“The Revolution ‘Bout to Be Televised”: How Kendrick Lamar & Bad Bunny Are Redefining the Super Bowl Halftime Stage

“The Revolution ‘Bout to Be Televised”: How Kendrick Lamar & Bad Bunny Are Redefining the Super Bowl Halftime Stage

When Kendrick Lamar declared “the revolution ’bout to be televised” at Super Bowl LIX, he set the tone. Now, with Bad Bunny headlining Super Bowl LX, the NFL faces a new cultural moment. The Super Bowl halftime show has long been a spectacle of pop culture — a dazzling intersection of entertainment, music, image, and sometimes politics. Yet rarely has it felt more like a pivot point in cultural history than when Kendrick Lamar perched atop a Buick GNX in February 2025 and intoned, “the revolution ’bout to be televised.” (Los Angeles Times) That line, delivered at the peak of America’s most-watched domestic sporting event, sent ripples far beyond the turf.

Fast forward: the NFL’s announcement that Bad Bunny will headline the Super Bowl LX halftime show in February 2026 marks yet another bold choice by the league — one that signals their continued embrace of artists who don’t shy away from social commentary. (Reuters)

In this deep dive, we’ll trace the connection between Lamar’s performance and Bad Bunny’s selection, examine how the Super Bowl has become a new canvas for cultural politics, and explore the implications of “televising the revolution” in 2026 and beyond.


Bad Bunny watches game three of the second round for the 2025 NBA Playoffs between the Boston Celtics and the against the New York Knicks at Madison Square Garden on May 10, 2025.

   1. Revisiting Kendrick Lamar: “The Revolution ’Bout to Be Televised”

1.1. Context & symbolism at the Super Bowl

Kendrick Lamar’s halftime show at Super Bowl LIX broke new ground — he became the first rapper to headline solo, and his performance was steeped in cultural critique. (Pitchfork) The stage was designed like a video game controller, and his all-Black ensemble formed the American flag — visually reminding audiences how Black histories are foundational to the U.S. (The Barnard Bulletin)

Lamar opened with:

“The revolution ’bout to be televised — you picked the right time but the wrong guy.” (The Barnard Bulletin)

The phrasing deliberately references Gil Scott-Heron’s iconic protest poem, “The Revolution Will Not Be Televised.” (Wikipedia) In Scott-Heron’s original, the idea was that revolution would not be mediated or commodified by media. Kendrick flips that: the revolution will be televised — it is occurring now, and it demands to be witnessed. (No Film School)

Equally potent was Lamar’s closing act. His final piece, “TV Off,” served as both critique and call to action — a reminder that media can’t contain genuine change. (Denver Westword)

1.2. Who was he speaking to — and why “the wrong guy”?

Lamar’s line is layered. On one level, it may have been a jab at political leaders (then-President Donald Trump was present at the game) (Los Angeles Times). But more broadly, he was addressing power structures, media control, and who gets to claim leadership in moments of resistance. (The Barnard Bulletin)

Some commentators interpreted “the wrong guy” as Kendrick distancing himself from being the savior figure of a movement — he’s not claiming leadership, but insisting the time is ripe. (Her Campus) Reddit threads echoed this by noting:

“The time is right for revolution, but I’m not your leader.” (Reddit)

The performance, in essence, was a deeply crafted protest delivered on one of the largest global stages.


2. The NFL’s controversial pivot: Embracing cultural risk

2.1. A pattern of cultural boldness

Kendrick was not the first controversial choice for a Super Bowl halftime show, nor will he be the last. The league’s evolving strategy — to embrace artists who provoke discourse — began earlier.

In 2016, Colin Kaepernick’s kneeling protests against racial injustice stirred intense debate and backlash. (The Barnard Bulletin) His silent protest kicked off years of discussion on how the NFL and sports in general engage with activism. Then in 2019, the NFL struck a partnership with Jay-Z’s Roc Nation that merged music production with the league’s social justice initiatives. (The Barnard Bulletin) Jay-Z has defended the collaboration, insisting that the NFL is a huge platform that must be more inclusive. (The Barnard Bulletin)

That partnership was renewed in 2024, and Jay-Z played a direct role in curating the 2025 and upcoming halftime performances. (Reuters) When Bad Bunny’s selection was announced, Jay-Z issued praise:

“What Benito (Bad Bunny) has done and continues to do for Puerto Rico is truly inspiring … We are honored to have him on the world’s biggest stage.” (Reuters)

2.2. Why “controversial” resonates

The NFL’s embrace of politically visible artists is a deliberate move away from purely apolitical entertainment. With Kendrick and now Bad Bunny, the league seems intent on addressing evolving cultural landscapes and bold voices — even if some fans bristle at the mixture of politics and sport.

