A Take-You-Down Song

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If you’re a fan of rap music, you probably thought last Sunday’s halftime show was the best ever.

If you’re not into rap, you probably wondered why so many people were so worked up about Kendrick Lamar’s performance – and how anyone could figure out what he was actually trying to say.

There’s quite a back story to all the excitement.

Two major figures have dominated the rap scene over the past decade. One of them is Drake, unquestionably one of the most popular artists on the planet, regardless of musical genre. For years he cultivated a working relationship with the other major figure in the world of rap, Lamar, who quickly emerged as his chief rival.

About a year ago, something apparently went sideways. Their friendship and collaboration came to a screeching halt.

The result was a series of “diss tracks” – provocative raps in which the two hurled increasingly edgy insults at each other.

I should pause here and acknowledge that as a White guy born in the 1950s, I am one of the world’s least qualified commentators on the nuances of rap music. Cultural critic Joe Coscarelli, however, points out that it’s common knowledge that rappers live for this kind of give-and-take. Two artists square off and try to take each other down, declaring the evident superiority of their own street cred, style, wealth, and current female companions.

Drake and Lamar went back and forth for a few months. Then Kendrick seemed to step way over the line.

He wrote a catchy song called “Not Like Us” in which he calls out Drake by name. His adversary is a phony, a pretender, a total user of other people, and even a pedophile. He raps that when Drake composes, he does so in the key of “A Minor.” A minor, get it? Drake has never actually been charged with underage sexual activity.

It’s an unapologetically venomous song. Yet somehow it became a smash hit, winning the “Song of the Year” Grammy earlier this month and propelling Kendrick to the Super Bowl, where he became the first rapper to headline the world’s biggest live stage.

He wouldn’t actually sing “Not Like Us” during his halftime show, would he, exposing Drake to global humiliation?

He did exactly that.

Many in the crowd knew what was happening, as evidenced by the fact that they joyfully screamed “A Minnnnoooor” right along with Lamar. Rap music fans exulted in the fact that Drake, their biggest star, was being seriously kicked to the curb.

Why, Coscarelli asks, have so many people fallen in love with a song about hate? 

Part of the answer lies in the inherent nature of rap. Diss tracks are meant to disrespect one’s rivals. Status is assigned to the artists who can do it with the greatest flair.

Then there’s Schadenfreude, humanity’s universal enjoyment of watching the high and mighty get their comeuppance. In the midst of all his fame and glory, it was time, many thought, for Drake to take some hits. And Kendrick Lamar, widely considered to be more authentic and likeable, was just the guy to do it.

Coscarelli affirms that “Not Like Us” is actually a great song. It has “sort of wormed its way into culture.” It’s one of those numbers that’s fun to sing with other people – just as many fans were doing last Sunday – and that also tends to get stuck in your head.

But there’s something else happening here. “I don’t think,” he admits, “you can ignore the part of it that appeals to a sort of very American bloodlust. There’s this sense of loving violence and winning and rooting for someone’s demise. I think that says a lot about us as a culture, probably more than it says about Kendrick.”

In other words, there’s something inside a great many of us that simply loves to hate.

Which, you have to admit, is a hard message to swallow on Valentine’s Day.

What can we do?

The apostle Paul writes, “You were taught, with regard to your former way of life, to put off your old self, which is being corrupted by its deceitful desires; to be made new in the attitude of your minds; and to put on the new self, created to be like God in true righteousness and holiness” (Ephesians 4:22-24).

The language of putting off and putting on speaks to how we “get dressed” every day.

Will we put on the clean garments of a new kind of life, or keep wearing the same old RAGS (resentment, anger, greed and superiority) that keep us trapped in relational misery?

Such a transformation doesn’t “just happen.” We must prayerfully, hopefully, and deliberately embrace this Spirit-prompted pathway every new day.

And when we’re fresh out of inspiration to keep going, we can remember the words of Martin Luther King, Jr:

“Darkness cannot drive out darkness. Only light can do that. Hate cannot drive out hate. Only love can do that.”

No rapper has ever delivered a more timely word.