Super Bowl Sunday was a great day for the Eagles and their fans.
But there was this other thing on Super Bowl Sunday that was almost as big: the halftime show. And like it or not, there is no denying that as artistic expression it was a work of great art.
Allow me to explain…
Within seconds of the start of Kendrick Lamar’s performance, social media ignited.
“I can’t understand what this guy is saying.”
“They should have subtitles for this.”
“Where is all the ‘diversity’ in the show?”
And there was also a countervailing explosion of positive posts.
Admittedly, Kendrick Lamar’s style is a little different than the rap guys my generation listened to. “Rapper’s Delight” in 1979 was perhaps the first taste of rap for white America. The genre grew more mainstream with people like Run DMC and exploded with the Beastie Boys’ “License to Ill” album.
Some of the same complaints lobbed at Kendrick Lamar mirrored the critiques of rap’s earliest days.
For our group of teammates and friends the mid-to-late 1980s meant Run DMC, the Beastie Boys, Eric B and Rakim, Public Enemy, Whodini and KRS-One. It also meant what were probably the original diss tracks/rap battles; among them Kool Moe Dee and LL Cool J. That genre was dominated by guys from NYC.
We found this music on BET’s” Video Soul” show (shoutout to Donnie Simpson), later joined by “Yo! MTV Raps”(much love to Ed Lover).
The genre grew from mainstream acceptance to pop culture dominance with Tupac, Biggie, Snoop Dogg, Ice-T. NWA’s “Straight Outta Compton” was everywhere and that group launched Ice Cube, Eazy-E and Dr. Dre among others. I still know almost all the words to Ice Cube’s 1991 “Death Certificate” album, my favorite line being “I’d rather be judged by 12 than carried by 6.”
As an old guy, my exposure to Kendrick Lamar has come from my kids. The track “ Not Like Us” and the line “It’s probably A minor” reminded me of Kool Moe Dee’s “How Ya Like Me Now” diss track about LL Cool J.
Kool Moe Dee rapped: “I’ll take my whip and make him call himself Toby.” A clever cultural reference to a landmark moment in the miniseries “Roots”.
This genre has always faced criticism. It is no surprise that some complained about the Super Bowl Halftime show.
But the show met the definition of great art musically, visually and choreographically.
Great art doesn’t mean we all like it. Great art takes risks. It creates controversy. It makes us think. It leaves itself open to be seen and interpreted in different ways. Think of the mystery just in the simple smile of the painting of Mona Lisa.
Many saw the Black men moving to form an American flag as symbolic of the foundation of a nation heavily weighted in an economy of slavery. The raised fists on a world sporting stage called to mind the 1968 Olympics.
That interpretation may or may not have been the artist’s intent.
Some took offense that the show was an all-Black production. Some were angry at Samuel L. Jackson’s portrayal of Uncle Sam. At the same time, the show was cheered by people for some of the very same reasons that were grievances for critics.
Other critics just don’t like that genre of music, and they were hoping for something they liked. That’s no different than people who don’t like country music. Many people think Picasso’s paintings are strange or fail to see the artistic value of Andy Warhol.
But like all great art, the halftime show sparked a response that made everyone pay attention.
The rap beats and lyrics meshing with the singing of Sza were front and center. But it was also visually stunning. The appearance of Serena Williams recreating a controversial dance that she did at Wimbledon in 2012 was another aspect adding intrigue.
All of it had a deeper meaning for the artist. You don’t get to be where Kendrick Lamar is without careful consideration of each lyric, each beat and each choreographed move by everyone on the stage. And as a writer I’ve always been jealous of artists who can marry lyrics with music, particularly for rappers who do so in a very defined cadence of time and rhyme.
So, like it or not, you cannot deny that it made you react, made you think and left all of us with different interpretations of the art. It challenged all rational people to think.
That is the legacy of music in this country that challenged us across genres; from Bob Dylan’s “The Times They Are a-Changin” to Joan Baez, to Creedence Clearwater Revival’s “Fortunate Son”, to Marvin Gaye’s “What’s Going On” to Crosby, Stills, Nash and Young singing “Ohio” to Public Enemy, Tracy Chapman to Rage Against the Machine and so many more.
So much of what we’re fed now is designed to tamp down critical thinking and create conformity of thought. The forces of mainstream and social media corral us into group think designed to package and market products, services and even our politics.
Kendrick Lamar did us all a favor Sunday. He made us think. He made us uncomfortable. He sparked our minds and our emotions.
That’s important, because free expression is under threat. Artistic expression that challenges us and speaks to power is more important than it has been since Vietnam.
If we allow the shackles of conformity of thought to rise, then, like the closing message in the crowd of Kendrick Lamar’s show, it will be “Game Over.”
One last note: While the show was great art, you still won’t see me wearing Kendrick Lamar’s flare cut blue jeans.
