My Story of Kanye West’s Steps Toward Irrelevance

Okay, so it didn’t take me so long.

When he dropped "The College Dropout" in 2003, I honestly felt like fresh air was being breathed in to mainstream hip-hop.  Kanye had a great story–underestimated, creative, worked with the God MC Jay-Hovah himself, near-fatal accident, new motivation.  It was all there.  His lyrics were sincere and presented a new honesty to hip-hop’s fanbase that we hadn’t heard as directly before.  Sonically, it blew far and away all the ATL crunk and NYC G-Unit garbage that was jamming the airwaves at the time, so that made for multiple hit singles, huge sales, and a fast-track to stardom.  Even from the beginning of his fame, Kanye recognized his own narcissitic demons and was quick to acknowledge their potential for damage.  He pre-emptively went out of his way to defend himself against any potential claims that he was arrogant, and stated that his confidence was a mere by-product of his passion for making the entire musical world more creative and inspired.  "Dropout" has always been an album I have referenced as doing exactly what I feel to be hip-hop’s best: it makes you want to sing, rap, change the world, love yourself, think freely, and dance wildly all at once.

When Kanye’s stardom began to blow up (pretty much immediately, with the support of Jay-Z and Roc-A-Fela records), you couldn’t get away from the guy.  Everyone wanted to hear the work of this genius that had been thus far hidden–Alicia Keys’ hits were bigger, John Legend got some airplay, even Brandy and Dilated Peoples made it back in to the rotation simply because Kanye West produced their songs.  Even awful songs like "Selfish" by the semi-reunited Slum Village made it big, accompanied by a shameful video that shows them dancing like minstrels in plaid pants and bright sweaters & blazers.  Kanye was the biggest name around.  Of course, everyone wanted a piece of him, while at the same time everyone wanted him to put out another album to follow his classic.  So in 2005, at the height of his fame, he released his first single, "Diamonds from Sierra Leone."  The mainstream media (as Kanye intended) feel deeper in love with him, seeing him as a conscious and philanthropic artist who concerns himself with the welfare of African children (the other biggest faux-trend of the 21st century) over his desire to "shine" like all the other popular rap artists at the time.  He released a subsequent video that featured slightly unsettling (but ultimately gratuitous) images that were intended to mildly convict diamond-shoppers regarding the ethical nature of their purchases (nevermind the ethical nature of worshipping status symbols), but also subtly juxtaposed Kanye himself talking himself up.  The lyrical nature of the song provides neither education about the diamond industry in Sierra Leone, nor does it demand any sense of higher conviction (oddly similar characteristics of the movie "Blood Diamond"…).  Kanye himself tells you: "When I speak about diamonds in the song/I ain’t talkin’ ’bout the ones that be glowin’/I’m talkin’ ’bout Roc-A-Fela, my home".  He throws in things to trick you, like: "Little is known of Sierra Leone/Or how it connects to the diamonds we own….over here it’s a drug trade, we die from drugs/over there, they die from what we buy from drugs" and "I thought my Jesus piece was so harmless/till I saw a picture of a shorty armless."  If he is so conscious and philathropic, why will he in the same song name-drop Yves St. Laurent, Hennessy, and Louis Vuitton?  The questions for Kanye were building for me when "Late Registration" released, and I refused to purchase it.  I even avoided listening to it for months after it came out.  When I finally heard it, I hated it.  "Gold Digger" (which Kanye called "a gimme Grammy") was no better than whatever garbage 50 Cent or Lil Jon was putting out at the time.  On Curtis Mayfield’s behalf, I could have killed Kanye for "Touch the Sky."  Paul Wall on "Drive Slow" was the worst idea Kanye ever had.  It was especially transparent when Kanye started rapping with a drawl to match with Paul Wall’s.  If you have to change your style to match with Paul Wall, you know you are entering seedy territory.  The only redeeming factor to "Late Registration" was Jon Brion, who I feel forced Kanye to relax, enjoy the music, and not drive himself crazy with trying to be perfect.  Brion came in and did with piano loops and muffled snares whan Kanye in a million years never could have done on his own.  Sonically, "Registration" was very interesting.  Not genius, but interesting.  After the first listens, I warmed up to the album, but still found Kanye to be less sincere and much more caught up in his image and marketing schemes (branding himself) than making a positive difference in the hip-hop world.  The shit hit the fan when he posed on the cover of Rolling Stone wearing a crown of thorns with the caption "The Passion of Kanye West." 

It was over for me then.

