Reverend Brian C. Cool sent an email to the Newman Catholic Community this Thursday urging students to reconsider attending CupcakKe’s performance at Dandelion Day.
The pop star, known for her raunchy lyrics and hits such as “Deepthroat” and “Vagina,” made an appearance this Friday in the Hill Court parking lot.
“The selection of Cupcak[K]e as the headliner artist, and much of the content of her music, raises serious concerns,” the memo read.
“I find myself asking what this choice teaches […] about our understanding of the human person, sexuality, and relationships. Does it uphold human dignity and our Meliora values, or does it diminish them?”
Reverend Cool, I’ll have you know that I was thinking the exact same thing. When CupcakKe was first announced for D-Day, I did not jump for joy and immediately queue “CPR” to my playlist. I was not giddy that someone other than an indie boy band would grace the Dandelion Day stage in my time at this university (Author’s Note: I was not present for A$AP Ferg due to external conflicts). I was disturbed, because I’ve never heard the word dick in my life and I was scared to learn what it meant. Thus, much like you, I came to question whether CupcakKe, renowned raunchy rapper and advocate for organizations including the Palestine Children’s Relief Fund (to which she made a $15,000 donation), upheld Meliora values.
Which is why, “debasing nature of the lyrics” and all, I just had to attend the show. No other reasons.
Truthfully, this wasn’t my first time at the bakery. My first time seeing CupcakKe was at Pitchfork in 2022, in which she called the early-afternoon crowd lame. Unfortunately, it was true. Despite her boisterous and bawdy set, the Chicago hipsters gave her nothing but half-baked whoops in response to a refined selection of songs about sucking dick and fucking hard. With all of the fix-ins. Much to my own weakness, I watched the set from a picnic blanket. Why? Because Mitski was headlining and I had to conserve my energy.
But, for Dandelion Day…? I had to right my wrongs. I was getting front row for CupcakKe — whether the path be through hell, high water, or the Hill Court bridge.
Now, frankly, the concert’s relocation to the Hill Court parking lot (prompted by the construction of the Newman Catholic Center) was for the best. No longer will Gilbert freshmen be subjected to the booming wrath of the D-Day concert. Instead, the responsibility is now passed to the upperclassmen, who are either at the concert or so sick of the school already that one loud concert isn’t gonna make or break it all. For any Susan B. Anthony residents also afflicted by the concert, please know the quad has suffered enough. Taking on the noise is a community effort. Behind the fenced-off area only open to URochester students with a CCC code was a grassy hill from which students laid out their picnic blankets and towels to watch the performance. Whether you’re too tired to stand, too drunk to get in, or a graduate student betrayed by the underclassmen-only rule, the D-Day concert remains open and (mostly) accessible for one and all.
While I fought my way to stand a few rows back from the barricade (i.e. got there shortly after doors opened at 6:45 p.m.), I gotta say, those picnic blankets across the hill looked comfy.
Before CupcakKe took the stage, her performance was preluded by an (extended) hour-and-a-half long set from a local DJ, one who I’ve been told is the Student Association of Vegan and Vegetarian Youth’s advisor.
While I’ll keep this section short for posterity and kindness, I’ll list a few (less than enjoyable) things:
- Cranking up the bass does not make you a good DJ.
- Why are you playing the Cha-Cha Slide in an incredibly crowded pit?
- You had two water bottles on stage. What was in the second one and could I get some of it next time?
In his defense, this guy seemed to be having a great time. I respect that. To his offense, the crowd did not.
Speaking of this crowd, and presumably my audience for this piece, some of y’all need to learn concert etiquette. Stop pushing and trying to get to your friends in the front. I don’t care that you hid two Pink Whitney shooters in your socks and you just need to get one to your bestie at the barricade. I don’t care that this is your first D-Day ever and you’re gonna die if you can’t see over the 5’9 man in front of you even in your big thigh-high boots. Be courteous and show up earlier instead.
And thus, surrounded by pushy underclassmen, university mandated light-sticks, and squadrons of men wearing their “I <3 the Female Orgasm” shirts (No shade to y’all, I fuck with it. Just make sure to practice what you preach), the concert finally began — approximately 10 minutes after it was scheduled.
Now, if you’re Reverend Cool and you’re somehow still skimming along, this is the moment to tune back in. This is where I actually talk about CupcakKe’s performance and her adherence to Meliora values.
In the Year of our Lord 2026, I’ll tell you here first that seeing CupcakKe live is probably the closest you’re gonna get to seeing Aphrodite born again. That is, if Aphrodite’s seashell was a silvery skater skirt and the goddess took form as a beautiful woman ready to rap about getting some.
“I don’t know why they booked me here because I’m gonna talk about sucking dick all night!” she said as she opened the concert. In response, the audience cheered.
CupcakKe’s claim was not an understatement. Throughout the evening, she flaunted an extensive discography of sex-anthems — fun and frills included. While the rapped verses were primarily a solo effort on her (and her backing-track’s) part, each refrain was sung loudly and proudly by the gawking crowd of college students.
From “Vagina”’s chorus of “slurp that dick ‘til it cum” to CupcakKe’s weekly plan of “[Monday – Saturday] eat my ass” in “Sloppy Joe,” the energy in the crowd moved faster than you could say “I really honor God / So Sunday I’ll let you fast.”
I’ve never been happier to moan to the moon in a crowd of my collegiate peers, though I’m a bit jealous of all of the audience members whose phones she took selfies on throughout the show.
If one chooses to engage with it, sex-talk doesn’t have to be a daunting topic. Through her discography, CupcakKe and her lyricism preach a model of enthusiastic consent: one in which she claims power in both giving and receiving pleasure.
Take the example of “Deepthroat,” a crowd and performer favorite which CupcakKe reprised for a second run-around during her four-song encore.
While she begs to be humped, fucked, choked, and suck dick with her “mouth wide open like [she] was at the dentist,” her refrains of “fuck this pussy” emphasize empowerment of her sexuality — an aim achieved in the audience’s enthusiasm while chanting along.
Although she toys with terms of degradation and asks the crowd if they’re ready to be sluts and whores for the evening (to which the answer seemed pretty affirmative by the roaring response), it’s all in good form. Sex can be fun. Sex can be funny. The concept of it can be too.
But, regardless of whether you’re talking about sex or having it, it should all be done with consent, comfort, and the empowerment of one’s physical and verbal language.
As CupcakKe is a virgin, rumored asexual, and a survivor of abuse, I’d presume she aligns with the same mentality. Have fun with it and let your freak flag fly — in a willing environment.
So, as she reentered the stage for an encore and I found myself once again clamoring for a spot in the front row, I’ve gotta say she exceeded those Meliora values Reverend Cool appealed to in his email. O-rail-me values, perhaps, if you want to get cheeky with it.
For all the sweet, sour, and Macarollin’ moments that the D-Day before me carried, it must be said, for lack of better words, that CupcakKe was the finger-slurping-good frosting on the cake.
Let’s do that a baker’s dozen times more.
