What’s more tedious than a multimillion-selling rapper spending his second album bragging about his greatness and complaining that everyone is out to get him? Nothing.
How good is Kanye West? So good that even though the 28-year-old, white-hot hitmaker spends a healthy chunk of his intensely anticipated “Late Registration” – in stores today – boasting and bellyaching, it nonetheless confirms his status as hip- hop’s, and therefore, pop music’s, reigning Lord of the Manor.
In case you’ve been living under a rock rather than listening to the Roc – that’s Roc-A-Fella, the label that released his Grammy-winning “The College Dropout” in 2004 – West is the man behind the curtain, the wizard that gangstas and popsters, from Beanie Sigel to Britney Spears, go to in hopes he’ll bestow upon them a top 10 hit. He even gets publicity from completely unexpected quarters, such as when rap mogul Suge Knight was shot and wounded Saturday night at West’s MTV Awards after party.
And he’s the fiercely determined artist who scored his first hit last year with “Through the Wire,” recorded with his jaw wired shut after he crashed his Lexus and nearly died. Ever since, he has seen his star steadily ascend.
He doesn’t look like a hip-hop heavyweight.
Rappers are supposed to show off bulging muscles and bandannas, à la 50 Cent. Or at least insolent stares in the manner of Eminem, whose current tailspin neatly parallels West’s rocket rise. But West – whose first name is pronounced KAHN-yay and means “the only one” in Swahili – sports Izod shirts and was raised middle class on Chicago’s South Side. He is the only son of an English-professor mother who split up with his marriage-counselor (and ex-Black Panther) father when ‘Ye was 3.
In a genre where doing jail time can be a canny career move, West’s perceived lack of hardship was seen as an impediment. After dropping out of Chicago State in 1999, writer-producer West steadily scored hits for rappers including Cam’ron, Sigel and Jay-Z with a trademark style that often involved speeding up samples of old R&B hits. But his Roc-A-Fella taskmasters were reluctant to let him take the mic.
As he remembers it on “Registration’s” “Touch the Sky”: “They thought pink polos would hurt the Roc.” When West finally got a shot, he made the most of it. “The College Dropout” sold 3 million and ran off a series of hits: “Through the Wire,” “All Falls Down” and the particularly brilliant gospel-rap rouser “Jesus Walks.” He was a near-unanimous critics’ pick as artist of the year last year, which made his annoyance when Gretchen Wilson was chosen best new artist at the American Music Awards understandable, if obnoxious.
“I was the best new artist this year, so get that other (nonsense) out of here,” he insisted.
That outburst offered another key to West: At first, he may not appear so tough, but check the nothing-can-stop-me look in his eyes.
“Dropout” brandished a surfeit of hip-hop chutzpah, going so far as to turn a reference to high mortality rates among black urban males into a cocky celebration (“We wasn’t supposed to make it past 25/The joke’s on you, we still alive!”). “Late Registration” is suffused with West’s world-conquering ambition. His skills as a beat-maker have more than earned him the respect of the hard-core hip-hop heads, as evidenced by guest appearances by rappers Jay-Z, Nas and the Game. The latter appears on “Crack Music,” which builds an argument for gangsta rap as one positive byproduct of crack cocaine’s invasion of the ‘hood in the ’80s. Give us lemons, we’ll make lemonade.
But there’s an unabashed pop side to West too. “Registration” includes guest spots from Adam Levine of Maroon 5 and Jamie Foxx, who does his best Ray Charles on “Gold Digger,” another song about covetous women that, surprisingly, isn’t completely stupid.
And his chief musical collaborator on the disc is Jon Brion, who has worked with Aimee Mann and Fiona Apple. Brion aids the auteur in giving tracks such as “Addiction,” which features a haunting sample of Etta James’ “My Funny Valentine” overlaid with strings, a stunning combination of rhythmic force and stylish grace.
Those two sides of West give his music its frisson, and make him such an intriguing pop star.
“Late Registration” is by no means a crowning masterpiece. It’s not nearly as conceptually cohesive as “Dropout.” And for a guy who is clearly a workaholic – see his production credits with John Legend, Common, the Game and Roc-A-Fella newcomer Teairra Mari this year alone – there are a few cuts that simply aren’t up to snuff. The uncharacteristically lazy “We Major,” for example.
Despite its weaknesses, “Registration” still easily triumphs over any sophomore jinx. It’s packed with potential singles – look for the sugary-sweet “Hey Mama” ’round about Mother’s Day. Most important, he shows he has the capacity to grow.
