I don’t want to listen to the new Kanye West
album. I don’t want to do anything Kanye West ever.
This is not a decision I made consciously. It
just happened, and it’s been nice.
I can trace my post-Kanye life to sometime around 2007, when Graduation came out. People said it
was good and I bought it, like gave some actual money’s amount of my money for
it. I think it was even on a CD which to me now is like “ew.” Not only was it
not good, it was so not good, subjectively, it changed the way I thought about
music. Some deep inner switch flipped and from around then on it was fuck
Kanye, fuck Pitchfork as a source of information about what is good and what is
not, fuck the CD format, fuck paying for music based on what other people say
rather than what I hear with my own ears, fuck bigtime radio airwaves music,
and especially fuck anybody who discusses it in a scholarly fashion like it
should be important.
If you’re not familiar, Graduation was the “brave move forward” for Kanye that catapulted
him, like the stupid cartoon bear on the cover, from a good rapper and great
producer of beats into a pop phenomenon not bound by any genre other than, you
know, shitty. I hated it. I hate it now. I hate talking about it. Why? There’s
no point. He did it. He’s gotten famous enough and made enough money for it to be okay for any given individual human not to ever talk
about him ever again. It’s the most sensible reaction to him.
He’s done other things since then, such as
the thing with the talking and celebrity baby things and that double album
where he sampled krautrock. I am dimly aware of his career because you can’t
not be. He’s at the point of saturation where context is provided for you
whether you like it or not. His mom died. Kim Kardashian (she's another one). Knowledge of Kanye West is constantly blasted into
your skull. You can’t avoid it. You can only let it wash over you.
So I was complaining about being burnt out on
writing and Kelly McClure told me I should listen to the new Kanye album, which
is like great, fuck you, Kelly. Not writing is worse than listening to Kanye
West. You win.
1. “On
Sight”
Harsh electric noise. Okay, Kayne. You got
me. I’m interested. How are you going to make this suck? Oh. You are going to
talk about yourself and how great you are at being Kanye West despite the fact
that people don’t like you because you’re Kanye West, but you don’t care
because you’re Kanye West and they’re not Kanye West. Insert a gospel choir,
brag about oral sex. Whatever. Good job, buddy.
2. “Black
Skinhead”
I wonder what this one’s gonna be about. I’m
gonna guess Kanye West. Oh shit, is that a Gary Glitter sample? Did we just
finance a little international child molestation? I just checked and it’s
actually Marilyn Manson, who may or may not have molested children yet. Oh man,
this is great. I’m really into how awful this is. Turns out this song is about
Kanye. Some sort of… no. fuck this. The song’s about Kanye West. What am I
gonna do, listen to it? No I am not.
3. “I
Am A God”
I don’t. I can’t even. I Am A God. That’s the
whole thing with this fucking guy, isn’t it? This song is like being inside of
a panic attack.
4. “New
Slaves”
Making “fuck you” statements about the power
establishment is the one thing Kanye routinely does that I can get behind. “George
Bush does not care about black people.” That kind of a thing. This is his song on
this album that’s like that, and he has to do it because the only compelling
thing about Kanye is he could say anything at any time. Gucci Mane might get a
tattoo of an electric ice cream cone on his face. Kanye might talk about
fucking rich white people’s trophy wives, which would be better if he said something
about giving them AIDS. Not that Kanye has AIDS as far as I know, just, you
know, go all the way with it.
5. “Hold
My Liquor”
I just
looked at Kanye’s Wikipedia page. It says he just turned 36 years old. If you’re
36 and “liquor” is still even a subject of conversation in your life other than
“sometimes I have a nightcap right before bed when my back hurts,” maybe you
should act like a fucking 36 year old and take care of that shit. Don’t tell me
about it. I don’t care. Also: there’s a 90% chance Kanye has contributed to his
own Wikipedia page, and the dead giveaway is when it calls him a “film director
and fashion designer.”
6. “I’m
In It”
This is a sex song. I am a grown up man. I
don’t need to tell anybody about what I do sexually, and I don’t care what
anybody else does sexually. Kanye’s penis has no place in my life.
7. “Blood
On The Leaves”
The title is from a sample of Nina Simone’s
rendition of “Strange Fruit,” which is as close to a sacred text as there is in
music. Kanye says the word “bitches” after 44 seconds of lugubrious faux-profound
intro.
8. “Guilt
Trip”
Now we’re going from a sonic co-opt of dubstep’s
mania into a layered, juttering Animal Collective thing. People talk about
Kanye’s bravery as a producer sometimes, but really all he does is borrow
whatever’s big elsewhere and use it as a framework to rap about himself. This
album is his take on dubstep. I mean, I don’t know. I’m running out of things to say. This
is brutal. I feel like Kanye should be paying ME for this.
9. “Send
It Up”
We have a guest appearance. Right on cue. Who
is this? King L. I can’t keep track. I don’t care. I’m at the point where I’m
turning the music off and just reading other blogs of other people who did
track-by-track reviews of this album. Which is a depressing thing to be also doing. Apparently according
to this
one Kanye refers to his dick as “Yeezus” on this track.
Yeezus is the name of the
album.
I am here and I am listening to Kanye West’s
dick and I am telling you all about it and I want to die. All anybody anywhere
is doing is talking about Kanye West’s dick. Pitchfork
gives Kanye’s dick a 9.5. Time
Magazine calls Kanye’s dick “manic, melancholy, and brilliant.” According
to The
Guardian, Kanye has a four star dick. This is the ultimate Kanye West move.
Get so famous you can trick people into talking in reverent tones about your
nickname for your dick, make a shitload of money from it, maybe later you can even tell
people they’re stupid. Then do a thing and brag about it and then Kanye West
Kanye West.
I am ready for this to be over. This: the
version of life that has this in it, in which Kanye West is alive and music
sounds like this and people are talking about some dude’s dickname album like it’s the same category of thing as an Alexander Calder sculpture.
10. “Bound
2”
Here’s Kanye talking about enjoying how good some
woman looks over a vintage Kanye slow soul sample beat. He pretty much invented
using vocal samples for a beat. Okay, so he can still be what he used to be,
except plus all this other stuff too. Okay. He's a guy. He's a guy who does things for a living. Okay. I'm calm. I can be alive.
At this point I hear the opening strains of “Sunday
Morning” by the Velvet Underground, and I am so excited. Kanye’s going to drop
the mic and ride out on a VU sample.
No. The album is over. I am listening to
something else now and didn't know it. I am loving every second of it. I am going to continue to
do this as much as possible for the rest of my life.
I am not going to listen
to the Kelly McClures of the world, telling me that this thing, Kanye and his
penis and everything ever involving the world that involves anything like this, is a thing. No. I get to
decide. This is not a thing. This is no thing. Nothing. It does not exist.
Goodbye.
