Review Summary: Some will say this album is his best. Others will say it's his worst. I see both sides. But while you wouldn't jam to most of it on a good day, he'll probably never create a more depth-defying, emotionally gripping, irresistible Grammy-deserving effort.
There's three types of people in life, and furthermore three types of artists. There's the flat-line characters who serve nothing but a single purpose, ones you simply observe that don't distract you from your larger goal. You know them (ahem, Soulja Boy). There's that main group of trustees who are close to you, and the ones that you glue to as good pals. But though they may grow, they don't really change, and you don't doubt their stability for one second. Keeping it limited to hip-hop, consider these your typical Jay-Zs, Waynes, etcetera.
There's a third type of character in life, and subsequently, a third type of artist. It's the person who you always view in one way, then all of a sudden something emotionally tragic happens and you view them in a wildly different manner. You look at them and they're still that amazing person, but they've changed in ways that only you know. And somehow, it bonds you to them, and no matter how quickly they may return back to normal in full force, you've seen them at their weakest and most vulnerable, and nothing will change that.
This is the most critically argued-over album I've ever seen. Some will tell you the physical loss of a mother and the personal loss of a fiance was probably the best thing that could happen to this man's musical career. Others don't buy it as an excuse to create an ENTIRE album in which you do nothing but SING (what? but he's a rapper!) on T-Pain's auto-tuner over 808 drums. Let's just make that clear: That's the bulk. Of the entire. Album. That's it. The guy SINGS. A LOT.
And from the very moment the album starts, entering with a soul-chilling and phenomenally brilliant (or god awful, depending on who you ask) track, the broken-down, almost unbearably vulnerable version of the bigger-than-life superstar that we know as Kanye West (who by this time requires no introduction, though he'd ask for one) has entered the building. "Say You Will", the prologue to Kanye's bitter despair of an album, drowns in sadness. It's a six-minute intro that depends on it's intense graveyard feel, desperately surviving on it's heart monitor blips, while he deeply pines for his lost love to promise a return. "Don't say you will," he begs, "Then play you will... I pray you will." But it eventually turns into an overwhelming but controlled anguish, with one offensively intrusive moment: "When I grab your neck / I touch your soul." The song, unlike almost anything he's ever done before, is absolutely haunting in it's delivery and craft, and because of this, the conflict over this piece of work is almost immediate. Is this YEEZY? You'll be positive that there's NO EFFIN WAY that this is a Kanye album. And if it is, some will be certain it can't be a good one.
But it is a Kanye album. And it is a classic. No, it is not a HIP-HOP classic, but a classic that stands alone in it's transcendence of everything rap, everything hip-hop, and even everything Kanye West.
Simply put, Yeezy is emotionally f*cked up, and doesn't care to show it. And from that beginning of 808s and Heartbreak, an abrupt halt between Graduation and the conclusion of his 4-album saga, Good-A** Job, it's clear that something is amiss. We had that first inkling that not all was well in the single that preceded the album, where over a simple heart-thump of an 808, Kanye drops his most blatant and honest, though simple, lyrics yet. He's straightforward with his ex-lover: "I'm not loving you / way I wanted to / what I had to do / had to run from you..." he warns, and that line is the invitation to the mind-f*cking insanity of "Love Lockdown", incredible in both it's minimalism in drum and piano as well as its sudden outbursts of exotic drums in it's chorus. The MTV Video Music Award live premiere of the song alone sparked ambiguous conversation about what we would expect from Kanye's new effort, and the matching video, though it fit the music well, only confused us more.
Indeed, gone are the booty-droppers about bitches and money- in fact, on "Welcome To Heartbreak", he takes a stab at himself ("My friend showed me pictures of his kids / and all I could show him was pictures of my cribs", he starts) for ever mistaking his values, over the ticking 808. The entire album is in undeniable Heartbreak fashion. "Heartless" is a cold song and notably the most hip-hop on the album- it's got a bouncy beat, and West rides it very well while rap-singing to the one that's trying to get away, even though he's not sure if he wants her himself. He wonders: "How could you be so Dr. Evil / I decided we wasn't gon' speak so, why we up 3am on the phone?" But he later makes his mind for her: "You just gon' be hatin' me / And we just gon' be enemies... I'm taking off tonight."
