Kendrick Lamar, Drake, The Matrix, and The Comfort of Representation
I was one of the 130 million people that tuned into the Super Bowl to not only watch a football game, but for the spectacle of the halftime show. As a massive hip-hop fan and someone who has closely followed the rap beef between Kendrick Lamar and Drake, I knew this was the coup de grâce — the public execution of Drake as king of hip-hop and the simultaneous coronation of Kendrick Lamar as a worthy successor with a celebration of his performance prowess and catalog to boot.
But that’s not exactly what we got.
The performance was surprisingly hyper-focused on his most recent album release from about 2 months ago, GNX, and refused to lean into the expectations of hit records from his GKMC, TPAB, and DAMN albums. In fact, as Samuel L. Jackson pranced the field as the first Black “Uncle Sam”, interjecting to narrate brief monologues between Kendrick’s medley of songs, this felt less like the spectacle of a glitzed-up concert, and more like an opus on Black people’s plight in America; with the Playstation controller buttons appearing on the set to remind us how we are forced to engage in this capitalistic game, the American flag constructed with Black bodies in motion divided by the colors they wore, the movement in the prison yard and the “WARNING WRONG WAY” signage, and more. The message drove the show forward with a few moments carefully curated with a dash of pettiness to dance on Drake’s grave before the finale of “Not Like Us”. Kendrick is an amazingly fit performer, breezing through each choreographed set with immaculate vocal control and controlled energy.
I marveled at the symbolism, but didn’t particularly enjoy the show as a musical performance. When I logged onto social media, I quickly saw, this was not allowed. Beyond the reactions and critiques by racist and bigoted white Americans who “didn’t get it” or were frustrated that the show was “too Black”, I found myself reading statements that if you didn’t think this was an amazing halftime show, you “just don’t get it”. According to many, this was what Black people needed — the revolution was being televised.
But was it?
Is Kendrick Lamar making protest music to set off the masses and trigger a movement? Was defeating Drake the catalyst to something bigger?
To answer that I lean on one of my favorite trilogies of all time: The Matrix.
In The Matrix series, the machines use the matrix as a system to control the masses while giving them the illusion of choice and freedom. We follow Keanu Reaves character, Neo, as he “wakes up” and chooses to rebel against the system. His persistent foe is Agent Smith, who is charged with ensuring people stay locked into the illusion of the matrix.
So what does any of this have to do with Kendrick, Drake, or music?
The matrix is representative of the music industry (and the broader capitalist system at large) that controls society while maintaining the illusion of choice and freedom. Kendrick is Neo — he’s an inspirational figure that the “woke” prop up who provides the illusion of revolution, but who upon closer inspection, ultimately reinforces the system’s survival — working with the system’s distribution, accumulating accolades and wealth sponsored by the system. He provides the illusion of freedom and artistic integrity as well as an awakening within the system, but doesn’t really dismantle it.
In a similar way Drake is like Agent Smith — he’s been the biggest proponent of the pop-rap formula, basically influencing a generation of artists to follow a specific blueprint and playing into the illusion of the matrix — the money, the fame, the women. Over time in the Matrix, Agent Smith becomes a virus that’s too powerful — infecting all areas of the system and threatening to overtake it. Some might argue the same with Drake — his influence through brand partnerships, his playlist control, streaming dominance, and more, started bending the entire industry to his will with the culmination in Universal Music Group trying to steer him away from ownership, equity, and a $600M asking price for his deal renewal.
The matrix requires both a Neo and an Agent Smith to sustain itself. Just as the music industry and the capitalist system at large require both Kendrick and Drake. If commercial success (Drake) dominates unchecked, the system becomes stale, predictable, and loses it’s depth. But if artistic rebellion (Kendrick) goes too far, the system risks instability or rejection by the mainstream audience. Just like in The Matrix movies, when one force/program becomes too powerful, the other must rise to challenge it, keeping the system alive but never truly breaking it. When Kendrick received his Grammys and the camera panned to Dr. Dre and Lucian Grainge high-fiving, it was a picture of the gatekeepers — Dr. Dre like The Oracle in The Matrix with a prescient understanding of rappers and the grit and drive necessary to succeed. Lucian Grainge, like The Architect, ensures the system can thrive with the necessary tension between commercial success and artistic freedom. Most recently, it was Kendrick and Drake, but before them, it was Kanye and 50 Cent, Nas and Jay-Z, and some might even say Pac and Biggie. In all cases, these individuals are more similar than they (and we) often think — they’re multimillion dollar brands meant to serve a purpose (like programs) within the system.
True liberation exists outside the matrix. In the music, it’s speaking more explicitly and less in symbolic gestures. It’s explicitly educating on the disparities and injustices either in the music or one’s platform like Yasiin Bey (formerly Mos Def) and Talib Kweli do in “Gun Play” when they say:
“Israeli’s got tanks, Palestinians got rocks”
It’s empowering grassroots organizers and encouraging political education like Noname and her book club, and it’s facilitating direct action toward liberation like KRS1.
But back to halftime of the Super Bowl.
The overwhelming sentiment in Black social media spaces seems to be that if you didn’t enjoy the Super Bowl halftime show, you don’t get it, followed by the flex of intellectual elitism in pointing out the 20 symbols woven into the performance imagery. But maybe, just maybe some of us do get it. We appreciate the art and the conversation evoked by the imagery, but also feel as though mainstream-conscious artists like Kendrick can be elevated to the status they are because they negotiate with the music industry and the capitalist world at large rather than fully rejecting it. This creates the strange bedfellows of gangsters, drug dealers, misogynists, women-abusers, billionaires under the umbrella of “the culture” while peddling faux-revolutionary tropes appropriated from people who actually did/do the work of marching, researching, advocating, shaping policy, or guiding action with little-to-no fanfare.
So yeah, the televised revolution, on the stage provided by the same entity that blackballed Colin Kaepernick, with Donald Trump in the stands, curated by a billionaire rap mogul in Jay-Z who once bragged of wanting to gentrify his own communities — it didn’t grab me in any magnanimous, altruistic way aside from reminding me how incredibly talented Kendrick Lamar is, and how much I wished he performed the songs I felt might shine an even brighter light on that talent for those unfamiliar. There is a comfort though in representation; it makes us feel seen, acknowledged, and important. Kendrick rapping and putting on a “Black” performance for a majority White audience could feel like a victory. A representation that Black people and hip-hop as a whole deserves to be seen authentically, during Black history — no conforming for the majority demographic. Not just on a stage to shuck and jive, but to tell our stories. Unapologetically, here we are.
And the greatest art is the art that gets us talking and discussing — debating and trying to interpret it. And this is what makes Kendrick such a great artist and the halftime show great art. I love and appreciate it. But was it great music? I’m not sure.
But maybe none of that matters.
Maybe acknowledging that the Super Bowl halftime show is just that — an entertainment event in the midst of a multibillion dollar organization’s biggest product showcase — maybe that is proof of who in the audience is unplugged from the matrix, and not succumbing to the illusion.
