Minimalism on Stage
The first thing that stands out in the performance—and probably the most important thing to understand—is that it is a direct continuation of the beef with Drake and the album GNX that followed. This means the show is deeply street-oriented—raw, minimalist, with hard-hitting beats and even harder rap. This element is reflected in every aspect of the set: a black-and-white court, outlined with sharp lines, with minimalistic and dark lighting that echoes the atmosphere of Compton’s streets at night. The streetlights at the corners of the court made that pretty clear, in my opinion. From the GNX car at the opening (which functions as a sort of clown car for all the dancers) to the cypher circle at the end—everything screams the aesthetic and minimalism of Kendrick's neighborhood.
The American Game
But that’s not the only thing the non-stage stage stretched over the court represents—at the corners of the court, illuminated sections are designed like the control buttons on a PlayStation controller: square, triangle, circle, and X. Throughout the show, Kendrick moves between these corners on the gaming stage he has created for himself, defining the show’s most prominent theme—the one Samuel L. Jackson (as Uncle Sam) presents as "The Great American Game." This theme operates, as Kendrick often does, on multiple levels: referencing both the quintessentially American game of football, the game Black people must play to advance in America, and the game Kendrick himself had to play this past year—the battle. But above all, this is Kendrick’s way of presenting himself as the antithesis to the game—the authentic rapper, the real thing. The purest rapper who refuses to play the game everyone expects.
The Controversial Setlist
The clearest way to see this is by looking at the song selection and their order. "The revolution will be televised; you chose the right time but the wrong man," he declares moments after opening with a song that hasn’t even been released (!). Massive hits like "Swimming Pools" or "Alright" were left out of the setlist, and the first melodic chorus arrives only in the eighth minute. Instead, you only get pure rap—aggression, rawness, hard-hitting beats, and even harder rap.
They say the Super Bowl performance is the biggest marketing stunt in the world—artists don’t get paid for it (in fact, they mostly spend on production), but they recoup it with streaming spikes. If that’s true (and it is), this is not precisely the best way to market yourself to the American public. But it is a great way to make a point. And that point starts to become clear with Samuel L. Jackson in the role of his life.
The Black Uncle Sam
The legendary Samuel L. Jackson was cast as the host of The Great American Game, appearing four times throughout the show—first introducing Kendrick, then scolding him for making the performance "too gh"tto" and demanding that he play the game. In his third appearance, he deducts one life from Kendrick (because, after ait'sit’s a game) for using a cheat code (bringing his neighborhood crew to perform with him), and in the fourth, he finally praises him for giving America what it wan"ed—"something nice and smo"th," right before warning "im "not to mess this up," meaning his chance to win the game.
Even without delving into the symbolism of the Uncle Sam figure and the choice to give the role to a subversive Black activist who also happens to be a hugely popular actit'sit’s clear that this character represents the rules of the gdon'ton’t make it too ghetto, be careful not to upset white America, give them a nice and smooth chorus. The game that Black Americans must play to be accepted, to avoid being seen as a thug, to be counted as a person. I doubt that Trump, who was in the audience, understood, but anyone who lives this game—like Kendrick—recognized UnSam'sam’s lines as what America has been telling him his whole life.
He Actually Did the Song
Before the Super Bowl, there was endless speculation about whether Kendrick would perform year'sar’s biggest h"t, "Not Like"Us." Throughout the show, he hinted at it with winks and no"s. "I wanna perform their favorite song, but you know how they love to "ue," he jabsDrake'ske’s lawsuit, making it clear that he would ultimately get to the song—right when Uncle Sam tells h"Don'ton’t mess this"up."
This act of defiance against game'sme’s expectations is accompanied by the declarati"n, "40 acres and a mule, this is bigger than mu"ic," referencing the unfulfilled promise made to freed slaves after the Civil War to provide them with land and resources. The defiance against Amerisn'tsn’t random—wyou'reu’re witnessing is the result of that broken promi"e. "Not Like"Us," a separatist anthem celebrating Black culture while distinguishing it from those now trying to cozy up to it, is the outcome of thThat'sat’s the broader context, don'ton’t try to tell tit'sit’s too ghetto.
Turn Off the TV
After an entire football stadium mocked Drake, the revolution was televised. Love it or hate it, this is what you raised. The final act of defiance against corporate America stuck in an endless rating game. It only makes sense to close w"th "TV "ff," not just because of t"at "Mustar"ddd" yell, but becathat'sat’s precisely wyou'reu’re getting—aggressive, raw, unfiltered, authentic rap like a motherf**eYou'llu’ll SZA'sZA’s choruses, too, they'rey’re not for yThey'rey’re for him—becahe'she’s the one standing in his well-kept garden, the one he worked to cultivate. If don'ton’t want to watch, turn off the TV.
didn'tdn’t come to play your game.anyone'sne’s.
No winners.
Game over.