There's "Amazing", which is just that, with Kanye reveling in his rule over hip-hop (I'm the only thing I'm afraid of / No matter what, you'll never take that from me / My reign is as far as your eyes can see") over a beat that drags, but in a good way. The song sounds almost prehistoric; it's filled with deep grunts and what you swear could be a pterodactyl, but it's also layered with a harrowing choir and has the only time I've ever liked Young Jeezy at its close.
"Robocop" is an appealing futuristic tale of a crazy co-dependent "drama queen", and as its a standout in it's relative uptempo mood, it'll be a track you'll remember. It matches well with "Paranoid", another more upbeat cut that's retro-cool in production and even danceable.
On another diverse turn, "Street Lights" is a certainly moving track with an honest and inquisitive tone about the uncertainty of that elusive road map of life ("See, I know my destination / but I'm just not there / Life's just not fair.") It encapsulates the theme of the entire album: a poignant and powerful observation of not only the unpredictability of our lives, but the brutal negative effects of love and the desperation of deep and complete loss.
On "Bad News", Kanye sings half-speed while the beat races double-time, while the brain of the woman he's delivering said news to seems to moving even slower ("Oh you just gon' keep him like you never knew?") "Coldest Winter" is a chilly tribute to his mother in which he begs to know "Will I ever love again?". But perhaps the real gem on the album (and that's saying something, because there's quite a few) is Kanye's duet with Lil' Wayne on the unexpected "See You In My Nightmares", in which Weezy and Yeezy shamelessly dump a woman over intense synth and, you guessed it, 808s. Kanye is at his best, but Wayne is what pushes the song. "We were once a fairy tale / but this is farewell..." he slowly warns before letting s**t hit the fan, screaming "Baby girl I'm finished / I thought we were committed / I thought we were cemented / I really thought we meant it."
And as if the other eleven tracks were enough, "Pinocchio Story" is a more than fitting end to the production. In front of his fans, Kanye gives a live delivery that isn't exactly praised for it's rhythm but rather its rhyme. "Do you think I sacrificed real life? / For all of the things? The flashing lights?" It's supposed to be a rhetorical question, but you still feel that the answer would mean everything, and Kanye can't give you a solid one. And then there's, among hundreds of poignant lines this album offers, the one inwardly destructive piece of lyricism that sums up the past year of Kanye West's rollercoaster ride of a so-called life.
"Its funny- Pinocchio lied, and that`s what kept him from it," he states, 'it' meaning becoming a real boy, that multi-faceted character that can hit rock bottom yet comes back in full force. "I tell the truth, and I keep running. It's like I'm looking for something out there, trying to find something... I turn on the TV and see me... and I see nothing."
In short, every track on 808s & Heartbreak is brilliant. Yes, the rhyming you'd expect is still there and in top form (although significantly simpler than in his previous albums), but moreover, West has done the logically unthinkable- he's created a completely and utterly depressing album that is an irresistible listen in every single bit of its misery. You would in no way bump this album on a good day, but Kanye has done what few artists would ever do- in owning his complete and utter vulnerability, he's created an album that has exited that more comfortable realm of trying to be a superstar, trying to be the best. Heartbreak is a testament to everything that you give up when you choose the avenue of working so hard, in music, in performance, in award-show hissy fits, to make it to the top. For those of you concerned about his ever-growing ego, you will see that the great indestructible tin man West indeed has a heart. No matter whether or not you believe in the album's longevity, however, you trust and know that he will indeed be back sooner than you think, with a follow-up that will almost engulf this emotional work with more urban, superficial cuts. And whether you prefer this side of him or not, that's fine, but still, you've seen him at his worst. Now you just wait once again for him at his best.
