Jun 02, 2018
Kanye West has two problems. First, considering his 15 year run of amazing singles, albums, features, production credits, and fashion design, everything he makes is judged by the weight of what came before it. The Kanye West of "Through The Wire," his breakout single, is almost nowhere to found in the cultural zeitgeist Kanye West now emobides. West's other problem is more personal: his celebrity life pushes fans into the challenging posture of having to account for the artist's personal life in addition to often brilliant artwork.
In 2009 when West interrupted Taylor Swift he fell out of the spotlight only to return from with his masterpiece album My Beautiful Dark & Twisted Fantasy. 2010 & 2011 Kanye West, ready to tour Watch The Throne (a collaboration that was clearly his to control), was king again. This was a Kanye of spectacle, opulence, and majesty.
That’s two cycles West repeats with the release of his eighth album ye. It mirrors the pastiche of genre and spectacle that was The Life of Pablo's fashion shows, the laptop in Madison Square Garden, the endless tinkering of the TIDAL release that echoed the G.O.O.D. Friday singles leading up to MBDTF and then followed by the surprising abstract, minimal and brief Yeezus. That’s the obvious comparison between the two works: limited spectacle surrounding the release itself, the short play time (23 minutes), the sub-ten tracklist, sparse features, the way the work dramatically resists living in the shadow of its predecessor.
Unfortunately for ye and for West, there is another, much larger shadow the work must outshine. Earlier in 2018 West returned to Twitter, using the social media space as a sounding board to discuss politics, mental health, and at one point compose his philosophy book. Regardless of where your perspectives on American politics lie, you can tell West’s aligned himself with some divisive folks and some even more divisive ideologies. For example, when West raps about his TMZ interview where he alleges that slavery was a choice, it seems brash in only a way West can be that he would rap about that ridiculous claim on his album.
The key here is that Kanye raps on this album. All of ye was produced by West in his Wyoming retreat and the confounding result is a tightly focused and excellent 7 tracks from a public persona who is anything but tightly focused and entirely confounding. Politically, it seems difficult to separate West the artist from West’s persona.
Regardless, the album is excellent. It echoes the soul-chop production that first got West noticed by Jay Z and Rocafella Records during his come up. “No Mistakes” brings both a hook and a sample worthy of Late Registration. “All Mine” brings invective lyrics and a thumping bass riff that reimagines “Jesus Walks” if it were written during the Yeezus era. “Ghost Town” sonically is the closest to Pablo, boasting production from Francis & the Lights and a Kid Cudi feature teasing the forthcoming Kids See Ghosts. West’s wit lives in these songs, be that lines like “I love your titties ‘cause they prove I can focus on two things at once” or “Just imagine if they caught me on a crazy day”; West’s lightning-rod ethos dares reaction from lines that allude to the MAGA hat or bars like “Russell Simmons wanna pray for me too / I’ma pray for him ‘cause got #MeToo’d”. Musically, these songs are excellent despite the socio-cultural challenge they may present to listeners.
Perhaps the most essential moment of ye is its opening track, “I Thought About Killing You I Thought About Killing Myself” which echoes Jay Z’s “Kill Jay Z” from his equally confessional 4:44. “That’s my bipolar shit / that’s my superpower … ain’t no disability / I’m a superhero!” he yells, drawing attention to the album art which reads “I hate being Bi-Polar, its awesome” scrawled over a photo of rural Wyoming.
There seems to be a genuine attempt in ye to speak candidly, the way West’s social media and pop culture persona begs to be, albeit in ways that push boundaries of the First Amendment. If we take West at his word that he is struggling with these issues, and ye is a product of that struggle – and not a product of West’s most egregious cultural presence – ye is a masterpiece.
After nearly a dozen listens (I’m telling you, this thing is short) you almost forget the artist who made the art, which is an absurd premise because West is so deeply mythologized in this work. The context around the album is complicated, but so is the music. Perhaps this is a strength of the album. I’d say only time will tell, but I’m sure West will find some way to assert himself in the hours following his excellent eighth album’s release in the strange times West raps in.
Image: Tidal