I’ve heard that word a lot. Therapy. [808s & Heartbreak] wasn’t done as therapy. I guess it was done as therapy in the way anything is done as therapy. Playing basketball is therapy. Design is therapy, it’s being creative. Performing can be therapy. I did these songs just to be doing good music.
Kanye West is so tired of being Kanye West. On November 25, after a taping of Late Night With Conan O’Brien (NBC)—his fifth media event in two days—his chauffeured black Chevy Tahoe is bombing down New York City’s Fifth Avenue dodging a swarm of fans chasing the vehicle, Beatles-style.
Everyone inside the car is trying to ignore the paparazzo riding alongside on a bicycle, snapping photos on a small digital camera. And Mr. West is shot. Dark rings around his eyes, lids falling, full-bellied yawns slipping out. A whirlwind 48-hour tour, from the 2008 American Music Awards in L.A. to ABC’s Good Morning America in New York, is finally coming to a close, and as he sits slumped in a captain’s seat, silver Apple PowerBook on his lap, he’s doing something that relaxes him: blogging.
There are pictures of alluring women on the screen, just waiting for his signature. Where are you Yeezy??? word bubble. Once the photographer has been thwarted (“I actually do like his music,” the pap blurts before politely being asked to bounce by a bodyguard) and the fans outrun—though one particularly vociferous teenager gets an autograph at a red light—the Tahoe will take him to John F. Kennedy Airport to board a Netherlands-bound plane, where he’ll continue his acclaimed Glow in the Dark Tour. This is his final interview before the trip. And he can’t finish it.
“There’s a balance in a great Kanye West interview,” he says, sliding the laptop into a camouflage Louis Vuitton carry-on and leaning back in his seat. “Politically incorrect shit that’s obvious that no one speaks on. Bold statements. A bit of heart. Inspiration. Aspiration. A bit of humor, in my opinion...”
He trails off. Kanye has just fallen asleep. Mid-sentence.
It’s hard to blame him. He has hurtled himself across the globe to deliver his fourth album, 808s & Heartbreak (Roc-A-Fella/Def Jam, 2008), to the world. And his body can’t take it anymore. It’s not an uncommon feeling for the 31-year-old Chicago native. Since his debut, 2004’s The College Dropout (Roc-A-Fella/Def Jam), West has been a relentless self-promoter, a petulant brat, a fascinating and dogged media personality, an innovative shaper of pop music, a style icon, and an honest-to-goodness superstar. His fame has grown exponentially, culminating in the pop extravaganza, Graduation (Roc-A-Fella/Def Jam), which sold nearly one million copies during its first week of release in 2007.
But 808s is something different, a sharp left turn in his expansive oeuvre. Recorded over three weeks in Hawaii in the aftermath of his mother Donda West’s 2007 death and last year’s breakup of his 20-month long engagement to fashion designer Alexis Phifer, the album is a broken man’s denouement, wringing loose emotional demons while coming to terms with his own decisions. He is singing throughout, mostly with the aid of Auto-Tune technology, something that has polarized his fans into
virulent debate. And he sounds bitter. It’s a gutsy,if not perfect, piece of art. But he will not back down from his decisions. He says this is just the beginning, “the blueprint” for his musical future.
Kanye did finally complete this interview, from Hamburg, Germany, three days later. He was wide awake and vibrant, riffing on fame, love, women, God, and his desire to pose naked. He was typically perceptive, sometimes outrageous. He did not fall asleep once.
Do you remember the moment you knew you needed to do this project?
KANYE WEST: About three songs in, I said, “I’m gonna do this.”
Which three?
“Heartless,” “Love Lockdown,” and “Bad News.”
How did it start?
I was just working on Jay’s album, and I was like, Okay, I’m gonna work on some shit for me. And I did the “In the night I hear ’em talk, the coldest story ever told...”
Was there any thought about giving “Heartless” to Jay?
Jay’s got shit no one’s heard. We went back and forth on who’s gonna take which songs.
Did you create this album as a form of therapy?
