, but they are often left unresolved, circling around ii–V progressions or static minor sevenths. In metal, dissonance is embraced and resolved in brutal, unexpected ways through diminished runs, phrygian dominance, or chromatic clusters crashing into power chords. Here, dissonance is rare, and when it appears it does not feel weaponized. Instead, it is smoothed over into atmosphere rather than used as a source of tension and release.

Ultimately, To Pimp a Butterfly feels more like background texture than something to sink my teeth into. I respect the layering of funk, soul, and hip-hop, but for someone raised on counterpoint woven through triple guitar harmonies, odd-time breakdowns, and modal shredding, the album’s reliance on static grooves and smooth harmonic cycles comes across as musically underwhelming.