Dissect - Kanye’s Cry for Help

Episode Date: September 19, 2017

Cole talks about his experience at Kanye West's infamous Sacramento concert. Learn more about your ad choices. Visit podcastchoices.com/adchoices

Welcome to Dissect, Long Form Musical Analysis, broken into short digestible episodes. I'm your host, Cole Kushna. Hey everyone, I'm taking some time off this week for a family vacation. So in lieu of a new episode today, I'm going to share with you a piece I wrote up by my experience at the now infamous Kanye West concert stop and my hometown of Sacramento, California last year. If you'll remember, this is the concert in which Kanye stopped his performance just after a few songs, went on a 15-minute rant, and then unexpectedly canceled the show, and a few days later canceled all of his remaining tour dates. At the time, Donald Trump had just been elected president, and our country was deeply polarized, which of course is only worse than since. There's something about Kanye's concert, that recent election, and the abrasive state of our country that all seemed connected.

This piece was my attempt to connect those dots, and I think it applies just as much if not more so today. I hope you enjoy. Let's talk about Kanye, Sacramento, because I think we're missing something. This is a story about empathy. Let's start with the requisite backstory. Here's what went down last Saturday night at the Golden One Center. The stadium fills with long teas and skinny jeans. Connie's an hour and a half late.

Kanye takes stage with Kid Cutty, All is Forgiven, crowd erupts. Connie drops off Cutty, takes stage alone, performs three songs half-heartedly. Kanye stops mid-song and rants for 15 minutes. Calls out radio, Google, Facebook, Beyonce, J-Z, Hillary Clinton, and pseudo-supports Donald Trump. Kanye drops mic, calls off show. The crowd goes from confused to stunned, to sad, to angry, in a span of about four minutes. The house lights come up. Some cry, most boo.

Others chant fuck Kanye while wearing Kanye shirts. Everyone leaves, not sure of anything in life. Kanye took considerable backlash online. It became a global story. The next day, Kanye cancels his 21 remaining tour dates, leaving $10 million on the table. Later that same day, he was checked into a hospital for psychiatric evaluation. And at the time of writing this, that's all we know.

The full implications of Saturday night's Kanye experience have yet to be revealed. But it's already embedded in pop culture infamy. Everyone who attended will say, I was there when. Just about everyone I know has asked me about the show. I've kept my response as brief. But what I really like to say is this. We need more empathy.

I know that's a big leap. Hear me out. Our public figures now play an intimate role in our everyday lives. Their selfies exist alongside our own on Instagram. They talk directly to us on Snapchat. We can now develop very strong, very personal feelings and opinions towards celebrities. They receive more of our attention. than ever, both when they succeed and more so when they fail. This is what concerns me.

It seems more than ever we revel in the failures and downfall of our public figures. Social media gives us all the opportunity to twist the knife. But beneath the designer clothes in Photoshop are real people, often with troubled pasts. And more often than not, there are people that have given us extraordinary gifts. Kanye West is a difficult figure. I get that. What he did at the Golden One Center upset many of us. I get that too. But let's for a moment consider what he's given us. Kanye West has single-handedly influenced an entire generation.

If you've paid any attention to popular music and fashion in the last 10 years, you know this to be fact. As producer and musician, he's elevated hip-hop, a genre had argued the most relevant at this time in history, to heights previously unreached. He's given us seven highly influential, critically acclaimed. solo albums. He's produced and written countless others. He's a recipient of 21 Grammys. His live performances and innovative stage structures have set our contemporary expectations.

His signature shoes are the stuff of legend in sneaker culture. We're just scratching the surface here. Kanye West is a cultural entity and to himself. The tides of contemporary urban cultures sway with his every move. And even if you live outside the realm of his influence, know that he's had a very large, positive effect on millions of people. The many gifts Connie has given the world far outweighs social blunders. And here's the thing, Connie hasn't hurt anybody. He's just kind of annoying. He has an erratic, loud mouth that opens at traditionally inappropriate times.

From George Bush doesn't care about black people to Taylor, I'ma let you finish. Kanye is a self-described blip in the matrix. But there might be more to that loud mouth than meets the ear. What if we were to set aside all personal feeling and view the Sacramento tirade through an empathetic lens? There's that saying, the loudest one in the room is the weakest one in the room. What if Kanye's outburst was a cry for help? Most may not know that Connie's mother unexpectedly passed away in the month of November in 2007. Kanye largely blames himself for her passing.

He told Q Magazine, quote, If I had never moved to L.A., she'd still be alive. I don't want to go too far into it because it'll bring me to tears." Since her death, Kanye has been prone to behavioral problems during this time of year. Less than two months ago, Kanye's wife, Kim Kardashian, was tied up and robbed at gunpoint by five men while alone in a Paris hotel room. Could anyone avoid the inevitable psychological aftermath of an incident like that? It's also suspected that Kanye is on the antidepressant lexipro.

His references struggles with the drug in his lyrics twice. in the past six months, as well as revealing he's seeing a psychiatrist. Then there's the telling but little known song and Music Video, I Feel Like That, released late last year. The video features Kanye sitting with his back against a wall, visibly exhausted, possibly medicated. Just yesterday, the video mysteriously disappeared from the internet. But let's take a quick listen to its lyrics.

