By now, you’ve probably heard of Donald Glover. He’s a Grammy-nominated multi-hyphenate who has dominated the last decade in film, television, and music. He’s been in some of the biggest movies of the last few years, including Solo and the live-action remake of The Lion King, created one of the biggest hit TV shows in recent memory, Atlanta, and somehow found time to break the internet under his musical stage name, Childish Gambino.
On March 22nd, 2020 he released his fourth studio album, 3.15.20. The surprise release has fans everywhere simultaneously dancing and scratching their heads. Here are my theories about the mysterious nature of the new Gambino project.
A Long-Awaited Release
Childish Gambino’s last studio album, Awaken, My Love! came in late 2016. Then, after a year and a half of near radio-silence, musically speaking, Gambino dropped one of the hottest music videos of the decade in May 2018. “This Is America” signaled a grand reemergence and led to fans everywhere sniffing around for a new album. He followed that up in July 2018 when he released Summer Pack – EP which included the tracks “Summertime Magic” and “Feels Like Summer”. Between the three songs, a new album appeared to be imminent.
However, Gambino dove back into the shadows and left us guessing for over a year. This music-less period likely had much to do with his cinematic ventures and position as a new father. That, or you could say he was simply taking his sweet time. After much waiting and rampant speculation, it’s finally here. The release was sudden and the rollout was peculiar, though warmly greeted by fans who had been waiting almost three and a half years.
We all knew that Gambino’s next project would likely be genre-bending and somewhat experimental. Awaken, My Love! had signaled the prior while “This Is America” and Summer Pack – EP intimated the latter. Even with those projects setting the stage, none of us could have expected what he gave us with 3.15.20.
3.15.20 Is Very, Very Mysterious
3.15.20 is beautiful and jubilant in certain areas then haunting and borderline indecipherable in others. I’m not going to attempt to put a genre label on 3.15.20. That would be doing it a disservice. However, the way it blends various genres and then stitches itself together with exceedingly experimental transitions makes the album, well, unique.
Donald Glover has always been notorious about leaving the meaning of his projects unexplained and up for interpretation. Perhaps most famously, he firmly declined to offer any explanation for the meaning of his “This Is America” music video. In an interview for the release of his 2018 film Solo, the interviewer attempted to glean the significance of the music video’s ending, to which Glover replied, “I don’t want to give it any context. That’s not my place. I feel like if I do that… it doesn’t feel good to me.” With that as a reference, it’s no surprise that that same man would go on to make one of the most peculiar albums I’ve ever seen or heard.
The oddity of 3.15.20 begins before you even press play. First, you read the title and see that it’s a date, 3.15.20, which only kind of makes sense given that’s not even the day the album was officially released on streaming services. Then, you find that the album cover is simply an all-white box, essentially a non-cover. Okay cool. And then you see that the tracklist is largely, but not entirely, composed of ominous numbers, giving the impression of timestamps. All of these intangible elements work to embolden the musical tone of the project but they also cloak it in a shroud of mystery.
All of these mysterious elements inspire a series of questions: Why did Donald Glover, aka Childish Gambino, make these perplexing artistic choices? Why make the tracklist mostly numbers rather than give the songs traditional titles? Why name such a brilliant body of work after a seemingly arbitrary date? And why in the world wouldn’t he christen it with an actual image on the cover? And lastly, as far as the actual music goes, why would he litter the album with all kinds of strange, ambient transitions and risk making it sonically offputting to listeners?
My Theory, In Short
My theory, put most simply, is that Gambino/Glover’s intention was to make the album purposely confusing. He wants you to be perplexed and yearn for answers. The entire idea behind the project is, and perhaps always was (dating back to the three songs released in 2018), to be intentionally and almost aggressively vague and mysterious as a means of mimicking the mysterious nature of our universe. Ultimately, he wants us to be confused and mildly frustrated by the project in the same way we are prone to be confused and frustrated by the “meaning of life.”
With this as a foundational theory, I plan to break down the ways in which 3.15.20 is a grand allegory for the mysterious nature of our universe. I’ll do this by dissecting the song “Algorhythm” then use that as a setup to answer the aforementioned questions about the title, cover, tracklist, and all the strange transitions between songs. But first, I’ll expand on the ways in which the mysterious elements of 3.15.20 (that we as fans desperately want explained) parallel the grand mysteries of life.
