Of course I have all sorts of opinions about the new Kanye album! I’m his biggest fan! And naturally, you have been dying to find out what I think, never imagining that I would be embarrassingly long-winded! Well, having listened to My Beautiful Dark Twisted Fantasy approximately a million times already, I can say this: it is really good. I do have more thoughts about the album, Kanye’s public persona, the media reaction to the album, etc., but really it comes down to that. If you want the long version, though, I’ve decided to go through it track-by-track, like I did with Drake, so that I can painfully over-analyze every lyric and production decision. So, with no further ado:
“Dark Fantasy”
I just moved to Chicago, and, if for no other reason, it was the right decision because now I can identify with the first line of this song and feel kind of sweet. If all my wildest aspirations come true and I someday have a salaried job, I’ll identify with the lines about the Lamborghinis too, but the part where the beat drops out and Kanye starts rapping is always going to go down as a moment that makes me very happy.
The first line of the song is also great, though, because it kind of serves as a mission statement for the album. Namechecking Chicago despite the fact that he apparently splits his time between Hawaii, New York, and five or ten major world cities feels like Kanye both acknowledging his background and almost reeling with excitement at how far he’s come from it. This album, and Kanye’s whole artistic narrative leading up to it, works the same way: it’s him acknowledging and paying homage to hip-hop history (see the Wu-Tang geekfest that is the remix of Justin Bieber’s “Runaway Love”) while re-interpreting it at as big-budget 21st century pop, or, more personally, him taking his own pedigree as a defining producer of the last decade and filtering it through the fame, money, attention, and, yes, ego, of his status in 2010. “I fantasized about this back in Chicago” is going to be kind of mission statement for the rest of this album, so it’s a good thing it’s arresting.
In the interest of belaboring this point, I think it’s also worth pointing out the way the sample here works. The “Can we get much higher?” is a sample from a really cheesy prog rock song (at :43), but it sounds like a gospel or soul sample — which, in turn, and in classic Kanye fashion, is re-appropriated as a backing track for a triumphant, hedonistic rap. Once again, it’s an homage to classic hip-hop and classic Kanye while, at the same time, signaling a departure from both into a new sonic palette and thematic setting. Other indicators of this trend that could be discussed are Nicki Minaj’s British-accented intro, lyrics with streaks of vaguely apologetic materialism, groan-worthy punchlines (“Sex is on fire/I’m the king of leon/-a lewis,” and laments about education (no shots, I like the lyrics).
And then there are the processed vocals at the end, where Kanye is no longer giving DJs in Chicago a hard time about their playlist, but is instead going on massive shopping sprees, doing drugs, and mingling with aristocrats in Paris. Look, if form ever equaled content, here it is saying: welcome to My Beautiful Dark Twisted Fantasy.
“Gorgeous”
The discussion around this album hasn’t included very much about race, which is surprising because it’s a clearly a major focus for Kanye right now (although unsurprising because when have Americans ever wanted to talk about race?). If you actually listen to him, the VMAs made an impact on him as much because people felt it reflected poorly on the wider black entertainment community as it did because of whatever it said about his personal ego. The early G.O.O.D. Friday release “See Me Now” and, in some aspects, the whole Rosewood thing over the summer, were very much about the idea of building a culture of “black excellence.” Kanye has never exactly shied away from race (“I’m like a fly Malcolm X/Buy any jeans necessary,” “George Bush doesn’t care about black people”), but it’s notable — to me, at least — that he has become more vocal about race as he’s become more famous rather than choosing to minimize it and be the Black Eyed Peas (which I think he did to some degree between, say, 2007 and this year).
This song is obviously the song on the album that brings race the most to the forefront, and, in a curious way, since it sounds nothing like old Kanye production, makes the most direct link to the tradition of socially conscious rap that was a big part of early Kanye. This is part of what makes Kanye such an interesting and important artist right now: if B.O.B. had a song that claimed that he “treat[s] the cash the way the government treats AIDS,” he “won’t be satisfied till all my n***** get it/get it?” it would definitely get cut from the album, but Kanye can say that and, more importantly, he hasn’t lost the interest in saying it (not that plenty of major label releases aren’t equally provocative, but plenty aren’t as well). When he did this song live last week, Kanye rapped the part about “what’s a black beetle anyway — a fucking roach?” twice, the second time a cappella. For all the talk about Kanye’s bluster, people do tend to ignore the parts he’s really trying to get across, and he is trying to get something across (hint: it’s about being black).
