“This Plot is Bigger Than Me”
Why the Media censored Kendrick Lamar’s 2016 Grammy performance
“You hate me, don’t you! You hate my people, your plan is to terminate my culture!” —Kendrick Lamar
On March 15th 2015, Kendrick Lamar released “To Pimp a Butterfly.” His third studio album took everything excellent about good kid, m.A.A.d city and Section.80 to weave a story of poverty, pain, trauma and centuries of hate. With incisive lyrics, masterfully done jazz/neo soul instrumentals and an emotional story that concludes with an iconic spoken word piece, TPAB (To Pimp a Butterfly) cements itself as the greatest album of our time.
Eleven months later, Lamar was booked for the 2016 Grammys in his home state of California. The host, LL Cool J, warned the audience that “Kendrick Lamar is going to do something very controversial”, right before the headlining performance.
The curtains rise to reveal a dilapidated cell block, where a slow sax ushers Kendrick’s chain gang to center stage. After hobbling forwards and feebly picking up the mic, he stares at the audience with a mixture of fear and hatred.
The opening guitar to “The Blacker the Berry” rips through the silence then stops. Kendrick scans the crowd as it erupts. When the noise dies, he launches himself into the opening bars with a rage justifiable.
“I’m the biggest hypocrite of 2015, once I finish this, witnesses will convey just what I mean!”
A wrathful condemnation of America (“The Blacker the Berry”) is followed by a celebration of Black America’s continual perseverance through oppression (“Alright”). At the height of the performance, with a bonfire roaring behind him, he transitions into his pièce de résistance.
“My rights, my wrongs; I write ‘till I’m right with . . . God”
When “God” leaves his lips, he dizzily staggers over to the next stage, where a spotlight awaits. There are no props, no dancers, no fires or guitar solos, just a lone microphone, a lucid island in the middle of an overwhelming darkness.
“The situation is heavy, I got to prove
on February 26th I lost my life too”
Within seconds, all the air is sucked out of the room. What was previously an upbeat celebration of culture and triumph is turned into a traumatic recollection of American injustice.
Lamar, on the verge of tears, soulfully recounts the moments he became aware of Trayvon Martin’s murder. Only 17, the boy was gunned down by George Zimmerman.
“It’s like I’m here in a dark dream
nightmare, hear screams recorded,
they say that it sounds distorted
but I know who it was,
that was me yelling for help
as he drowned in his blood”
What amplifies the tragedy of this event is the prevalence. What happened wasn’t an isolated event, it is an everyday occurrence that could’ve even taken the life of Kendrick himself.
“This is modern day slavery;
the reason why I’m by your house
you throw your briefcase all on the couch
I plan on creepin’ through your damn door
and blowin out
every piece of your brain
till your son jumps in your arms”
Kendrick continues to execrate America, decrying 400 years of systemic racism. He tells the tale of a man who has lost everything (except some Taaka vodka, a bible and a gun) stalking his oppressor, following his car and exacting revenge in front of his family. This expertly woven metaphor is representative of African American culture rising up to dominating the mainstream, defying those who would wish to subjugate it.
“Conversation for this entire nation, this is bigger than us!”
As he finishes his rendition of Untitled 05, the screen behind him shows an outline of Africa, with “Compton” written in the middle. It is perfect. He knows it, the audience knows it, everyone at home knew it, but that was the problem. Instead of lip syncing a random pop hit, he delivered a message. And unfortunately, it was a message that millions of Americans were not happy to hear.
Even though he received unanimous acclaim, the performance was scrubbed from cable, Youtube and streaming within a week. And get this: it still isn’t back. If it weren’t sad, it would be funny. Kendrick Lamar says that Black culture is being stolen and suppressed by a racist system of capitalism, then the Grammys removed his performance because it upset the racist executives. However, the removal of the message makes it all the more powerful. The music industry’s refusal to accept mainstream grievance means performances like this are all the more necessary, and in light of recent movements, one can’t help but hope. The seething taboo that once bound men’s tongues has been loosened, and a flood of resistance rushes forward to defy the status quo. In conjunction with recent political victories, change is all but inevitable. As Kendrick Lamar would say,
“My knees get weak, and my gun might blow, but we gon’ be alright”
