There’s been a lot of Kanye West hating going on recently– particularly from white-boys trying to gain some cred by claiming he’s mainstream. We get it, you understand the underlying socio-economic reasoning that’s driven hip hop to take it’s current form, you really feel it. But,still, you keep getting your hat stolen!!
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Check out some of the responses to this ridiculous video that Kanye made from what he claims to be a hotel room in Paris. That previous sentence seems to make me sound skeptic of his whereabouts, which I’m not. I’m more stressing the idea that people seem to accept that Kanye is out of his fucking mind, when really he is just fucking with his fan-base and with the concept of celebrity itself.
I think that Kanye at some level understands, in true Warholian fashion( or maybe more Kaufmanian), that not just the stuff you put on tape is “art” but really you can mess with the concept of people’s perceptions by conducting your life as some strange amalgamated version of Sex and the City and The Jeffersons. Kanye understands the absurd nature of unsubtantiated wealth and that rascist America is foaming at the mouth with each piece of gear the Don of Louis Vuitton buys. The end result is some strange imitation of performance art — the effect is like a visual equivalent to that overused Auto-Tune. But still, it is effecting.
Until people realize he is taking the piss, that his brand-obsession, his megalomania, are kind of a joke, an entire generation of black kids will continue to walk around looking similar to Lamar Latrell from “Revenge of the Nerds”.
Which isn’t fair for them!
Now it’s time for me to defend my cred by explaining half-heartedly why I downloaded, and then tossed, the new( i guess) Death Cab For Cutie album. And it’s not becasue Ben Gibbrad is marrying Zooey Deschanel.
I’ve avoided bands like this for a long time and my recent brush with the Gray’s Anatomy soundtrack crowd will keep me in the good — and purposeless– fight of avoiding them for a few more years. When I say bands like this, I mean the type that practice a strange act of musical-mercantilism by going into a particular music scene and stealing that group’s music, then bringing it back to the motherland to trade for gold.
That’s a bit of exaggerated.
Still, I’ve avoided ever texting FOX during American Idol feeling the act alone would bring me too close to the crime scene– that if I could remain a silent observer, I wasn’t observing at all.
But because of the TV, again, I found myself watching and liking this clip late one night when I was doing work.
And that feeling of delusion blanketed-over until the next day, where I struggled with imagining what life would be like if I weren’t such a musical dick. That if I ceased thinking good music was hard to find, I would have something more in common with the people I take the bus with, or see at my therapists office.
And so, for a few days, I struggled to listen to the album.
The thing is I don’t hate this type of music. In fact, Plans has a lot of the qualities I like in music: melodic riffs garnished with heavy pop-sensibilites, self-deprecating yet egotistical lyrical approach.
Finally I settled on a weak food analogy to settle the score I was feeling about Death Cab for Cutie. And while the following metephor is true, I’m aware that DCfC really isn’t that bad, that the problem is more me dealing with the fact that I think if I like that band, it means I’m pretty low-brow and that I have given into some type of cultural apathy.
I remember when I was a kid and my mom used to buy the no-frills Oreo’s and try to convince me they were as good as the real ones. They even said on the box, something like: compare ours, or whatever. But it was too late, I had the real ones and even though they didn’t taste different at all, I was loyal to the original brand.