Kendrick Lamar had a loaded agenda for his 13-minute-long halftime performance at Super Bowl LIX.
On Sunday, Feb. 9, many Smithies watched the Super Bowl crowded into house living rooms, dining halls and around laptop screens, awaiting the much-anticipated game, including star-studded commercial breaks and the halftime show, featuring Pulitzer Prize-winning artist Kendrick Lamar in an epic final twist of the knife in his feud with Canadian rapper, Drake and a characteristically empty gesture to political intrigue, elements which oil the machine that markets imperial strongholds as entertainment.
The halftime show — at least for the less football-inclined Smithies — was perhaps the main attraction of Super Bowl LIX. While the combination of Lamar and SZA on stage was sure to arouse high expectations, it was a surprise to see the rapper introduced by an Uncle Sam portrayed by Samuel L. Jackson, shouting “Salutations!” to an estimated audience of 133.5 million viewers, according to the Bleacher Report.
At Smith, the dining halls featured special Chiefs and Eagles-themed meals, including Philly cheesesteaks and other quintessential Super Bowl delicacies. Despite the snowstorm that graced Northampton that Sunday, Smithies made the effort to remain festive for the game — and for Lamar.
In the wake of the recent Presidential Inauguration, which has come with an influx of Executive Orders targeting Diversity, Equity and Inclusion (DEI) programs across the nation, among other changes, an event such as the Super Bowl was sure to bring Americans across the political spectrum into proximity with one another. The centerpiece of this socio-political clash? Lamar.
Sat atop a Buick GNX — the namesake for his 2024 album — wearing bootcut jeans, Lamar’s set included recent hits like “Squabble Up” and “GNX” along with older features “DNA” and “All the Stars,” a moment SZA took the stage for, slowing down the performance to match her familiarly melodic vocals before ending strong with a teased crowd favorite “Not Like Us.”
The performance was rife with symbolism, from Jackson playing an exaggerated version of Uncle Sam to subverting the stars and stripes as a group of Black backup dancers moves in an American flag formation on a PlayStation-themed stage, beginning with an implied call to President Trump, “The revolution ‘bout to be televised. You picked the right time, but the wrong guy,” a bastardization of Gil Scott Heron’s song “The Revolution Will Not Be Televised,” envisioning both that the revolution begins on an internal level and also that the media (the Super Bowl perhaps) as it exists will not document or reproduce genuine material change.
He beautifully portrayed the irony of the entire enterprise, wherein his subtle implications satisfy an audience looking for easy-to-read activism within the threshold allowed by the NFL. Lamar commercialized politics, but the minute someone displayed a real political statement, without any larger capitalistic purpose, it was shut down.
Performer Zül-Qarnaįn raised the Sudanese and Palestinian flags atop the Buick before being detained and released without charge. In a conversation with Al Jazeera, he explained that his statement fits into the political undertones of the performance overall, but as a viewer, this moment of visibility is incalculably more revolutionary than any of the featured symbolism. He signaled to the reality that the foundations of the Super Bowl rest on the shoulders of people complicit in and enabling a genocide and that the issues laid out by Lamar himself from police brutality to materialism will not be solved through the conventional avenues. While Lamar’s performance certainly succeeded in making a statement, its ability to enact genuine social change remains unfulfilled.
Symbolically interesting and artistically sound, in the performance, Lamar did what he does best, which is to eviscerate his enemies and solidify a personal win for the West Coast and for Compton. This is not to say there is nothing to be gained from his discography — a collection that has fundamentally changed the industry and forced a level of excellence upon his peers. But the political punch beneath his words will always be undermined by the larger game in which he plays.
Gil Scott Heron said it best and succinctly, “The revolution will be no re-run, brothers / The revolution will be live.”
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