What Happens When We Ask Too Many Questions
I’m sure you’ve heard the stereotype of a stoner getting high and subsequently musing about the “trippiness” of the world around him. You’ve also heard about people taking hallucinogens and marveling at the unfathomable beauty and interconnectedness of the universe. This album services those musings. It’s no coincidence that the song “12.38” is a loose narrative about Donald going on a mushroom trip with a girl.
A staple of these druggy stereotypes is the person who inevitably asks the big questions. “HOW did this all get here? WHY does life work the way that it does? HOW does my brain work? WHY is life so beautiful one minute, then cruel and unforgiving the next?” With or without drug-induced states, these are perhaps the biggest and most difficult questions for a human to ask.
The difficulty lies in the fact that they are unanswerable. Sure, there’s Stephen Hawking’s “theory of everything”, string theory, the Big Bang Theory, and many other noble efforts that have sought to answer how we all got here. But really, nobody knows. As science quests onward, these questions are why we have religions, Gods, and biblical stories about Creation. Most of us need these in order to feel a sense of peace, in order to sleep at night, in order to prevent us from pulling our hair out.
My supposition is that Gambino/Glover wanted to mimic that inherent unanswerable-ness. This album is his representation of the complexities, oddities, and frustrations of our three dimensional, time-enslaved reality. It may sound like a stretch, but the blank album cover, weird tracklist, and weirder inter-song transitions are designed to imitate this. Like with religious and/or scientific creationism, the more you begin to ask “why?” or “how?”, the more frustrated you’re going to get. At a certain point, you just have to sit back and appreciate the magnificent impossibility of it all.
These are the core ideas of 3.15.20, though they are perhaps most direct and potent in the song “Algorhythm.”
“Algorhythm” Tells Us What The Album Is About
In my estimation, the first verse and chorus of “Algorhythm” sum up the entire concept of the album. For me personally, this first rap verse is my favorite part of the entire album because he crams in so many layers of meaning. He outlines themes of human ignorance and our addiction to technology, then parallels that to the binary, scientific nature of our reality (what Glover has publicly referred to as ‘the algorithm’), while acknowledging that the algorithm by another name is what we know as God.
Right out the gate, Gambino compares life as we know it to a supercomputer. He opens with, “Supercomputer status, walking along streets” then swiftly undercuts this tech-imagery by asserting that “everyone is an addict, stumbling concrete.” After only two bars he’s framed how human beings have collectively become as powerful as a supercomputer while also signaling our treacherous subservience to technology. He claims the motivation for all our technology is to be in constant communication. However, he later raps, “Told it to call a friend, didn’t tell it to listen.” Here Gambino intimates the idea of the US government tracking us and listening in on our conversations, poetically describing the simultaneous benefit and threat of the phones we use every day.
In one slick line, “Made us the guinea pig and did it with no permission”, Gambino constructs two parallel ideas. First, that God/the algorithm made humans without our permission and made us the idiomatic guinea pigs of sentient life. Second, that the internet was invented and bequeathed upon humanity without the permission of essentially anyone and now these present human generations are faced with being the historical guinea pigs for what the internet will inevitably do to us as a species.
He also introduces the theme of light when he says, “I dream in color, not black and white”. This line is almost ironic, given the white album cover (more on that later). More importantly, he’s saying that he can see it all, the entire spectrum of reality, rather than a binary version drenched in only black and white. And with the binary implication of black and white we’re back to the technology theme. His onslaught of double or even triple entendres is designed to convey how all things, all avenues of life, are interconnected; they all come back to the algorithm, or to God, which are one in the same.
The final four lines of this verse blow my mind. He says, “Humans don’t understand, humans gon’ sell a lie / Humans gotta survive, we know we gon’ die / Nothing can live forever, you know we gon’ try.” At base level, this obviously states how humans cannot live forever and concedes our near-universal fear of death. But, looking deeper, he’s hinting at just how little humans actually understand about the great design of our universe. As a result, we “gon’ sell a lie” by explaining away these great mysteries with religion. Earlier in the verse he says how “we all wanna get chose like Moses”, signifying how humans all, on a certain level, aspire to be a god because, in becoming such, we would be able to control everything and ultimately understand the answers to all our unanswerable questions. This is potent stuff.