Personally, I really like these lyrics: “I need a happy ending/and a new beginning/and a new fitted/and some job opportunities that’s lucrative/this the real world/homie, school finished/they done stole your dreams/you don’t know who did it.” Just, I like them.
One piece of criticism I read said that it seemed like all the features on the album were caricatures of the guests that served more as trophies of Kanye’s good taste, and that’s kind of true in that I think all the guests bring verses that are consistent with their best work. Rae’s verse here took me a while to parse because it did just seem like a regular Raekwon verse, but the last few lines tie it together with the rest of the song, so listen carefully. This verse makes the song great. Also, the guitars during Raekwon’s verse are sweet. Sorry Rae, but your verse reminds me of 8 Diagrams in the best possible way.
“Power”
This song has been out for a while, but it holds up, which is a good indication for the rest of the album. Supposedly it took 5,000 man hours to write it, which gives you a sense of how exacting and precise this album is. Obviously, most artists don’t have the resources to put this much work into an album, but most artists probably also wouldn’t be as obsessive if they did. Even if you don’t like Kanye (What’s wrong with you? Also, why are you still reading this?), hopefully you can recognize how well-made these songs are. Every little detail has obviously been agonized over, and, in the end, it is great art simply because, in addition to all its other levels, it is always focused and never gratuitous (compare this to pretty but mostly insubstantial work of Runaway). In particular, and this song was basically the announcement of this when it came out earlier this year, Kanye’s production is much more percussive than it used to be, a decision that perfectly fits the brash, baroque minimalism he has decided makes something “art.” Note the way the King Crimson sample punctuates this track, the pump-up effect of the handclaps, the first stab of the bass guitar, the jagged interruption of the MPC sample on the hook, and the huge kettle drums (not enough has been made of the influence of the 808s and Heartbreak phase — those drums on “Love Lockdown,” for instance — on the percussion of this album). As a point of comparison, try listening to the similarly heavily tracked and percussive “Jesus Walks,” and note how much crisper this sounds. This song is badass.
A quick note about Kanye’s ego here: the line “I know damn well y’all feelin’ this shit” is a good encapsulation of his philosophy. People make such a big deal about his ego that they maybe don’t give Kanye a chance artistically, which further contributes to him feeling underappreciated and making statements about how great he is. I don’t mean to get all New Historicist up in here, but if you can separate Kanye’s narrative from his music just a little (and you can’t entirely — that’s the point), you will probably realize that you are “damn well…feelin’ this shit.”
By the way, though, does Kanye refer to Colin Powell as Colin Powers?
“All of the Lights (Interlude)”
These strings are pretty, I guess. They make a nice interlude. Also, a good reminder of the fact that this is “art.”
“All of the Lights”
I was expecting something a little different when I saw the guest list for this song, but I’m okay with the fact that basically you can just hear Rihanna, Kid Cudi, Fergie, and some amalgam of male vocals. This song is Kanye’s biggest moment of pop excess on the album, maybe ever, so it’s bizarre on the surface that it turns out to be a song about domestic violence and child visitation rights. But this is also exactly what makes Kanye a more interesting pop star than, say, Lady Gaga. Instead of making a “Bad Romance” and indulging in being larger-than-life (to be fair, he flirted with this in his other moments of pop excess, “Good Life” and “Stronger”), Kanye is willfully difficult and petty. He’s rapping as a character here (right? Is there a Kanye baby-mama narrative I don’t know?), which is unusual for him, but he’s stating, implicitly and explicitly, that being a fan of Kanye’s pop is about accepting his well-publicized flaws in addition to his impeccable songwriting. Kanye’s obsession with his flawed character is not new; it is what has always made him fascinating. He is a pop star to whom we can relate because we see our own stupid dramas play out with him, and this song, with its story about public visitation at Borders, is basically asking us to do that. Fortunately, Americans love morally ambiguous heroes. So anyway, marching band excess, an inflated guest list (this is a good example of his guests being trophies, you could say), public soul-searching, and an open invocation of Michael Jackson: this is Kanye’s pop star grab, but he wants to make sure that you do not forget about the “ghetto university” side of him. Even if you’re cynical about it, this is, at the very least, smart branding. Or some attempt at honesty. It really depends on how you interpret Kanye’s public persona. All I know is that I think the line “her mother brother grandmother hate me in that order” is brilliantly trenchant. Oh, also, it’s kind of weird that Rihanna sings the hook on a song about domestic violence, but that’s been pointed out already, right?
