Much like its title, Kanye West’s new album is descriptive, emotional and, of course, all about him. Still, his supposed weakness — persistent, painful self-awareness — actually makes this record one of the best of the year (though, sadly, probably not the best of all time. OF ALL TIME.).
It’s true that a lot of what ‘Ye says can be reduced to “sex” and “me,” as is the id-driven norm of many rappers, but he attacks it with passion and a strange sort of naivete.
He does what moves him, says what he thinks, and for the life of him, cannot understand why people don’t get that. Channeling this frustration, he’s made My Beautiful Dark Twisted Fantasy into a unique mix of neuroticism and eroticism, well-deserving of the high accolades it has already received.
Exquisitely arranged, “Dark Fantasy” lulls you into his vision with a dreamy and almost operatic hook. Following an awkward and ill-fitting introduction by Young Money’s Nicki Minaj, Kanye arrives to drop lines over a polished RZA beat.
Mr. West, while clearly well-versed (in more ways than one), has never been as genius with flow as he is with production. Regardless, right from the start he’s clearly gunning for both his detractors and himself with a verbal ferocity we’ve only seen glimpses of before. He admirably manages to structure an entire verse around the word “murcielago,” and works in cameos by his two loves, Amber Rose and Autotune.
Kid Cudi’s distinctive and naturally autotune-like voice augments the austerity of “Gorgeous.” A guitar-driven jam — the most laid-back track in the lineup — its lyrics careen with abandon from subject to subject. Topics include the exploitation of American Apparel models, politics, fish sticks and Kanye himself being amazing.
Speaking of egoism, many of us have heard several versions of “Power” already, kudos to G.O.O.D Friday releases on Mr. West’s web site and various leaks. Some critics feel he overexposed himself by including so many older songs on the final album cut. However, seeing how it all goes together turns out to be pretty intriguing.
Maybe Yeezy was influenced by interning in the fashion industry, such does this bombastic album resemble a couture collection. Interestingly, “Power” is also a theme and variations all by itself. It explores a lot of unique sounds in quick little vignettes, and the end result is unquestionably a banger.
“All of the Lights” opens with a chorus from Rihanna (Miss Musical Whack-A-Mole 2010) softening the quivering, shuddering beat. You can’t tell there are as many guests as there really are (the credits read like hip-hop’s answer to “We are the World”), which is a credit to Mr. West’s skill as a producer. To take a mob of talents and somehow conduct them into something that not only has a point of view but has your point of view is no easy feat.
Nicki Minaj is a commodity these days, and for good reason, but her appearance here is pretty blah and she fairs far better on “Monster.”
“So Appalled” has a nice bleak, mechanical sound to it. MC Hammer is apparently offended by this song because Jay-Z implies that he’s a has-been (which he is).
The rest of us are instead offended by the RZA’s nail-on-chalkboard, angry stray cat, dying wildebeest version of the chorus. It’s unnerving enough to almost derail the entire song, but Alicia Keys and Kanye hold it together. “Devil in a New Dress” sounds like what would happen if Martians discovered Motown; I’m really into it but there’s not much that sets it apart.
Ah, and then we get to “Runaway.” Building off a singular piano note, to a fractured and somewhat obsessive effect, it’s impossible not to love the long version. ‘Ye follows Pusha-T’s passable verse by absolutely destroying him in terms of emotional depth. For the Swift fans: this song is not actually about Tay-Tay, so just hush.
“Hell of a Life” lurches to life with Kanye marrying a porn star in a bathroom. Needless to say, this along with the military-esque chant and complex beat makes for an amazing song.
On the tail end of the album we find “Blame Game.” It is a beauty, plain and simple. Singing duties are wisely left to John Legend as the song near rips itself to schizoid little shreds over a failed relationship. It’s a superlative piece of art, with an honesty that’s shocking even from the ever blunt Kanye. It’s hard to tell if this album is getting perfect reviews because it’s truly amazing, or just because we love us a good comeback.
In the 30-minute “Runaway” film, Kanye even envisions his creative nature as a phoenix. But isn’t that trope a little played out? I strongly suspect we’re so desensitized to celebrities’ failing and redeeming themselves that album stands solidly on its beauty and the power of its words.
And Kanye is powerful. Anyone famous and controversial enough to get rises out of George Bush and Matt Lauer is.
But his power isn’t in the capacity of being ‘soldier of culture’ and it isn’t in attracting the public scrutiny he hates so much. It’s in his ability to impact what music is and what it will be.
A lot of artists in years to come will list this album among their influences. When asked how they got where they are they’ll say one thing: “Yeezy taught me.”