Save for the opening track “0.00”, which functions almost like a preamble, it’s amazing how directly Gambino/Glover states the themes of the album right out the gate. We’re one minute into the second track and he’s already told us that this thing is about technology, God, and how humans have no idea how we all got here. Then he hits us with the chorus.
The chorus, in short, goes, “Everybody move your body, now do it / Here is something that’s gonna make you move and groove. Algorhythm.” After detailing the various interconnected themes in verse one, he says how the sheer mystery of the algorithm is something to dance to. This is a powerful juxtaposition. The first verse is intense, heavy, and loaded with difficult ideas then the chorus rebounds into a fun, upbeat celebration. That juxtaposition sets up a duality that will pervade throughout the rest of the album.
My reading of this tonal juxtaposition is such: The cosmically and psychically curious human must be willing to plunge into his or her own depths, be brave enough to confront the big questions and search for meaning, yet simultaneously be humble enough to accept they cannot know or understand everything. Then, in those moments when you find yourself up against an unanswerable question, the best thing to do isn’t to yell and pout. The best thing to do is to marvel at the fact we’re here and able to ask questions in the first place. That is, to appreciate the algorithm. And, better yet, the best thing to do might just be to stop what you’re doing for a minute and DANCE.
Note how the title “Algorhythm” is a misspelling of the word algorithm. This is certainly intentional, given that Gambino makes the title include the word “rhythm”. With this subtle choice, he’s asserting that the grand design (the algorithm) of the universe has a rhythm to it. He’s saying there’s a rhythm to all things, almost like a pulse of the universe which keeps the whole thing moving, and we humans can only ever guess at what makes that rhythm work. So the best thing we can do is to shut up and groove to it.
That’s what 3.15.20 is to me. It’s an acknowledgment of our inability to understand the grand design of our universe and, subsequently, an offering from Gambino to “get down and boogie” to the universe’s wonderfully bewildering nature. It’s as if Donald Glover is saying, “Yeah, I don’t understand how all this works either, so let’s f***in’ dance.”
What’s Up With All The Crazy Transitions?
3.15.20 is full of danceable, pop and funk-infused tracks. However, it’s also littered with strange, ambient transitions between songs. Almost every track features a main section (the actual song) then abruptly drifts into some sort of pandemonious outro. These strange segues are likely to be most people’s major takeaway after an initial listen through the album. They’re largely uncomfortable and unpleasant to listen to. So why are they there?
All these transitions are meant to represent the dichotomy between the beauty and chaos of life. They serve a function similar to the juxtaposition I described between the first verse and chorus of “Algorhythm”. Most of the songs on 3.15.20 are rather upbeat, funky, and light in tone, despite being lyrically dense and philosophical. The soulful, danceable tracks are then aggressively juxtaposed with cacophonous outros. This discordance can be jarring and somewhat frustrating for the listener but it’s designed to illuminate how life is comprised of both beauty and chaos, that they exist together in harmony.
They Represent Nature and Technology
These strange transitions come in a variety of forms. Several feature sounds from nature while many are technology inspired. These, such as the outro of “12.38”, discretely add to the recurrent sonic motif of technology and the internet. Plus, they ever-so-slightly make the listener feel like they’re trapped inside a computer, or should I say, inside the algorithm.
The outro of “Time” fascinates me because it combines both technology and nature based sounds. We get a trippy blitz of tech-like screeches that again feel like you’re trapped inside a computer gone haywire, yet these are overlayed by the all too familiar sound of crickets or cicadas chirping. To me, this moment demonstrates how even the most mundane natural phenomena, like crickets, are governed by a mathematical, scientific design that Gambino calls the Algorhythm.
The Freakier Transitions and “32.22”
While these previous examples are odd and befuddling, other transitions are downright unnerving. The outro of “24.19” (which is probably the most direct love song on the album) features a disorienting drum pattern and a somewhat terrifying skit (for lack of a better term) in which a man seems to be panting. To me, the man is trying to catch his breath, maybe even gasping for it in an attempt to stay alive. It’s uncomfortable to listen to but it reminds me how, when life gets tough, we can sometimes feel like we’re gasping for breath, trying to “keep our head above water.”