First, as you can act control, feeling lonely or even when you're with people, feeling blocked, feeling blue, sad, feeling disinterested in things, feeling fearful. Are you feelings easily hurt? Feeling that people are unfriendly or do you feel like people dislike you? I feel like that all the time. Combined the anniversary of his mother's passing, the robbery, the lexie pro, with being a new father, the suffocating relentlessness of paparazzi, millions in personal debt, and the countless other unknown pressures that Kanye West must face on a daily basis, and you can't help

but wonder, what if Kanye's rant was a cry for help? If there's anything I've learned from my six-month study of Kendrick Lamar's to pimp a butterfly for season one of Dissect, is that we should root for our leaders and artists to succeed. After battling with fame, which led to severe depression and suicidal thoughts, Kendrick took a a trip to South Africa in search of clarity. The trip inspired him to embrace his leadership role in spite of its potential consequences. In a prophetic speculation of his own future, the album's conclusive song, Mortal Man, muses on the build-up, tear-down mentality we have towards our leaders.

Later in the song, When she's hit the fan That you still a fan Won't you look to your left and right Make sure you ask your friends When shit hit the fan Is you still a fan? Do you believe in me?

Later in the song, Kendrick asks How many leaders you said you needed Then left them for dead? We take and take and take from our artists Yet we often lack empathy for them. Their success can make them appear invincible But history is filled with humans

That have struggled with fame and celebrity. It's led many to depression, addiction, self-destructive behavior, nervous breakdowns, and suicide. In 2004, comedian Dave Chappelle walked off stage midway through a set at the Memorial Auditorium in Sacramento. After members of the audience continually shouted, I'm Rick James bitch, a catchphrase from the Dave Chappelle show, the massive hit sketch comedy show that propelled him into global stardom. After a few minutes, Dave returned to the stage, noting that the show was, quote, ruining his life.

He was working, quote, 20 hours a day, and excepted. expresses issues with being famous, which he felt resulted in the inability of fans to see him as a human being. Frustrated, Dave turned on the crowd, saying, quote, you know why my show is good? Because the network officials say you're not smart enough to get what I'm doing, and every day I fight for you. I tell them how smart you are. Turns out I was wrong. You people are stupid, unquote. Shortly after a Sacramento appearance, Chappelle famously walked away from season three of the Chappelle show, leaving $50 million on the table. Rumors of drug addiction and mental breakdown quickly circulated. But the truth was, like Lamar, Chappelle fled to South Africa in search of clarity.

Like who got your best interest? Like how much of you depended? How clutch are the people that say they love you and who pretended? How tough is your skin when they turn you in? Do you show forgiveness? What brush do you bend with dusting your shoulders from being offended? What kind of thing metaphoric about watching Kanye alone on that strange, beautiful stage floating above the crowd at the Golden One center. Two large straps made an X across his chest, restraints that were attached to a rope that helped him avoid falling off the stage and into the crowd. He circled around that small, floating island like something caged. He didn't seem in control of himself. I remember thinking, I hope he's okay. Because empathy is not concerned with how something is said, but why? It's not concerned with specifics,

but intent. It's able to differentiate symptom from source. Kanye West is a measuring stick for our empathetic capacity, a barometer on our willingness to understand. I chose to write about Kanye West in empathy because for many, it's an absurd concept. But we're living in absurd times. We just concluded the worst, most divisive election cycle in recent history. The negative energy in this country is palpable. We've become so blinded by our own opinions that we forget we need each other to succeed. We need more empathy for those we don't understand. We need more empathy on both sides of the aisle. We all want a better future. There's a lot of disagreement on how to do that, but empathy is only concerned with why. Intent over specifics,

common ground. We need more empathy for those we don't understand. Dave Chappelle very recently returned to the limelight, performing a monologue on Saturday Night Live. the first Saturday following the recent election results. After sharing a story about attending a majority black party at the White House during Obama's presidency, he concluded his monologue with these lines. And I saw how happy everybody was. These people who had been historically disenfranchised. And it made me feel hopeful.

And it made me feel proud to be an American. And it made me very happy about the prospects of our country. So in that spirit, I'm wishing Donald Trump luck, and I'm going to give him a chance, and we, the historically disenfranchised, demand that he give us one to. Thank you very much. Dave Chappelle stood alone on a small stage and spoke to the world. He chose empathy over discord without sacrificing his message.

It was beautiful and thoughtful and incredibly moving. So, in that spirit, I'm wishing that Kanye and his beautiful. beautiful angelic stage float their way to his South Africa, wherever that may be, because I'm rooting for Kanye West. Even when it's challenging, I'm rooting for everyone. Dysect is written and produced by me. A special thank you to Garrett Shields, who is an invaluable aid to this piece. Also, shout out to friend of the show, Reed Ballou, and his excellent think piece rap music as a gateway to empathy. It was a big inspiration. Visit at Dysect podcast on Twitter for a link to the piece.

If you enjoy Dysect, leave a review on Apple Podcasts, share a link on your favorite social media channel, or tell a friend about the show. As I often say, there's no team behind Dysect. It's just me, and I can use all the help I can get growing the show. If you'd like to support Dysect, you can do so at patreon.com slash dissect. That's Patreon, spelled P-A-T-R-E-O-N dot com slash Dysect. Okay, thanks so much for listening. I'll talk to you next week. Even to call your daughter on the face time

Even when we was young I used to make time Now we be way too busy just to make time Even for my real friends I guess I get what I deserved on a Word on the streets that they ain't heard from them I guess I get what I deserved on a Talk down on my name throw dirt on them