“Monster”
Ahh, Kanye can rap! And, of course, Nicki Minaj steals the show. If you’ve lost faith in hip-hop, I would listen to that verse a few times because Nicki switches flows literally like ten times, and the four most arresting bars of the verse don’t even rhyme! This is what you could consider technical evolution in the art of rapping. I love the line “That’s what a monster do/ Hairdresser from Milan, that’s a monster ‘do.” The beat is great, obviously, and I always am in favor of Bon Iver and Kanye collaborating because For Emma, Forever Ago is up there with College Dropout in terms of albums I love. I hope they tour together! If you haven’t already, I highly recommend reading his interview about working on this album.
Posse cut of the year, duh.
“So Appalled”
For some reason, this seems to be the track on the album that most people don’t like. Personally, if I’m not going to listen to the whole album, this is usually the song I put on. After “Power,” “All of the Lights,” and “Monster,” it’s kind of a nice downtempo return to basics, and it has some of the best rapping on the album.
First of all, Kanye’s verse is fantastic, even if he does rhyme videos with videos. “Balding Donald Trump takin’ dollars from y’all?” Come on, that’s probably the best internal rhyme Kanye’s ever used. The line about housekeeping is funny, the Allah/Prada line is inspired, and when he says “that’s why another goddamn dance track gotta hurt” you’re like, yeah, I totally feel you. Form equals content, y’all.
Remember that line on the Drake song where Jay-Z bragged about triple entendres (“don’t even ask me how”) even though it wasn’t a triple entendre? Well, I’m pretty sure he actually raps a triple entendre on his verse here when he says “Not only am I fly/I’m fucking not plain/playin’/plane.” I’m glad that in the same verse where he addresses being overrated he’s able to drop a line like this and prove that there’s some substance to his claims that not only is he way more successful than every other rapper, he is also still better than almost anyone else. The rest of the verse is good, too. It even made MC Hammer make a video about him being the devil.
Have I mentioned how happy I am about Pusha T and Kanye being bros? I love it. The Clipse is one of my favorite rap groups, but now Malice is all Christian and stuff, so it’s up to Pusha to drop lines like “a half a mil in twenties like a billion where I’m from/an arrogant drug dealer the legend I’ve become/CNN said I’ll be dead by 21” or “I speak the gospel/hostile/Tony doing time for what he did to nostrils” (The Clipse’s former manager Tony was arrested for running a multimillion dollar drug ring, if that one wasn’t clear). Seriously, this verse is so good, and it’s maybe not even the best verse on the song. This is the best analysis of it, by the way.
No disrespect to Cyhi da Prince, but he is so far out of his league here that it seems like more of a cruel joke than a co-sign to put him on this track. Not to mention that his verse ruins what is otherwise a dope song. Basically, the problem with Cyhi da Prince is every line of his is some sort of pop culture joke, and they all sound really lame next to everything else on this song, even though they would probably fit perfectly on a some NahRight B-lister’s mixtape. Which, come to think of it, is a pretty good argument for how much better this album is than so much of what has been going on in hip-hop for the last few years.
Fortunately, the RZA yelling all over the end of this track rescues it so it ends on a high note. Contrary to popular belief, the RZA is exactly what this track needed to make it the over-the-top old-school cipher it wanted to be. Also, it’s a nice nod to the influence of the RZA both on this track and on Kanye’s production in general. It’s got a nice ODB feel to it, too.
“Devil in a New Dress”
Here’s a really good example of the way Kanye is both drawing deeply on classic hip-hop and pushing the genre forward (to be fair, the beat is actually from Bink!, but the choice makes oh-so-much sense). The sample here is a total cratedigging geek out moment because it’s like a ten second loop from a not-that-great Smokey Robinson and the Miracles song (starting at 2:07), and I could probably sit around all day listening to that and be happy, but the way it gives out to the piano, strings, and those distorted guitars between verses works so well you almost think those are part of the sample. Different sonic palettes being incorporated into a unified sound? This is what hip-hop is all about. And then Rick Ross comes in and rumbles all over it and there could not be a more perfect choice of rappers to put a coda on that moment. He literally could say anything, and I would buy it.