My speculation is that this moment is meant to illustrate the plight of disadvantaged people in America, those who are fighting discrimination and poverty, who are simply trying to catch their breath and stay alive. If that sounds like a stretch, I urge you to rewatch the final moments of the “This Is America” video where Gambino is running, with a look of pure terror on his face, from a band of white police officers.
This outro then bleeds into the track “32.22” which is perhaps the strangest song on 3.15.20. Most of the lyrics of “32.22” are masked in so many vocals effects that it’s almost indecipherable. There are lyrics, of course, which you can read here. The way we struggle to understand the lyrics mimics the way we might stumble around in the dark of night, led only by firelight. (This idea is reinforced by “fire” and “firelight” being some of the most recurrent lyrics in the song) “32.22” throws us into a scene of primal darkness and berates us with primal buzz words such as fire, light, bones, war, and mama. These are some of the most fundamental words and concepts of life and their prominence on such a bleak and aggressive song strikes me as an anthem for the dark, primitive underbelly of life.
After plunging our ears into total mayhem, “32.22” features one of my favorite outros on the album. The chaotic, pulsing song transitions into a mundane and seemingly random naturescape complete with the sound of chickens clucking and cows mooing. I love this transition because it has the exact opposite effect of the outro on “24.19”. It takes a disorienting and aggressive song and juxtaposes it with a tranquil and soothing nature-based outro. It’s as if Gambino is presenting the chaos and horrors of life then butting that up against a peaceful scene of life on a farm.
Moments such as this reinforce how beauty and chaos coexist. They live together in a twisted harmony. By putting chaotic outros at the end of otherwise beautiful songs (and vice versa) Gambino is showing that there cannot be one without the other. Where there is light, there is darkness. Where there is good, there is evil. The songs are structured to mimic that fact.
What Does The Title 3.15.20 Signify?
The title 3.15.20 was initially maddening to me because it references the date upon which the website, donaldgloverpresents.com, went live as opposed to the date the album was actually released. When the site launched, it featured the album playing on loop, though the loop was stripped only a few hours later. It was replaced by a cartoon strip style piece of art that was online for a few days before that too disappeared and a countdown appeared, evidently counting down to the official release of the project.
The countdown held true and the album was released at midnight on March 22nd. However, the title commemorates not that day but rather the day the website and short-lived loop went up. This nod to the internet-loop-release strikes me as a commentary on the impact and importance of the internet, the place where the album will live. The place where we all seem to live nowadays. The whole thing ties into themes about technology, the internet, and our cultural subservience to it.
Why Are The Track Titles Numbers?
The track titles, save for “Algorhythm” and “Time”, are all in the form of numbers. At first glance, I thought they might indicate dates, which would fall in line with the album title being a date. That initial thought didn’t make sense though, given that most of the numbers would correlate to dates that are impossible. Upon closer inspection, the track titles refer to the time at which they appear on the album. So, for example, “12.38” appears precisely 12 minutes and 38 seconds into the album.
This tracklist structure, while odd and comically difficult to memorize, is elegant in its thematic motivation. Again, one of the only tracks not given a number is “Time”. In doing so, he makes it blatantly clear that the concept of time is at the forefront of the project. We find that the tracklist becomes a slave to linear time in the same way that humans are. We’re unable to exist outside of time, it literally dominates every aspect of our existence. Time is how we record and track our collective movement through history, so, in Gambino’s universe, it makes sense that timestamps would define the movement through the project.
A Bonus Theory
It’s still possible that Gambino saw the opportunity to weave a subtle ambiguity here. If you’ll indulge me for a moment, there is one track in particular that initially made me believe the titles were meant to be dates. The first track is notably titled “0.00”, representing the start of the album’s runtime. The song is s a cryptic and ethereal, albeit beautiful and evocative, introduction to Gambino’s world. The only discernible lyric goes, “We are, we are, we are”. I posit that “0.00” functions with a dual meaning. It’s not only the onset of the runtime, but it may also reference the dawn of creation, the very start of all things. Think Big Bang. And this ominous repeated lyric would serve as the cry of a newborn universe screaming out, “we are, we are, we are… here now.”