So despite all of Kanye’s side projects (decent work with Mos Def, Dave Chappelle, a certain Hurricane Katrina benefit appearance, a brilliant album of Common’s called "Be"), he kept up with his album-every-two-years pace and dropped "Graduation" on us on September 11th.  His lead single "Can’t Tell Me Nothin’" gave me hope for an introspective, genuine album.  He acknowledges his mistakes and letting his demons get the best of him, and how his stubbornness has isolated him.  But then he dropped "Stronger," which, in my opinion, is a total piece of garbage.  Sonically, if it aint broke, don’t fix it.  Daft Punk did it right the first time and there was nothing Kanye could do to improve it.  So he just simplified it and rapped over it.  Boring.  Besides that, his lyrics were so vapid and juvenile that they angered me: "Now we gon’ do everything that Kan’ like/I hear you’ll do anything for a Klondike/Well, I’ll do anything for a blonde dike/and she’ll do anything for the lime light."  Just total crap.  The video was just more blatant self-adoration, and even though I prefer to disregard videos and let the music speak for itself, it fit perfectly.
So I was filled with mixed speculations when the release was coming up, and didn’t know what to expect.  I had high hopes but low expectations.  I got up early, walked down to the music store, and picked it up before work so I could listen to it before my shift.  I was disappointed to see that there were only 13 tracks (about half of "Dropout" and "Registration"), and that his main guests included T-Pain and Lil’ Wayne.  He also had Dwele and Mos Def, but Mos was on a song called "Drunk and Hot Girls," and my hatred for Kanye’s success was seeping back in.
The first tracks, "Good Morning," and "Champion," are smooth and lyrically somewhat clever, but ultimately filled with shallow machismo and narcissicm.  "Stronger" came on and I acknowledged it’s catchiness, but despised it for the same reason.  T-Pain’s song came next, "The Good Life;" which, about 15 seconds in I guessed to be the next single (whaddaya know, when I got home I saw the video playing for it on TV)–it had all the makings: tacky hook sung by no-talent crooner, raps about jewelry, cars, and the illusion of power, and a big name on the label to legitimize it.  It is clown music.
Believe it or not, the album actually went downhill from there.  The song with Lil’ Wayne ("Barry Bonds") is a complete waste of time for both artists and anyone listening.  Mos Def was next, and as my personal favorite MC, I hoped "Drunk and Hot Girls" was going to be satirical or at least ironic in some way–and if it was, I haven’t caught it yet.  Kanye lazily raps the chorus "We go through so much bullshit just to mess with these drunk and hot girls," and Mos only comes in to lackadaisically sing to try to save the record at the end, but alas, it is too little too late.  The song is demeaning, full of bullshit bravado, and a complete waste of time.  From there Kanye (predictably) tries to appear more introspective near the end of his album with "Everything I Am" (which might be the best song on the album….too bad it’s also the shortest and probably easiest to miss), "Flashing Lights" with Timbaland-esque synth backing (just missing the kick drum), "The Glory" (maybe one of the more honest efforts), and "Homecoming."  "Homecoming" features Chris Martin from Coldplay with a piano loop and sung chorus that don’t stand out, and I actually didn’t even know was him until I read the liner notes.  It’s that anti-climactic.  Still, through all these supposedly "introspective" songs, Kanye laments over tarnished reputation more than tarnished world, defends himself against potentially negative speculation rather than defending his community against politics, and far-and-away shows that he is overwhelmingly consumed with who he is perceived to be rather than who he actually is.  It really sounds like he doesn’t know anymore, either.
The album ends with "Big Brother," a tribute to Jay-Z.  This surprised me, because my perception has always been that Jay-Z has distanced himself from Kanye once Kanye blew up.  Jay doesn’t do many public appearances, and since he signed with Def Jam, even with his comeback, he hasn’t shown Kanye much love publicly.  As I recall, Kanye didn’t even produce on "Kingdom Come."  Anyway, Kanye’s song is most likely a follow-up to "Dear Mama," but it isn’t nearly as heartfelt, and didn’t even appear as sincere.  Furthermore, it means little to me, a fan, if an artist writes an entire song to another artist.  People will be caught up in the sentimentality (we always do, don’t we?) for a short while before they realize that ingenuine sentiments are empty.  The song is useless and is a disappointing way to end a disappointing album.

Kanye West is going through what (in our era) Sean Combs, Fred Durst, Marshall Mathers, and Curtis Jackson have gone through.  He has become too popular a brand to withstand scrutiny, and it is driving him to take thoughtless steps away from creativity and toward senselessness.  For Sean Combs, it was changing his public name to P.Diddy.  For Fred Durst, it was being ruthlessly ridiculed by the backlash of former fans realizing that Limp Bizkit was absolute garbage.  For Marshall Mathers it was releasing "Encore," in which you can hear that he had completely given up and was just going to do whatever stupid crap fans would pay him to do, instead of anything creative.  For Curtis Jackson, it was (sadly) only his second album "The Massacre" that was his first step toward irrelevance.  "Graduation" is to Kanye what those examples were to those artists.  The first hearty step toward irrelevance.

Now, to be fair, many artists have their own stories to tell, that end (as of now) with redemption.  Common’s "Electric Circus" was a horribly failed experiment.  Jay-Z’s "Volume 3" was an awful album (still won the Grammy….for the same reason that Denzel Washington won his Oscar for "Training Day"), but he is still the best to ever do it.  Snoop Dogg has put out half a dozen bargain-bin albums and has made his way back.  So not all hope it lost for Kanye.  He threw a temper tantrum for not winning any MTV awards, but I think that is just the start.  He will not receive any awards for "Graduation," and he will endure much criticism both for his work and his personality in the coming year-two years.  Hip-hop will still love him but will demand that he grow up to earn respect back.  Kanye may disappear for a while.  Who knows how long for sure, but what we do know is that unless he returns with music and lyrics that are both inspired & inspiring, he may just continue down that path of irrelevance.

"Graduation" is that first hearty step.  Don’t believe me?  Go hear the album and then let’s argue.
You’ll hear that Kanye West–for the first time, definitively–needs hip-hop so much more than hip-hop needs Kanye West.  And for Kanye, that’s the sad truth.

-HVC