Kendrick Lamar, calling himself Pulitzer Kenny, delivered short, triumphant Dallas concert

Although it's not even been a full year since hip-hop's current ruler last strolled through Dallas, Kendrick Lamar's Thursday night concert at the Dos Equis Pavilion in Fair Park offered a new incarnation of the Grammy-winning rapper.

Pulitzer Kenny.

Gone was the "Kung Fu Kenny" alter ego the Compton, Calif., native had become synonymous with -- the persona featured prominently during his 2017 tour via short video clips showing Lamar as a young martial arts wanderer working to become a master. With the April announcement that Lamar's latest LP DAMN. had become the first album that wasn't a classical or jazz record to be granted the prestigious Pulitzer Prize for music, Lamar became an even brighter star than before.

As his set began at 9:45 p.m., Lamar stalked the risen platform above the stage and belted out "DNA.," from the prize-winning record. The massive video backdrop during that opening number projected the most simple but powerful visual of the night: an all-white screen and black letters spelling out "Pulitzer Kenny," who is far more firmly rooted in real life than Lamar's previous alter ego was.

Indeed, the past few months have seen Lamar ascend from already lofty heights -- an arena-filling, platinum-selling artist on top of his game -- into an airy realm with select few, international pop-culture phenoms.

Disappointingly, Lamar's set lasted only an hour, but to his credit, he made it a hit-packed, rapid fire hour where the buck certainly got its bang.

Wasting no time in rolling out more freshly significant resume bullet points, Lamar spit out "Big Shot," one of the standout tracks from the Black Panther: The Album movie soundtrack he helped produce. In an era where movie soundtracks don't seem to pack the cultural punch they once did, it's of little surprise this collection, featuring many of his tour mates from the Top Dawg Entertainment family, has been almost as powerful of a critical and commercial smash as its accompanying film.

When listening to any of Lamar's records with headphones on, it's nearly impossible not to be drawn in by the vivid, visceral heft of his lyrics, stories and imagery. But in concert, especially in a cavernous amphitheater with often-questionable sound quality, the beats and arrangements provided by Lamar's energetic, on-point live band rushed to the forefront.

Not unlike Bob Dylan, the iconic folk songwriter who famously became the first musician to win the Nobel Prize for literature in 2016, Lamar weaves tales filled with the dramatic ebbs and flows of everyday emotions. Perhaps the most prominent theme connecting many of Lamar's songs together is the spiritual wrestling match between the hope of faith and the flames of fear.

But in this setting, with many thousands of sweaty dancers and enthusiastic admirers in Dallas jumping around and shouting along, the weightier subject matter was destined for a spot in the backseat. Lamar still offered up socially-significant anthems such as "Alright," though the starkest lines of the song ("And we hate popo, wanna kill us dead in the street for sure") were drowned out by his hyper-rapid delivery and the party-ready positivity of the sing-along chorus.

And unlike last year's tour where Kung Fu Kenny commanded a solitary stage for the entire show, Pulitzer Kenny opened up his stage to those who had played earlier in the night. Jay Rock was a fitting guest for "Money Trees," the song he's featured on from Lamar's breakthrough 2012 album Good Kid, M.A.A.D City. And bringing out his most promising Top Dawg artist, neo-soul songstress SZA, for their recent Top 10 hit from the Black Panther soundtrack "All the Stars" proved to be a resplendent way to remind the crowd of how far he's come since we saw him last.

With an extended version of "HUMBLE.," his biggest-ever pop hit, Lamar brought the short show to a close. Regardless of how long the lesson was, the point had been made with abundant authority: Kenny the promising student has become a historically significant teacher for the ages.