As I am writing this, it’s Monday morning, and I can’t stop thinking about the NFL Super Bowl Halftime Show.
I am aware of the polarized opinions on Kendrick Lamar’s performance. Many readers may not be familiar with Kendrick Lamar, and, even if you listened to him, may not enjoy his music. Or, truthfully, may not fully understand it. It’s OK, and honestly, I’m there with you. Listening to Kendrick reminds me of reading Dostoevsky. Lumbering through Russian names, I realized that the effort was worthwhile to help decode a narrative that revealed something profound.
Kendrick’s Super Bowl stage, shaped like a PlayStation controller, symbolized his life as a video game — trapped in the simulation of the American Dream. The video game motif speaks to Lamar’s ongoing exploration of systemic control and survival — where every move is shaped by forces beyond his control. Samuel L. Jackson’s Uncle Sam embodied the institutions that suppress artists like Lamar, who speak truth to power. Dancers donned the red, white, and blue of America, forming the shape of the flag and raising a fist reminiscent of the Black power salute. It was a bold and beautiful commentary about the idealized, nostalgia-soaked America, and those who are intentionally removed from that narrative, despite having built the country.
Lamar’s performance echoes a long tradition of music as resistance — from Miriam Makeba’s anti-apartheid anthems to Marvin Gaye’s prophetic What’s Going On, which still asks urgent questions. Both examples of music that gave voice to the voiceless when speaking was not only unpopular but also dangerous. Much like Lamar and Makeba, another genre that defied oppression was disco. Just as Lamar and Makeba used their music to challenge oppressive systems, disco turned resistance into rhythm — fighting back through movement and joy.
Rooted in soul and funk, disco started as a place of refuge for marginalized communities — particularly Black, Latino, LGBTQ+, and working-class people. In a mainstream world that excluded, disco clubs provided a space for free self-expression. Disco wasn’t about celebrities — it was about communal dance as a radical act of joy and resistance. Songs like I Will Survive and We Are Family became anthems of resilience, empowerment, and liberation.
Disco was embraced by the mainstream — until it wasn’t. When the backlash came, it was buried, but never died. It lived on through its offspring, house music, through popular artists like Beyoncé who know and celebrate its roots — and on dance floors everywhere.
While the Super Bowl brought global conversations about music and resistance to centre stage, right here in Roberts Creek, we have our own celebration of music’s power coming up at Studio 1309, also known as xwesam-Roberts Creek Community Hall. On Saturday, Feb. 22, dj little d invites us to move, express, and celebrate music as joy, resilience, and community. The event is offered on a sliding scale from $10-15. Whether you love disco or simply need a night to move, let go, and feel alive—this event is for you. Join us on the dance floor, where music and joy come together in celebration.
And to amplify a quote from Dr. Bobby Manning on the topic of the Super Bowl: “We thought we invited a rapper… and forgot we invited a Pulitzer Prize winning poet.”
