Kevin Davis wrote:I really like both El-P and Lamar, and think both "Cancer 4 Cure" and "Good Kid..." leave very little to be desired either musically or lyrically, but I would still argue that neither artist displays the same depth of musicality -- specifically, the same ear for melody and harmony -- that Kanye does in his finer moments. El-P has an icy-cold, almost futuristic-sounding musical palette that is very much its own language -- and like a lot of artists that can be described this way, it is its own strength but also its own limitation. Lamar's album does traverse a musical "journey" of sorts, but it's still propelled by the lyrical one -- the barrage of images and actions make the music feel kinetic, more so than I suspect it might had the lyrics been written with a different purpose. Lamar is a storyteller in a way that transcends his genre and sometimes his whole medium; that the album is billed as a "short film" is right on point.
Both of these albums demonstrate supreme senses of musicianship in their own ways. But I think Kanye's instincts are deeper-rooted, and appeal to conventional tenets of theory and harmony that -- like a lot of pop musicians that excel at their craft -- display a masterful understanding of what the ear doesn't know it wants or expects to hear. I remember watching a studio interview with him from shortly after "808's" came out where he described the musical concept behind "Say You Will"; he sounded kind of like an idiot savant -- partly because his terminologies didn't match his what he seemed to think was the ambition of his concept ("and then, there's this MAJOR CHORD!"), and partly because he was mostly just bragging -- but damned if everything he said didn't evidence a flawless understanding of why that song worked, and of the how the human ear (in this culture anyway) identifies particular theoretical sequences with certain emotions. This seems like a stupidly obvious concept, but in an age where music comes and goes so quickly and so much less is capable of generating surprise, I don't think it's as easy to execute as one might think -- and Kanye's career has thus far been an exploitation of how effortless it is for him.
One of these moments that always gets me is near the end of "Power," where that four-note a capella motif ("ah-ah, HEY-ey") that introduces the song returns over a sequence of chords, which successively alter the harmonic nature of the motif -- the core notes remain static, but as those notes' relationships to the chords behind them change, the emotional tone of the "riff" takes on new colors (this is similar to how Radiohead's "Everything In Its Right Place" works -- an unchanging, some would say monotonous foreground melody, with the "music" occurring in the support elements). It's absolutely masterful, and the kind of thing that makes me feel comfortable calling Kanye West a genius: For a guy with such supposed ego problems, his ability to compose from the perspective of the listener is pretty unrivaled.
See, all of this is only half of what makes Kanye so great to me. Yes, he is absolutely an incredible composer of music (Lou Reed called the sonic compositions of
Yeezus “architecture,” which I think is dead-on), but what consistently blows me away is how he connects his music to remarkably keen social and personal awareness.
Hip-hop has always been a means of expression and empowerment for an oppressed people, which is why bravado and braggadocio derived from sexuality and music has always been a central tenet of the artform – sex and music are freeing and independent. “The man” can’t hold you down in those departments. As careers become successful, this typically begins to also include money and fashion for mostly the same reasons. This brash confidence has been a way for black artists to assert themselves in a white-dominated culture. Kanye has always been acutely aware of this (“we found bravery in my bravado”).
But what amazes me about
Yeezus specifically is how he candidly lashes out at those tenets of hip-hop, how me admits to feeling trapped by them, even though he has, as referenced before, often found “bravery” in them - what was once liberating is now limiting.
And furthermore, he accomplishes this questioning through sophisticated narrative techniques. Take “On Sight” for example. My friend Chris wrote a long piece about the album, and this is a portion pertaining to the song:
Look at it as you would any traditional 3-act play or movie.
"On Sight" provides context, establishes the characters. We have “Kanye”, money, partying, sex, (too many) hoes (in this house of sin). The line: "how much do I not give a fuck? let me show you right now before you give it up".
We're seeing a superficial man, disconnected and seemingly emotionless.
The key part is the interlude. It's the classic, soul-style Kanye from "College Dropout" acting as an oasis to the track's fiercer club beat. Pay attention to "He'll give us what we need/it may not be what we want".
The music from that interlude doesn't return until? "Bound 2". The very last song. We're getting narrative foreshadowing. That's fucking awesome.
The album’s narrative essentially follows a character from a shallow, emotionless lifestyle (full of braggadocio) to a vulnerable need for love and connection (consider the sharp contrast between the harsh tone of the opener and the soulful warmth of the closer). There’s an arc here, both sonically and lyrically – form matching content. Hell, even what the titles imply is thematically cohesive:
-On Sight: Immediacy
-Bound 2 (falling in love): Eventuality
That duality is always fascinating about Kanye: a vulnerable, insecure man using hip-hop bravado as a means of finding himself and expressing his soul.
Think about how “I am a God” recontextualizes braggadocio through self-evidently absurd extremes (“in a French-ass restaurant / hurry up with my damn croissants”) and dark soundscapes that make you question what Kanye is actually
saying through the song. Think about how that song ends with its brash protagonist screaming, angry, isolated, trapped by the confines of his own self-described godhood.
I think the album’s most mind-blowing moment is “Hold My Liquor”. It’s the midway point, and it’s when the tone begins to shift to introspective –
literally. The song begins with a distorted, semi-muted voice saying “I can hold my liquor / what these bitches can’t handle is me,” the words slurred as though the speaker is drunk. Then the music shifts slightly, becomes a little louder, and a beat that almost sounds like a heartbeat begins (it creates the effect of moving from outside to within), as the character – now speaking much more clearly – then contradicts what he just said with “I can’t handle no liquor.” He’s revealing his true insecurity. He’s admitting he’s putting up a front. I find that very moving. And, most importantly, he accomplishes it through a marriage of musical form and lyrical content. Just beautiful.