This is fortunate because, even though this is some of Ross’s best rapping, it also touches on basically every rap cliche that exists. In order, he brags about: how hot his girl is, how much ice is on his watch, his limo, his choice in champagne, his penis(?), the paint on his car, his success-oriented character, his tuxedo, his shoes, his self-confidence, how far back he goes with real hip-hop, his disregard for the law, the irrelevance of haters, flying in G4s, having lots of guns, selling lots of drugs, ballin’, having a Mercedes, having lots of cars, committing mail fraud (not really a common boast; also, I’m still unclear as to how mail fraud actually works), being a drug kingpin, listening to R&B while smoking weed, shooting people, improving on Tupac’s legacy, still being from the hood, and fearing death. I’m becoming more and more convinced that Rick Ross’s entire persona is some sort of meta commentary on the idea of hip-hop culture.
On the other hand, it fucking kills over this beat. Like, if you were incredibly rich and you had just had an unfavorable relationship experience, I can totally imagine riding around in a Maybach with the lights looking like a music video, sipping rose and listening to this song, which is what I picture Rick Ross doing while he wrote this.
As far as Kanye’s verse goes, it’s good, but two things stand out. First, “hard to be humble when you’re stuntin’ on a jumbotron” is another decent stab at explaining his ego. Second, what is Kanye’s preoccupation with Ma$e getting punched? This is the second time he’s rapped about that as a cautionary tale, and we’re talking about a minor piece of rap news that happened eleven years ago. On the other hand, it’s a nice little invocation of hip-hop history, and, also, Ma$e seems like a figure who would preoccupy Kanye: someone who was apparently poised for success but didn’t succeed. In our minds, Kanye is past that point, but, considering his ambitions, he probably will see it as failure if he doesn’t become the most famous pop star of all time, and so he sees Ma$e as a cautionary tale in more ways than one. That’s my theory, anyway.
“Runaway”
Forget the VMAs. Forget the film Runaway. Forget anything you have ever thought about Kanye being an asshole. Now, listen to those initial notes on the piano. Pay attention to how simple this track is. There is a bass line, a drum machine, and those MPC samples. And then there is Kanye’s own imperfect singing contrasting against all that electronic precision. Toast to the douchebags! Toast to the assholes! I don’t know what it is with females, but I’m not too good at that shit! Perfection and imperfection! Pusha T, one of the most technically precise rappers there is, and Kanye’s own carefully controlled chaos as the track disintegrates into him moaning into a vocoder! This song is the highlight of the album and, in my mind, the highlight of the year. This song is Kanye reclaiming the celebrity narrative, sure, but it is also him setting his own tone for pop music: a sort of maximalist minimalism, sing-a-long pop given the art-film treatment, personal idiosyncrasies buried under layers of electronic distortion. I mean, damn, and those strings make you want to cry. This song is everything Kanye represents, arrogance and excess withering under deeper, self-critical insecurities. I love this song. I loved the original version, too, but the nine minute version is even better.
Incorporating the MPC was a good choice, and the outro is what really makes the song amazing. The only change I disagree with was changing “girl” to “bitch” in the first line. I mean, I understand Kanye wanting to be extra objectionable in this context, but it actually sounds worse, too. Bitch and dick are cacophonous together (yes, I enjoyed writing that sentence)! Pusha T’s verse is great. I also have never seen a Versace sofa, though, so I fall hard for his persuasive speech. But, what it really comes down to is when Kanye chokes out the line “and I don’t know how I’ma manage/If one day you just up and leave.” Yup, this song is amazing.
“Hell of a Life”
Aw, shit, this beat is so heavy. It samples Black Sabbath. And then it’s got those wood blocks on the hook. Yeah, this song is nasty.
Let me reiterate how good of a rapper Kanye has become. His flow here is crazy, he’s concise, he’s witty without being corny, and he has the charisma to play with structure a little bit. The part at the end of the second verse when he just goes “bang bang bang bang” sounds absolutely great, and it’s the kind of thing I don’t think Kanye would have had the confidence to do until very recently. This is rapping that is both loose and very technical, which is difficult to do (Lil’ Wayne and Jay-Z both do this very well, which is what makes them so good). Obviously, thematically, this is the song that pushes the album the most towards a Dark Twisted Fantasy, and it could never be a single, so consider it an exemplary album cut, the kind of song that you never think about being on an album but makes the album great to listen to front-to-back. And of course, it is very dark. Coming between “Runaway” and “Blame Game,” it lends both of those songs a sort of desperate bleakness that makes them hit that much harder. If 808s and Heartbreak was an album about raw grief, My Beautiful Dark Twisted Fantasy is an album about some later stage grief that becomes a sort of existential confusion, and this song is kind of a hedonistic denial right before everything goes south in “Blame Game.”
