Kendrick Lamar’s Superbowl LIX performance captured politics’ entrenchment in the United States today. He argues that everything is a product of the American game and that those in power could end the match at any moment — and he is right.
Lamar’s act came at a perfect time; from President Donald Trump’s attendance at the game to Ye’s ad sending shoppers to his website featuring only a shirt bearing a swastika, the game was blatantly political.
Lamar’s message was loud and clear on Super Bowl Sunday, and it has only become more relevant with age.
To understand the significance of Lamar’s performance, one must know that he is also one of the greatest social commentators in the 21st century. Lamar’s genius stems from his unique ability to encapsulate endemic trends, with much of his work commenting on patterns he saw growing up in poverty in Compton, Calif.
When Samuel L. Jackson opened the halftime show dressed as Uncle Sam and introduced the audience to “the great American game,” he defined Lamar’s music in the context of American society. The rest of the performance unfolded through this lens, as Lamar sang critical hits including “squabble up”, “HUMBLE” and lesser-known masterpieces like “man at the garden.” In the middle of the act, Jackson questioned if Lamar had what it took to play the American game, and Lamar played his most radio-friendly tracks, demonstrating that though he understands the game, he is not in control of his own life.
Lamar represents the typical, disempowered American. While he may be successful now, he is not exempt from the pressure of societal expectations he often comments on in his work. If America asks him to jump, he asks “how high?” even if it comes at a cost to his art.
In the same vein of indulging American expectations, that Sunday, millions watched the two best football teams that season play each other. People eagerly anticipated clutch plays, wild fans and memorable advertisements, which is to say, they understood the greater game of the event. However, viewers also inadvertently engaged in ideological battles.
Trump is the first sitting president to attend the Super Bowl, and his appearance at the game, while not inherently malicious, did make a statement. Trump harps on nationalism, and the Super Bowl is the ultimate showcase of the United States. Nothing is as stereotypically American as audiences crowding around salty food and watching in amazement as companies spend millions of dollars to acquire seconds of ad time during a three-hour-long, violent game. Though not overtly political, the game is truly a microcosm of American politics.
Since the Philadelphia Eagles declined Trump’s invitation to the White House in 2018, liberals have praised the team as the anti-Trump franchise, contrasting their opponent, the Kansas City Chiefs, who applauded Trump’s appearance at the game. Even the leaders of the teams, the quarterbacks, made their political priorities clear. Eagles quarterback Jalen Hurts touted his all-female management. Meanwhile, Chiefs quarterback Patrick Mahomes has not shied away from praise from Trump on social media. The face-off was not just a physical match-up of the best teams in the league; it was a political minefield. NFL teams played the American game, and Americans watching it all unfold participated too, whether they knew it or not.
But Lamar’s narrative does not stop there.
Many hail “Not Like Us” as one of the most brazen diss tracks ever, but its epicness lies in Lamar’s lyrical reflection on systemic abuse across time. In the song, Lamar calls out rapper Drake for alleged pedophilia and acting as a so-called “culture vulture,” profiting off the backs of people less privileged than him. Lamar suggests that Drake is no different from wealthy, white people in the 19th century taking advantage of the work of poor, Black Atlantans in the interest of power and profit.
By framing the song within both the rap game and the American game, Lamar achieved the impossible — he infiltrated the music charts with a single that condemns the industry’s executives. He also forces listeners to consider people and companies in positions of power and how their actions fit into today’s broader social fabric.
For example, Trump’s Super Bowl attendance established the game as part of a greater political move — just as the presence of Jeff Bezos, Mark Zuckerberg and Tim Cook at Trump’s inauguration is part of a greater business move. Proximity to power always matters. Drake using smaller artists for social clout is analogous to tech billionaires sitting in on Trump’s swearing-in — it is a move to flex control and influence. In the American game, a pawn that is useful to the player is a lot more likely to stay on the board — but the player can still sacrifice a pawn at any moment.
At times, it can feel as though these men have endless power. Drake is still on the charts and Trump is still signing audacious executive orders.
Lamar poses a solution to this dilemma as well. At the end of the show, Lamar argues that entertainment is a mere distraction from solving real problems. Iin his final song, “tv off,” where he highlights the necessity of authenticity in a world where the abundance of content and misinformation online make it easy to choose the comfortable truths to believe. Then, America’s most-watched stage went dark as the words “game over” flashed across the field.
The message was subtle but impactful: when average Americans become aware of their circumstances and make their values known, the game will end. Consider this as Bezos narrows the focus of the Washington Post Opinions section to free markets and liberties, and Elon Musk slashes federal budgets in an agency Trump created especially for him.
While the impetus for the end is clear, the actual end of the game is ambiguous. Perhaps everyday people tear down the structures, demand change and become empowered; maybe the powerful end the game for us.