I’ve heard that word a lot. Therapy. It wasn’t done as therapy. I guess it was done as therapy in the way anything is done as therapy. Playing basketball is therapy. Design is therapy, it’s being creative. Performing can be therapy. I did these songs just to be doing good music. So I don’t think it was any more therapeutic than playing basketball. But was it therapeutic? Yeah.
You used to talk about being on a path, knowing your album titles and when you’re going to put them out. Are you still on that path?
I knew that path, but I guess the obvious answer is no because I didn’t roll with the original fourth album title [Good-Ass Job]. Life sometimes changes. I’m on a path that God puts me on. I don’t believe all of this happened by chance. I’m in the position that I’m in due to who my parents were, due to my attitude, and my taste, and my opinion. I used to drop albums and there was this big thing with me and the critics. I’m my own worst critic. You can’t find anything else wrong.
Did the critics bother you because you were so hard on yourself?
Yeah. And also, I didn’t realize at the time that my albums are open to criticism, which, at the end of the day, they are. These are gifts that I’m delivering the world. These aren’t term papers. These aren’t tests. With a song like “Diamonds,” it’s almost like I was trying to pass a test. Look how good I could rap, look how many instruments I could put on
this, look at me and Jon Brion, watch us show off. And it’s not that the record wasn’t good, but when you make a record like “Love Lockdown,” it’s like you’re not even trying to pass a test. You just do a Basquiat painting over the whole test. And sure, every answer is wrong, but look, it makes a beautiful picture.
Do you feel like you grew up and there are no more tests?
Yeah. But you never have to take a test. That’s what other people need to realize. They’re not at the mercy of other people’s opinions. It’s all what you believe in yourself. Your attitude determines your latitude. Because a lot of people are gonna thought-project. They’re gonna tell you what you can and cannot do. Like, Aw, man, I wouldn’t be doing that. Well, that’s you. God has put me in a really good space. He has a mission for me. There’s gonna be ups and downs. But there’s something He wants me to deliver to the world. He knows I was going through some dark times...and He shed some light in my life.
When you’re dealing with the paparazzi, do you feel like a violent person?
I haven’t done anything violent. They make it seem like I actually went and hit paparazzi. I haven’t. I was restrained. I’m good at restraining myself from committing violent acts. I know how to control my temper. That one paparazzo made it a bigger deal. I just put my hand up, and he felt like he had more right to my personal space than I did. I put my hand up to stop him from shooting me.
Is that what bothers you about stardom? The paparazzi?
Even when I first dropped, paparazzi wasn’t as crazy. The law hasn’t caught up with the Internet. People are just taking advantage. People don’t realize we’re completely intruding on these people’s spaces and nobody’s saying anything, so let’s keep doing it. [Cigarettes] have a Surgeon General’s warning on it. We need a Surgeon
General’s warning on some of those lens caps. Warning: Might completely intrude on your space, sabotage your image.
The Internet has been instrumental in your career. Some people know you more for your blog than your music.
I wish.
Is it more valuable?
In the future it could be. There’s times when I’ll feel frustrated or upset about something and I’ll just take a day off, but I’ll still put up some posts, and I’ll do my little rants. On tour it gives me something to do.
Has music become easy for you?
Music is easy for me, and it should be. I’m a professional now. Sometimes I zone out, completely Jordan out on a track. Like “Say You Will.” I did the beat in 10 minutes.
So where do you go from here, artistically?
One of the hardest things about art is getting it paid for. It didn’t click in my mind until about a month ago that this whole time I’ve been releasing hit records to pay for art. You’re releasing hit records so the label believes in you enough to pay for the “Touch the Sky” video.
The Glow in the Dark set was extravagant. Are you still touring to make money? Or are you content spending the gate on the tour itself?
I don’t want to take a loss because touring is my livelihood. But I’ll definitely sacrifice. Maybe I’ll make half of what someone else will make. But I think I’ll make history at the same time. Or change people’s minds about hip hop culture, about black culture. And do something that people will remember for the rest of their lives. That’s more important than money.
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