“Blame Game”
And, damn. This song. If you look at the album’s sequencing, there’s a really great progression of Kanye losing control over the image he’s projecting, or giving way to his subconscious: from the assured, outraged stance in the opening tracks to a sort of nervous, self-doubting swagger in the middle, to a sort of resigned individualism and finally a dream-like disintegration that starts with the outro to “Runaway.” This song, with the lurching drums, the delicate piano, and the heavily pitch-shifted vocals, is what makes all of that come into focus. It’s easy to look at this song and just take it as Kanye being lonely and unhappy in spite of all his fame, but it’s way more interesting than that because it’s about Kanye getting petty and emotional and unhinged. He’s calling this girl’s brother to get in touch with her because she won’t answer! That’s crazy! The brother takes his money to buy coke! This is Kanye’s ego brushing up against its limits and losing it. The part at the end where he calls his ex’s phone and it dials him back and he hears “the whole thing” is crushing. It’s the album’s absolute low point, and it’s a big key to understanding the rest of the album: when Kanye finally sets aside all the bluster and attempts to impress and please, he’s just a disappointed little guy. And of course, to hide all that, there is all the bluster and attempts to impress and please. The fragile singing at the end of the song is his attempt to make all of this clear, and, in my mind, it works. If the album ended right there, it would be pretty depressing.
So, at iO, one of the things you hear is that the definition of comedy is a release in tension, and that’s what the Chris Rock skit is doing here. Kanye’s album skits are notoriously dumb, but this one actually feels like a pretty natural extension of the song, and I don’t find myself always skipping it. It’s Kanye at his most annoyingly arrogant and kind of offensive, but it’s also kind of funny. The line about the watch Twista wore in The Source is the highlight. Also, by the end of it, you don’t feel like drowning yourself anymore, and you’re ready for the final track.
Oh yeah, shout out to John Legend. Also, no disrespect to Khloe Mitchell, but the little spoken word part in the middle doesn’t really make sense (“lack of visual empathy equates the meaning of L-O-V-E.” Huh?). Whatever, though, it sounds cool, and Kanye’s earned it.
“Lost in the World”
As I’ve mentioned on many other occasions, I love Bon Iver, and I love the song “Woods,” and I love the Volcano Choir song “Still” that uses it, and I said from the beginning that it reminded me of Kanye, and I am really glad it gets sampled here. It sounds sweet, and it makes perfect sense in the context of the rest of the album. And also, Kanye takes it and pushes it to its logical conclusion: a sort of redemptive, life-has-changed-but-fuck-it-let’s-make-lemonade anthem, and that makes me happy on so many levels. It makes such an appropriate ending for the album, too; it takes this dark, moody thing and turns it into a piece of classic pop. This song is huge. And it gives another key to understanding the album: Kanye’s final rapped line is “still get laid, yeah,” which is a reassuring reminder that no matter how artistic and moody and high concept Kanye gets, his ultimate interests are often pretty straightforward. Those words are like an art-pop manifesto. Also, the Gil Scott-Heron sample is used very well here. Congratulations are in order.
“Who Will Survive In America”
This track ties the album together surprisingly well. The return of the sample from “Power,” the re-emergence of the political, the vague “this is art” statement of ending with a spoken word sample, the acknowledgement of Kanye’s personal history (he’s sampled a lot of Gil Scott-Heron), and, of course, the fact that the album ends with applause. Perfect. We get all our major reference points. But it’s also a great choice because ultimately it highlights the sort of existential confusion I mentioned earlier. In conclusion, all Kanye wants is a good house and some children. Maybe this album got a 10.0 from Pitchfork because it has the same theme as that Animal Collective song.
Final Thoughts
How could I have anything else to say? I mean, I could, but let’s not be ridiculous. When it comes down to it, there are a few main things that stand out about this album: it is almost perfectly realized pop music, technically accomplished to an almost unrivaled degree; it is big budget in the best way; it is both an affirmation of and a departure from classic hip-hop, and both are tastefully realized ambitions; it is fun and impressive to listen to, but harder to relate to because it is kind of dark, and its concerns are often those of a multimillionaire; it is the best lens for understanding Kanye right now, which we all want to do because he is a major media figure; in these veins, it is pretty self-indulgent; but, when did Kanye’s self-indulgence ever keep us from enjoying his music?
