The dark ages of the halftime show

They say it’s always darkest before the dawn. Surely it couldn’t get any darker than last year’s halftime show, when the Black Eyed Peas “performed” a 13-minute Tron-themed set.

The big game in Indianapolis this weekend was supposed to be the dawn of a new age. But alas, the sun refuses to rise, and Madonna is scheduled to perform at the Super Bowl XLVI halftime show.

The Super Bowl is the culmination of the entire football season. Only the best of the best reach that level, and for many players just making it to the big game is the highlight of their career — win or lose.

Each year, more than 100 million fans across the nation tune in whether their team is in the game or not. Last year, a record 111 million people watched Aaron Rodgers lead his Packers to a Super Bowl victory. Unfortunately, the same amount of people had to watch will.i.am. lead Fergie to the front of the stage.

I only wish it was possible to forget she covered “Sweet Child o’ Mine” while Slash made a two-minute appearance.

But we weren’t always subjected to such atrocities during the halftime show.

In the very first Super Bowl in 1967, marching bands from University of Arizona, University of Michigan and Grambling State University performed, presumably to polite applause, in the Los Angeles Memorial Coliseum.

Marching bands were kings for decades until organizers decided to sign well-known artists as the main attractions. For a while, the Super Bowl was pulling in performers at the height of their popularity: New Kids on the Block at Super Bowl XXV, Diana Ross at XXX and the Prince of Pop himself, Michael Jackson, at XXVII.

A single performer was working so well, they decided to put together super-shows (a novel idea) with an entire array of popular performers. In 2001, the likes of Aerosmith, ’N Sync, Britney Spears, Mary J. Blige and Nelly all graced the stage in Raymond James Stadium.

So how did we get from the Prince of Pop in his prime to the Material Girl a solid two decades past hers?

Blame Janet Jackson’s jewel-encrusted right nipple.

The year is 2004. It’s Super Bowl XXXVIII, and the Patriots lead the Panthers 14-10 at the end of the second quarter. Reliant Stadium is filled to the brim as P. Diddy and Kid Rock do their thing. Then Janet Jackson is joined by Justin Timberlake as they sing a duet of “Rock Your Body.” At the climax of the song, JT rips off part of Janet’s costume, revealing the areola artwork seen ’round the world in the most obvious wardrobe malfunction in all of live television.

Ever since then, the Super Bowl has been ultra-conservative, bringing in acts such as Paul McCartney, the Rolling Stones and the Who. While no one can deny that list includes some of the best musicians of all time, that argument would be based on their work from the 1960s. For what it’s worth, they’re all English, too.

They have their own football, damn it!

This year — one in which our fair state is host to the biggest sporting event of the year — the Super Bowl books a woman with a fake British accent from Michigan whose most recent accomplishment was kissing Spears back in 2003.

So where do we go from here?

Perhaps we could put an age limit on the performers. We could always cap it at however old the Foo Fighters are, because that would be a cool show.

Or maybe this is the decade that we bring back the marching bands. We have our very own Marching Hundred, which would be more than happy to fill in and could probably whip up a rousing arrangement of “Like A Virgin” if it’s absolutely necessary.

Even though the shadow of Janet Jackson’s nipple has extended to Indianapolis, surely Madonna will return to her hyperbolic chamber once she lip-synchs her way through “Vogue,” and the sun will rise on a new era of Super Bowl performances — an era in which we’ll be proud to remain on the couch at halftime rather than going to get more chicken wings from the kitchen.