Sorry, Ryan - I'm hijacking this joint blog of ours for the next three weeks for my hip-hop intersession class. Just so you know what's going on, I have to write at least 9 hip-hop-related blog entries, and I plan just writing about whatever comes to mind.
You can have this bad boy back in 2012.
I still can't decide whether or not I am actually incredibly annoyed at the free pass Kanye West has gotten this year with
My Beautiful Dark Twisted Fantasy, or if I think that the groupthink that has ensued in both the press and popular consensus is fascinating phenomenon, or both
. I concede that it's easily the most enjoyable album since his debut with
The College Dropout, and that it is probably the most elegantly produced album of the year,
period. From a sonic aesthetics perspective, West is in as fine of form as he's ever been, and it's somewhat of a relief for me to be able to enjoy his output again (especially after coming down off of horrible, emo, autotuned warble of
808s & Heartbreak).
Conversely, there are a lot of things to dislike about the record, too. He has an entirety of one genuinely funny punch-line across 14 tracks, and the rest of it is a catastrophic mess of thoughtless and outright bad lyrics, and the fact that Twisted Fantasy is West's best rap showcase in the last three years hardly persuades me that West is more than above-average in that category at best. There are a handful of moments where West allows the subject matter to drift into thoughtful introspection, but the rest of the work is badly marred by a lot of his questionable rhymes.
It's pretty mind-blowing how universal of a consensus the music press have granted this album, considering that these highly childish, witless and predominantly misogynistic lyrics will forever be held in the same company of other five-star, Perfect 10 records belonging to the likes of Wilco, Radiohead, and The Flaming Lips. As a (former) music reviewer myself, I understand that hip-hop criticism is accompanied by a different set of criteria, but under no circumstances should the standards be actually lowered. Truly bad lyrics on an otherwise great hip-hop album should not get a pass simply because mainstream hip-hop has a tendency to be lyrically vapid.
One evaluation of the record (courtesy of TinyMixTapes) interestingly noted that "Kanye West is so big, he's indie." This is pretty illustrative of how 1) "indie" as a descriptor continues to be meaningless on the cusp of 2011; and 2) the sea change of hipsters rushing to legitimize themselves as avid admirers of all genres is finally revealing itself in a really bizarre way.
Although I pretty much call bullshit on this, it is very interesting to see how deeply this album has moved and penetrated the music criticism community, and the hand job domino effect that has followed.