to come to terms with the cup of beer I would not be holding throughout

the duration of this no re-entry campus concert experience. EDM and Top

40 DJ and producer 5 & A Dime began his set, causing everyone to

abandon their seats and rush up to the barricades in front of the stage.

5 & A

Dime's set sounded like a slightly less ironic version of Harmony

Korine's Skrillex-filled Spring Breakers soundtrack, transforming the

auditorium into a surrealist rave playground of rowdy students hanging

over railings and breaking into tripped out dubstep dance-offs in the

middle of the aisles. The Philly-based DJ nerdily concluded his set with

some remix overlaid with the theme music from Tetris, hyping up the

crowd for Kendrick, even though we would have to wait another hour for

the up-and-coming Compton rapper to take the stage.
As the crowd

grew restless with waiting, pressing up into each other to get closer to

the stage, one girl created a frenzy when she decided to flash everyone

in protest for not being allowed access to the closer rows that

security had begun to block off.

When Kendrick finally took the

stage, his raw, unrestrained energy perfectly matched that of the FAU

crowd, who somehow, surprisingly, knew all of the lyrics to his songs, and made it

known. The rapper demanded our attention with his original and

effortless flow -- a completely refreshing sound like a cross between Bone

Thugs and Outkast -- even though at 5 foot 6 and age 25, he looked

more like one of the students rather than the artist some rap veterans

have begun calling the new "King of California."
He started out

with tracks from earlier in his career like "P & P (Pussy &

Patron)" and his breakout 2011 track "A.D.H.D.," asking the audience,

"Who's been a fan since day one?" He received an answer of impassioned screams.

When Kendrick said "Raise up your threes," the crowd obeyed, lifting

their three-fingered hands in the air, screaming louder when Kendrick

said, "Didn't y'all know this was going to be the loudest show?"

show only got better as Kendrick warmed up and moved into his newer

tracks, "Money Trees," "Bitch Don't Kill My Vibe," "Poetic Justice,"

"Compton," and even A$AP Rocky's "Fuckin' Problems," on which he rapped

only his verse and let the crowd handle the rest. 

Apart from his

complex and often poetic lyrics on everything from love and sex to drugs, crime, fame, and family problems, the rapper can do some pretty

impressive things with his voice and intonations; and even though his

vocal style throughout the show was more aggressive and less polished than on his records,

he kept the crowd engaged and even broke out into brief freestyles

between songs.
I was engrossed by the combination of the

neon-wearing, mid-rift-baring, dubstep-dancing crowd of adolescents

with the sincere, raw energy and talent of a young rapper who's

descended onto the map in the last few years like a hurricane out of

thin air. I couldn't help but allow the whole experience to restore a

little faith in our permanent Spring Breakers generation of young

people.

As I listened to an entire auditorium sing along with every word

like a chorus of devout disciples, it dawned on me that even as we Americans revel in the demented freedom of our morally bankrupt, overly-saturated, and hyper-excessive youth-domintated culture, perhaps we are still capable of really caring about something,

of connecting, and creating our own future for ourselves.

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