In the past five or so years, I have become the resident Kanye West supporter among family friends. It was a mentality that I was happy to defend. My peak at this position was after his 2013 album, Yeezus, his most controversial to date. I would have to dance around Kanye’s public persona, one that has risen to fame at a similar trajectory as his music. I could always fall back on his music though. Not only is he one of the most defining artists of this generation, he is also one of the best.
When I went off to college, my defense of Kanye eased. I was solely among people of my age group that had also grown up his music. People weren’t actively disagreeing with me about Kanye’s contribution to the musical realm. We all rallied together in valid excitement for his next work. We ran into each other’s dorm rooms to excitedly talk about the new singles, or the Wiz Khalifa twitter rant, or even toss around uninformed opinions about his fashion line.
This was the first Kanye release I was going to be ready for. At 13, I did not yet have the (not to be taken for granted) luxury of instant streaming to My Beautiful Dark Twisted Fantasy, and it was still far from being available at my local library. At 16, I had been convinced of the “old head” mentality and was not yet ready for what Yeezus was, an experimental powerhouse. Now in 2016, with Spotify and the endless hype cycle powered by Twitter, I was ready to be thrilled for what Kanye had next for me.
I may have been a little too ready. Me and my friend bought tickets to Kanye’s season 3 fashion show/The Life of Pablo listening party screening in a theater an hour away. If that seemed like a muddled event title, you’re right, and it accurately captured the event. The album was a mess that took about four months after the initial release for him to put back together. Of course, at the time, I wasn’t aware of this, I was filled with the euphoria of experiencing this new Kanye West album with everyone else. This experience was enhanced by the excitement of the white suburban kids draped in designer streetwear inside the theater.
After a couple weeks, I came down from Kanye’s high and moved on from the album. Not something I had ever done with an album of his before. As I mentioned before, Kanye eventually pieced the album together and cleaned up loose ends. It was clear though, the star was fading, the mind that introduced me to hip hop music with Graduation and influenced many of the artists topping the charts today, was losing its grasp.
I held out hope though, that this was a one-off. He had put out mediocre projects before. Graduation is mostly remembered as his breakout into mainstream stardom (by topping 50 Cent), 808s was more influential than it was great, and Watch the Throne was an example of black excellence on record not an example of ground-breaking music. But he came back after each of those and put out classic albums. Maybe, just maybe, that was what was to come with his next album. Fresh from re-solidifying his production chops on Pusha T’s Daytona, I was ready to be re-enter the church of Yeezus with Ye.
As I sat on my couch with my freshly downloaded WAV radio app, watching a campfire for two hours, my tension rose. Other than Daytona, the previous rollout for the album was worrying at best. His persona was beginning to take main stage again. But glimmers of hope arose, if Push could pull off a seven-song album, Kanye surely could. When 9pm hit, various “influencers” came to the campfire and gathered around for the listening party. In my first listen to the album, I was cautiously optimistic. Easily swayed by the visible joy among the attendees and Kanye himself, I wondered if he had done it, if the genius had returned. It was immediately obvious that his takes on hot-button issues like #MeToo were clumsy at best, but at least the production was there, right? Isn’t that enough?
No. After an objective look at the album, it is hard to call it anything other than a huge disappointment. There is a reason that albums are usually more than seven songs, because it gives artists room for error. At this point in his career, Kanye needs that room. He doesn’t have the focus to give us seven consistently great songs.
He spends half of the album’s opening track, I Thought About Killing You, speaking about his thoughts of taking his own life. This is a good example and thesis for the rest of the album. While interesting, and an eye-opening look into the brain of Kanye West, this isn’t music. He could have just as easily put this on his Twitter feed and made a similar impact. Later in the album, and on the cover, he reveals his diagnosis of bipolar disorder. These are interesting revelations but may have been better suited in an interview than in his album.
If the music was about this battle, if his raps were about this disorder, my reaction might be different. However, he almost never puts together a full, good song. There are pieces that can be picked apart in almost each song. For one, Kanye’s verses are almost never up to par. This has never been his biggest strength, but it is a clear fault on Ye.
In my initial hype for the album, I kept asking myself, what if this album wasn’t by Kanye West? In doing that I started comparing elements to projects by other artists. As I said before, Kanye is not rapping at his best on the album, and many of the vocal highlights of the album come from his collaborators, PARTYNEXTDOOR, Charlie Wilson, and 070 Shake, among others. A week before Ye, ASAP Rocky’s Testing followed a similar formula, with Rocky’s disappointing verses being overshadowed by above average production and strong guest appearances. Testing fell short, often due to Rocky’s flaws. Applying that same criticism to Ye, it fails.
In comparing the album to Kanye’s past successes, he fails again. He has never been a top lyricist or the most focused artist, but those flaws were better masked in past albums. On College Dropout and Late Registration nothing was going to get in the way of Kanye’s dedication to finding success, and his “chipmunk soul” production style was fresh. As was his attitude. While similarly cocky, he was guided by mentors into making great albums. On My Beautiful Dark Twisted Fantasy he was grappling with his own balance of mental health and fame, however it was on a much grander scale. He knew his faults, and while he wasn’t apologizing for it, he was going to use them to make the best music possible. While angry and erratic on Yeezus, he was delivering a clear message. Black Celebrities and specifically rappers were not being taken seriously in the fashion industry. His frustration and self-confidence were displayed in his lyrics and production.
While much of the traits I just described are apparent in Ye, none are crafted with the same focus that they were on previous albums. Maybe this was because of the album rewrites. Maybe this is a new acceptance of his “superpower”. Or maybe, just maybe, Kanye needs someone to tell him no. Maybe having hundreds of people around a campfire blindly vibing to his album isn’t conducive to properly expressing the highs and lows of a mental disability and the resulting suicidal thoughts.
There is no formula to making great music, and maybe the Kid Cudi album will show that Kanye still can make great music with the luxury of time. As you can see, I am falling back into my hope for his musical rebirth. Please help me Kanye. Please help me convince my middle aged neighbors that you are the artistic genius you claim to be and have shown before. I beg, but realistically, with two strikes in the count, it’s probably time for me to go back to old Kanye.
