Last fall, troche as I sat through the sloppy turd of an album that is “Cruel Summer”, I began to worry that Kanye’s best albums were behind him, that music no longer remained his number one priority, that Kim K was indeed the modern day Yoko Ono. Such concerns were premature. Kanye ditched the side acts and got back in touch with what he cares about most- himself- and now we have “Yeezus”, the most bold, most batshit, most brilliantly manic album of an already iconic career, and an album that cements Kanye as the most important musical artist of this last decade.
That is the power of “Yeezus”: one cannot listen to it (or to more accurate, experience it) without becoming prone to hyperbole. It’s like nothing you’ve ever heard, a restless and unpredictable array of tech house/minimalist hip-hop/ soul/ reggae/ crude raps, so varied and dense that it feels closer to 2 hours than its 38 minutes. Kanye the producer has never been more inspired or in more masterly control of his sound.
Of course, it’s Kanye the lyricist that people will be talking about-Kanye the loudmouth, Kanye the jackass. He’s immensely clever and quotable as always, only there’s an ugly desperation to his dick puns and male bravado, like a high school sophomore lying to his friends about getting laid. It’s been deemed his most offensive album and it’s hard to disagree, with everything from a Parkinsons joke to a line about fisting his girl “like a Civil Right’s sign” popping up in the album. Even in “Bound 2”, the album’s most “tender” song, Kanye’s idea of sweet talk is “I want to fuck you hard on the sink.” This is not the matured voice of an expectant father. While Kanye the producer is as innovative, as worldly, as in control as ever, Kanye the lyricist remains ignorant, crass, reckless.
It’s this dissonance that makes Kanye and his music so compelling, this tension between his unquestionable genius and his indefensible assholery. It gives all of his songs the sense of immediate judgment, the sense that he knows exactly how vapid and amoral his lifestyle has become… only, he just can’t help himself. This tension between social consciousness and indulgence has always existed in rap, going back to 2Pac mourning Brenda’s Baby in one track and promoting Thug Life in the next, only no rapper has played on this irony more than Kanye, a guy who raps “I know Spike Lee gone kill me, but let me finish…” right before talking about living “no limits,” bragging about his crib and comparing himself to Elvis.
He’ll compare himself to musical legends, to entrepreneurs, to God himself, but don’t be fooled: there’s a sly self-awareness to Kanye, even at his most egotistical and outrageous. Go ahead and laugh at “HURRY UP WITH MY DAMN CROSSANTS!”; just know that Kanye’s in on the joke the entire time, that he was fully aware of the mega-meme he was spawning the moment he came up with the line. Self-awareness has always been part of what sets Kanye apart from every other rapper who claims to be the king of hip-hop. This dates back to 2004’s “College Dropout,” the charming, soulful debut album by a young Chicago dude who rapped about family holidays and working shitty jobs at the mall. Even as an outsider, Kanye was fully aware of the problematic values possessed by him and hip-hop culture: “I wanna act ballerific like it’s all terrific…/ I got a problem with spending before I get it/ We all self- conscious, I’m just the first to admit it” he raps on “All Falls Down”.
Due to the intimacy of his lyrics and his propensity for self-reflection, Kanye’s discography creates a fascinating personal narrative about celebrity: as mentioned, there’s the likable, down-to-earth, pre-star Kanye of “College Dropout”; next comes the lavish orchestrations of “Late Registration,” with finds Kanye both appreciative and awe-struck by his newfound place in high society; there’s the heartbroken and vulnerable Kanye of “808’s & Heartbreak”; then there’s the brazen and ambitious Kanye of “My Beautiful Dark Twisted Fantasy,” desperate to rebound from the Taylor Swift incident. Which brings us to the debauched, bitter Kanye of “Yeezus,” a man eager to prove to the world just how little fucks he has left to give (1).
It’s unclear exactly what has set Kanye off. Is it his reality TV romance? His (at the time) impending fatherhood? Have the years in the spotlight finally caught up to him? Whatever their source, Kanye’s troubles and anxieties echo throughout the “Yeezus” soundscape. You’ve sure by now heard “Black Skinhead,” a blend of drums, snarls and screams that could only come from a mind on the brink of insanity (and a song that’s perfect for the “Wolf of Wall Street” trailer). There’s the angry, eclectic “New Slaves,” a song that laments modern racism without really citing any particulars. “Blood on the Leaves” finds a way to bring heartfelt (albeit autotuned) passion to America’s least favorite couple (though to me, the song’s blaring horns indicate more regret than romance). Even in “Bound 2”, the song most reminiscent of Kanye’s early soul sounds, something cynical lingers, a certain ambivalence regarding his future (2).
There are no foreseeable radio singles off this album. It just may be the loudest and most extravagant personal album ever recorded, like the inner workings of a crazed, coked up guy trying to keep the party going at 6 am when everyone else just wants to go home. Kanye’s bitter feelings, his crude ideas- these aren’t admirable in themself; the ability to express this noisy and flawed interior with such precision, to expose his grandiose inner turmoil with an equally grandiose sound- that’s what makes Kanye worth listening to.
It’s easy to be distracted by the arrogant sound bites, the award show antics, the fish dick jokes, the kilt- this is the persona that Kanye has cultivated for himself (3). But while these things dominate the Kanye conversation, he carries on with the most acclaimed career of any contemporary musician, regardless of genre. It feels redundant to laud him when Kanye spends so much time doing it himself, but in twenty years, he will go down as this era’s Elvis, Lennon, Madonna- whatever musical iconoclast comes to mind. This doesn’t mean I want you to stop hating. By all means, hate away. I can’t wait to hear what it spurs him to next.
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(1) Yes, I left out “Watch the Throne,” “Graduation” and “Cruel Summer”. “Watch the Throne” was great, “Graduation” was very good, “Cruel Summer” was bad; none of them revealed anything new about Kanye.
(2) My Sure-to-Change, Altogether Irrelevant Ranking of “Yeezus” Tracks:
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New Slaves
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Blood on the Leaves
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Black Skinhead
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Hold My Liquor
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On Sight
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Send It Up
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Bound 2
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I Am A God
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I’m In It
10. Guilt Trip
(3) I am, if you haven’t figured by now, an unabashed Kanye apologist, ready to defend even his most infamous moments. Sure, saying “George Bush doesn’t care about black people” was irresponsible… although, wasn’t that a pretty effective way to grab an idle administration’s attention? Sure, he shouldn’t have put a teenage Taylor Swift in such an awkward position… although, isn’t it cool that Kanye cares so much about the rightful recognition of art, even at lame award shows? Sure, wearing that kilt was a pretty stupid attention grab… okay fine. I won’t try to defend that shit.
-Joe Brislin