Yeezus Took The Wheel: Quick Thoughts

Kanye West's sixth studio album Yeezus came out last Tuesday, and a great deal of people cared about it. Love it or hate it, love him or hate him, Ye exudes serious cultural magnetism (does that mean he fulfilled his own prophecy last week when he proclaimed himself Lord of Culture?).

From what I've gathered, critics are gaga for His Provocativeness while most casual rap fans are frustrated he tossed his stadium/radio-ready musical maximalism on the fire heap of Gehenna. (I'm done with the unnecessary biblical puns, references. Promise.)

A line from what might as well be the title track "I Am A God" nicely frames the album: "I know he the most high/but I am a close high." Yeezus is an open letter to his followers and ivory-towered adversaries: I am music, I am culture, I lead the way - you follow me. In his lyrics and in recent interviews like the NYT one linked to above, Kanye makes it clear that fame does not open every door and it does not pull back every curtain. In fact, he seems to have found that fame, that is, celebrity, is used as a tool of oppression, a hidden blade of racism that the truly powerful old white men brandish in order to keep upstarts like Kanye playing a game they control. Kanye even goes so far as to claim that someone - an unnamed fashion magnate - said to him "I want to control you."

To be fair, I know nothing of the receiving end of racism so he may well have a point. But isn't the true boardroom of elite power roped off just as much from all celebrities? Steve Spielberg was barely able to get the funding for Lincoln, for example. I feel like as an ultra-successful white male the corridors of power should be fully opened for him if Kanye's charge of celebrity as pure-racist tool is correct. I'm more inclined to see celebrity as a smoke screen, a diversification of the truly rich and powerful's (let's call them "bankers" for fun) assets, and a way to keep their subjects in place.

Whatever I think about "celebrity," we should consider Yeezus a response to that anonymous fashion magnate. In every aspect of this album's production we can see Kanye exerting his control usually by way of counter-traditional decision. The release date was withheld, nearly any semblance of promotion was forsaken save for some publicity stunts on SNL and the sides of buildings, which wreak of Kanye's skyscraper-sized personality. Lyrically Kanye pushes his control further than on Dark Fantasy by taking some of his common themes into dark places. It's not just sex, it's rough sex where the man is dominating the woman. It's not just money and fame, it is money and fame being used as a weapon against and by Kanye.

{This is where I should talk about Kanye's disturbing misogyny and other psychosexual issues -- but that's been well covered here.)

And then there's the music. Sonically this might be my favorite of all six solo albums. It's bare, pulsing, and refreshingly new. Samples are cut between so abruptly I felt like I was watching a Darren Aronofsky movie. It's not a stadium album, it is a driving-around-to-let-off-steam album. Overall, it's a risky departure but a necessary one to keep moving forward creatively.

If you're interested in reading more about Yeezus of Chicago (whoops), the single best thing written is by the folks over at Grantland. Check it out. That article is the reason I passed on a more track-based analytical post. They did it best.