Granted, that one is uber theoretical, but if Glover did think through that duality, then all I can say is, “Wow.” That’s a slick way to open an album meant to be about the beauty and chaos of existence.
Why Are “Algorhythm” and “Time” Not Numbers?
I was initially confused by the numbered tracklist. However, I was far more perplexed by the fact that only two of the tracks were not in the numbered formats and instead rendered as traditional titles. After some thought, I believe these two tracks were given word-based titles because, plain and simply, they are the two central topics that the album as a whole is marveling at and paying respect to. We as listeners might be confused by the album, but the album itself is confused by two things: time and the algorithm of life.
I’ll pretty much leave it at that. The previous section covers the significance of time as a theme and I already talked ad nauseum about the significance of “Algorhythm”. I do find it striking how the initially perplexing and peculiar choice to give word-based names to only two tracks turns out to be a subtle hint from Gambino, a little nod at the two primary subjects of the album.
What’s The Deal With The Album Cover?
As for the all-white album cover: I was, at first, quite frustrated by this album art. As a fan, I felt it was a missed opportunity to offer a potentially iconic image, one indelibly linked to the music, for posterity. I was also incredibly confused about why Glover would go ahead and release the project with this seeming “non-art” cover after displaying a cartoon strip style image on the website, whereupon it clearly stated “cover” above the first panel. Was that a purposeful misdirect? A little fake out? Or might Gambino/Glover not have decided upon the cover until that final week before the album’s release? We’ll probably never know. But, after much thought, I’ve grown to appreciate the all-white cover.
My speculation is that the all-white cover is meant to represent the concept of “Everything”. (The algorithm of the universe constitutes the design of literally Everything in existence) In color theory and the science of light waves, it’s a basic concept that black is the absence of all color while white is the presence of all colors. Therefore, the all-white album cover, in fact, contains all colors. It’s a reflection and representation of all things, the entire spectrum of visible light.
Furthermore, to have attributed any single image to the cover would have been to reduce its essence. It would have suggested, “Hey, this is what the album is about.” And we’ve already covered how Gambino hints the album is principally about time and the algorithm of life, i.e. it’s about Everything. Even with a rather vague and provocative image such as the cartoon panel, it inevitably would have generated a certain connotation. The cartoon-panel image personally reminded me of the now-iconic album cover for Kendrick Lamar’s To Pimp A Butterfly which features a crowd of African Americans partying on the front lawn of the White House. That was the perfect image for that record. It encapsulates the frustrations of African Americans while juxtaposing them with a scene of celebration.
The sketch-like image from the Donald Glover Presents website is certainly different than Kendrick’s cover. It does bear similarities though. It’s chaotic, frenzied, and representative of a state of panic in America. On a certain level, that would have been absolutely perfect for 3.15.20. Especially given the timing of its release while the country is collectively freaking out about the coronavirus pandemic.
However, it would have left many aspects of the project unattended to. Most notably, love, family, and the beauty of life. If Donald had indeed used the comic panel for the cover, it would have impressed that the album is chiefly about turmoil and panic. This would have been okay because, at times, the record is extremely chaotic. But it isn’t only about chaos. It’s about the beauty behind the chaos and what we can do to find solace in that paradoxical coexistence. It’s about appreciating the little moments and, as I’ll discuss in my final section, it’s about accepting life’s difficult questions by finding love and cherishing one’s family.
3.15.20 Is (Very Much) About Love and Family
So far, I’ve given my theories on the various mysterious elements of Childish Gambino’s 3.15.20. I’ve outlined its ambitious themes about humanity, technology, nature, and the algorithm of life. I’ve covered how Gambino uses 3.15.20 to identify life’s most terrifying and existential questions then proceeds to offer his personal views on how to embrace and cope with them. Solution number one, given to us on “Algorhythm”, is to accept that which we cannot know and to dance to it. However, much of the album identifies love and family as the true antidotes to life’s darkest problems and mysteries.