That said, controversy isn’t new to the stage. Beyoncé stirred backlash in 2016 for paying tribute to Black Lives Matter during her halftime act. (The Barnard Bulletin) And in many quarters, Lamar’s performance was labeled too “political” or divisive.

Still, from a strategic standpoint, the NFL benefits: it stays culturally relevant, sparks conversation, and drives viewership — particularly among younger, more diverse audiences.


3. Bad Bunny’s rise — and why he was chosen

3.1. A career built on boundary pushing

Benito Antonio Martínez Ocasio, better known as Bad Bunny, has become one of the most influential Latin music stars of his generation. (Wikipedia) His Puerto Rico concert residencies have drawn half a million fans, and his albums consistently dominate streaming charts. (AP News)

Yet it’s not just his music. Bad Bunny has used his platform to speak out on social issues — from criticizing harsh immigration policies to highlighting Puerto Rico’s needs post-Hurricane Maria. (Wikipedia)

In 2024, he publicly endorsed Vice President Kamala Harris, reposting a video condemning Donald Trump’s handling of Puerto Rico recovery. (Reuters) Those actions cemented his image as a socially conscious artist rather than a mere entertainer.

3.2. A U.S. tour withheld — for safety

One particularly striking choice: he didn’t schedule U.S. tour dates in 2025, citing fears that U.S. Immigration and Customs Enforcement (ICE) might target his fans at concert venues. (Wikipedia) “F-ing ICE could be outside,” he said in an interview, acknowledging the potential risk. (Reuters)

That decision added weight to his performance — it underscored how his identity, community, and personal risks are deeply entwined with his art.

3.3. The significance of his Super Bowl slot

When the NFL, Apple Music, and Roc Nation made the joint announcement, Bad Bunny said:

“What I’m feeling goes beyond myself … this is for my people, my culture, and our history. Ve y dile a tu abuela, que seremos el Halftime Show del Super Bowl.” (Reuters)

He framed the performance not just as a personal victory, but a moment for entire communities — Latinos, Puerto Ricans, cultures historically underrepresented on global stages.

As one early reaction reported: Bad Bunny learned of the news while doing pull-ups at the gym. The emotional gravity of the moment was clear: this performance is about more than music. (EW.com)


4. What this means for the Super Bowl — and for activism on stage

4.1. Televised revolution 2.0

Kendrick Lamar’s line “the revolution ’bout to be televised” challenged media and power. Bad Bunny’s impending halftime show suggests an evolution: the stage itself may become the terrain for cultural resistance. The NFL is not merely hosting entertainment — it’s curating a narrative.

In this light, Kendrick’s statement is prophetic. The “revolution” is not a distant ideal — it is unfolding in real time, on global screens, through artists who refuse to remain silent.

4.2. Audience, backlash, and optics

Bad Bunny’s selection has already sparked criticism from some corners, with objections focused on his outspokenness, ICE comments, and political stances. (Fox News) Meanwhile, support is strong among fans who see this as overdue representation.

The NFL is betting that controversy will not undercut viewership — it may fuel it. As with Kendrick’s show, the attention drawn by cultural friction is part of the platform.

4.3. Beyond 12–15 minutes

While the halftime performance itself will run roughly 12 to 15 minutes, its cultural reverberations last far longer. The rare opportunity to speak to millions — live — is a power not lost on these artists.

Bad Bunny’s upcoming setlist may include hits from his No Me Quiero Ir de Aquí residency: songs like “Tití Me Preguntó,” “La Romana,” “Safaera,” and “NUEVAYoL” could appear. (ABC News) Surprises and guest appearances are almost guaranteed. (Pitchfork)


5. A look ahead: expectations & cultural implications

5.1. Setting the bar

Kendrick Lamar’s LIX performance drew a record viewership of 133.5 million across broadcast and streaming platforms. (AP News) Expectations will be sky-high for Bad Bunny’s performance — not just to entertain, but to make a statement.

5.2. A new standard for representation

Bad Bunny’s presence places Latin music, language, and cultural identity at the center of one of America’s largest media events. It bridges the often-separate spheres of sport, politics, and Latinx cultural pride.

5.3. Activism as performance — and vice versa

If Lamar invited viewers to question who controls the narrative, Bad Bunny’s slot affirms that activism can and will take many forms. The mere act of granting space to voices once considered “risky” marks a shift in how global culture is curated. When Kendrick Lamar declared “the revolution ’bout to be televised,” he was not just making a statement — he was issuing a challenge and reclaiming narrative control. The NFL’s decision to follow that moment with Bad Bunny’s headline slot at Super Bowl LX is no coincidence. It signals an era where the stage is political, representation matters, and the outlawed or marginalized voices increasingly matter — especially when millions are watching.

In February 2026, at Levi’s Stadium, we won’t just witness a concert — we’ll bear witness to a cultural reckoning. And whether the revolution is televised — or televised well enough — rests with the artists, the audience, and how long we stay tuned.


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