Picture a quiet May evening on the quad. Squirrels frolic in the freshly sodded grass, as squirrels are wont to do, and the harmonious din of crickets emanates from the botany pond. Maybe a lone student sits outside of Cobb, soaking in summer’s gentle promise while contemplating his Comp Sci lab.
Now picture Kevin Federline.
After decades of bringing trite, “respectable” musical acts such as the Ramones, Moby, and Mos Def to Hutch courtyard, it’s time the Major Activities Board poured its energy into something useful, something that will breathe new life into a tired tradition of excellence. It’s time for Mr. Britney Spears.
In contemporary American pop culture, there is perhaps no figure more universally laughed-at than K-Fed. When the legend himself debuted his new single “Lose Control” at the MTV Video Music Awards this July, it was one of the all time “Did he just?...he didn’t…HE DID!” fall-out-of-your-chair-laughing moments. It was one of those snapshots in time, like the O.J. chase or the moon landing, where everyone can recount in perfect detail where they were, whom they were with, and what they were doing when they found out.
Myself, I was at home. It was morning, the sun was shining, the birds were chirping, and I didn’t think anything could touch the idyllic summer day I had ahead of me. And then I saw the footage: the breakdancers jumping all over the stage like grasshoppers, the backup singers crooning their boss’s poetic musings into the mic, and of course, the man of the hour.
Only K-Fed could sing about “hip-hop flavor mixed with rock and roll,” whilst mixing neither flavor nor rock and roll. Only K-Fed could break the unofficial industry-wide ban on name-dropping Cristal without any remorse in the same song that he utters “I’ve never been a digger but I rock ’em nuggets.” Only K-Fed.
But all the YouTube clips in this world—and there are plenty—cannot capture the essence of what it means to see the great maestro of our time in person. You can watch James Lipton recite Mr. Spears’ ingenious rhyming of “humble” and “Bryant Gumble” until your eyes glaze over; you can loop the tape of a gleeful Federline listening to Popozao for the first time over and over like crimson and clover; you can read all about his upcoming appearance on WWE Raw! on your favorite professional wrestling blogs. But until you’ve witnessed a wifebeater-clad, Budweiser hat-toting, stubble-encrusted K-Fed toss baby Sean Preston into the crowd at Summer Breeze, boy you ain’t lived.
As much as it is about getting acquainted with long-dead philosophers and learning the basic cell structures of protists, college is about experiencing the world beyond the sheltered realm of your hometown. Bringing K-Fed to Summer Breeze would be a symbiotic cultural exchange for all involved. K-Fed, who I presume is completely illiterate and only capable of communicating off the stage through a series of octaval grunts, would surely benefit from the exposure to one of the best universities in the world. More importantly, the student body, just two weeks away from finals, would be reminded that no matter how poorly they do on their organic chemistry exams, at least they’ll never be Kevin Federline.
The move would not be without precedent, either. Last year, students at Princeton brought the Swedish pop sensation Gunther to campus, where he performed ballads such as “Ding Dong Song” and “Tutti Frutti Summer Love.” It was by all accounts a tremendous success, and was assimilated into the campus’s annual “houseparties” weekend, a three-day festival that is exactly what it sounds like.
With K-Fed most likely set to do a world tour to promote his provocative new album, “Playing with Fire,” the time for action is now. MAB must act quickly or this crown jewel of the hip-hop world will be snapped up by some less deserving school.
Kevin Federline, Live from Hutch Courtyard. Let’s make this dream a reality. Lord knows we could all use a little popozao.