Let’s Talk About Love
Certain moments throughout 3.15.20 work very much like a love letter. “24.19” is probably the most direct example of this but the idea is also prominent in tracks like “12.38” and “Time”. The latter features Ariana Grande who essentially plays the role of a love interest. She sings, “When you’re around / Breath of fresh air like a cold winter breeze / And I can feel it slow down, oh.” Later, Gambino sings, “But one thing’s for sure, baby / We’re running out of time.” Between these two lines, “Time” says how to feel love can magically make time slow down, yet there is no escaping the fact that every love affair is destined to end eventually, for one reason or another. In that way, love is precious and delicate, much like life itself.
Perhaps, on a certain level, Gambino is singing love songs to God, or to the universe itself, thanking it for the life he has been able to live and for filling it with love and prosperity. But I think these instances are mostly grounded in Glover’s real life, serving as a love letter to his partner of nearly five years and the mother of his children, Michelle White.
The opening lyric of “24.19” is simply, “Sweet thing”. This sets up the song as if Gambino is speaking directly to his loved one. Throughout the song, he offers fleeting memories such as, “you took me to the fair” or “you made me chicken, rice and beans”. These intimate, almost mundane snapshots are in stark contrast to many of the overtly grandiose themes of the album. He offers these very grounded, domestic memories throughout “24.19”, acknowledging that to feel love is to appreciate the little moments.
Throughout the track, Gambino is wrestling with himself, almost in disbelief that he has finally, actually found true love. It’s as if he had built up a hard exterior. He’s taught himself to resist love after searching for it in the past and repeatedly being left hurt and disappointed. Past attempts to find love led him to turn inward; he built a shell and learned to love himself (re: “47.48”) rather than look for love in someone else. By finally finding love, he’s been forced to let his guard down for the first time in years. He sings, “Feels like I’m cheating on myself / But it feels so good.” The song outlines how it can be downright frightening to drop your guard and let someone else in, but when you finally do, it can feel so good.
Despite displaying sheer gratitude for his love, he also pokes at the difficulties of a loving relationship. Lyrics like, “I always make you cry” and “If you wanna be happy, don’t look at my phone” showcase how love isn’t always easy. Much like life itself, love can test you, frustrate you, and make you wonder if it’s all worth it. But the rest of the song finds Gambino thanking his lover for loving him. He acknowledges the little day-to-day strifes that come with a loving relationship and then tells us how thankful he is for that love anyway. He shows us that, when it’s with the right person, it’s all worth it.
The Loss of His Father
Donald Glover’s father, Donald Glover Sr., passed away in 2018. The only direct mention of his father comes on the album’s final track, “53.49”. Gambino raps, “See the colors of my father when I meditate.” For me, this line brings full circle the line “I dream in color, not black and white” from “Algorhythm”. Earlier I said how that line meant that Gambino sees the full spectrum of color, or of life, meaning he understands it all. Fast forward to “53.49” and he reflects on seeing the “color” of his father who is now on the other side and, in theory, having crossed over into death, can now see it all.
The death of his father occurred while Donald was in production on the 2019 live-action remake of The Lion King. Glover offered his voice for the lead role of Simba. With this in mind, it may be inferred that this lyric about his father is also a subtle reference to the plot of The Lion King. That story centers around Simba’s emotional journey after the loss of his father, Mufasa. At one point, Simba looks up into the stars and has a vision of his father looking down upon him. (Watch the scene here.) It’s as if he is seeing “the color of his father”. And, as Rafiki tells Simba, “You see, he lives in you.” Donald has had to let go of his father but in doing so, sees that his spirit will always be there inside of him.
It seems that Donald, after losing his own father, in meta-fashion, was forced to live out the plot of The Lion King. He became lost, then looked inward and conversated with his late father while meditating, and in turn took up the mantle of father for a new generation. Though the references are scattered and subtle, it’s clear that the concepts of fatherly guidance and passing the torch to a younger generation are central to 3.15.20.
The Album As A Conversation With His Sons
On the song “35.31” Gambino joyously belts, “Little Foot, Big Foot, get out the way!” Here, Glover assumes the role of “Big Foot” while one or both of his sons represent “Little Foot”. This is one of the most adorable lines on the album. It’s as if he, as a proud father, is shouting to the world, “Watch out! Daddy and his kiddo are coming through!” This song demonstrates how the concept of family is at the center of both the album and Donald Glover’s life. And, as a proud father, Donald now seeks to impart his wisdom upon his two children.
Words of parental wisdom abound throughout the entire album. They’re there in almost every song. Some of my favorite instances appear on “19.10”, though. The entire first verse strikes me as Donald speaking directly to, and educating, his sons. He says, “Someday soon you just might find / the truth about the world’s design”. Alternatively, this opening verse can be heard as a memory Donald has of his own father saying this to him as a child. In either case, Donald is now taking the baton and passing on the wisdom.
In the chorus Gambino sings, “to be beautiful is to be hunted.” That’s an inherently ironic idea. To be beautiful is a keenly desirable trait in our culture. Yet he posits it as being dangerous, almost unfavorable, due to the way society is poised to exploit your beauty. He affirms this contradictory concept by saying, “Now remember, you do what the hell you want / but someone’s gonna steal your funk.” He uses this song to teach his children how wonderful and full of opportunity life can be. He tells them they can do anything they want, but also forewarns that there will always be threats and fears there to balance out the beauty. He wants his children to know, at an early age, that “Everything is give and take.”
There lies an interesting ambiguity here. From one perspective, these are instances of Donald directly instilling wisdom upon his actual children. From another, these bits of advice may be thought of as a God-like figure instilling wisdom upon all of humanity. I believe Gambino/Glover crafted an intentional double meaning here. He, as a mortal man, is a father to his sons. Meanwhile, God represents the Father of all mankind. In both instances, the overriding lesson he imparts is the same, that discussed in the section about “Algorhythm”; the universe can be maddeningly perplexing so the best thing for you to do is enjoy the ride and focus upon loving yourself and your family.
Finally, It’s About Loving and Accepting Yourself
The penultimate track of 3.15.20, “47.48”, notably ends with a conversation between Glover and his son Legend. Donald asks, “Who do you love?” His son rattles off a list that ends with a proclamation that he loves himself. Bemused, Donald replies, “that’s a good answer.” To me, this is the quintessential lesson he wishes to impart upon his children and, in turn, upon us all.
Gambino spends the album outlining the ruthlessly confounding mysteries of life, the difficulties of living in a flawed society, and the looming threat of time which will inevitably lead us all to our graves, but, at the end of the day, we as humans can combat the anxiety our existential fears might produce by simply looking inward and learning to love ourselves. Donald has offered many deep truths throughout 3.15.20 but it is this idea, to love and accept yourself in spite of life’s most terrifying violence, hardships, and mysteries, that he most preciously wishes to leave us with.
Conclusion
Donald Glover has evolved immensely, both as a musician and as a man, since his first album Camp released in 2011. Where Camp was told from the point of view of an aggressive and heartbroken young man, 3.15.20 is from that of a worldly, experienced man who now knows the power of love. 2013’s Because The Internet largely touched upon the same existential questions as 3.15.20 but with a far more earnest, nihilistic approach. This newest album is Glover at his most existential while displaying new levels of maturity; rather than complain about life and all its turmoils, he seeks to celebrate life’s grand design and offer impressions of its greatest solace: love.
It was a long wait for all us Gambino fans after Awaken, My Love! but I for one find the wait to have been tremendously worthwhile. 3.15.20 is a magnificently complex masterpiece by one of our greatest living artists. It’s a multi-layered, deeply conceptual puzzle box that touches on the biggest and most difficult questions that humans can ask. It might be weird and mysterious in certain respects but I feel, in time, those elements will only embolden the project’s significance. Its various meanings and interpretations beg for relistens and reevaluation in the years to come. I can’t help but see a poetic irony in the fact that, despite the title rooting itself to one particular day in history, I expect 3.15.20 will grow more and more resonant the further we get from that day.
Postscripts
The ideas and theories in this essay are my own and they’re entirely made up. I don’t know Donald Glover and I’m not pretending that I completely understand his artistic vision. I simply love his work, admire 3.15.20 and its ambition, and have offered my personal theories about its meaning in hope that they might help others to appreciate it on a deeper level.
This is by far Handwritten Kin’s longest article to date. If you made it to the end and you’re reading this, I offer my sincerest thanks. Let me know on Twitter or Instagram if you would enjoy more album dissections like this in the future.