Dissect - S2E14 – Blame Game by Kanye West

Episode Date: November 14, 2017

We continue our serialized analysis of Kanye West’s My Beautiful Dark Twisted Fantasy by dissecting "Blame Game." Follow Dissect on social media @dissectpodcast. Purchase Dissect merch at dissectpodcast.com. Learn more about your ad choices. Visit podcastchoices.com/adchoices

Hey everyone. A quick reminder that this Friday, November 17th, is the last day to pre-order Dysect Season 2 apparel, a team with the sustainable streetwear company Rocky Clark Clothing to create a twisted fantasy-inspired long-sleevee and dad hat that I think you'll love. Once more is that we're donating all proceeds to charity. Head over to rocky clarkclothing.com to check it out. Again, the deadline is this Friday, November 17th. So head to rocky clarkclothing.com to order today. Okay, thanks for your time. today's show. Welcome to Dissect, long-form musical analysis broken into short digestible episodes. I'm your host, Cole Kushna. Today, we continue our serialized examination of my beautiful dark-twisted

fantasy by Kanye West. On our last episode, we dissected the song Hell of a Life, a twisted, erotic fantasy about Connie's attraction to a porn star. We heard how the song is at once both a liberating act of unabashed self and sexual expression, as well as a sad expression of a lonely rock star, who fantasizes marrying the porn star he's watching on a computer screen. Hell of a Life ends with the moans of a woman and Connie's heavy breathing, which reinterpreted as Connie masturbating while watching a porno. And if you'll remember, we also heard how these breaths transformed into a sigh of resignation on the album's next track, the second song of Act 3, and the subject of today's episode, Blame Game.

Blame Game is produced by Connie West, DJ Frank E, and Mike Dean. The song centers around a sample of 8.5. Aifex Twins' 2001 track, Averill 14th. Beneath this sample, a driving but understated drumbeat is added, taken from the 1977 track Parade Strat by J.J. Johnson. Next, Mike Dean adds an original bass line, and Chris Chorney adds a cello arrangement. The piano drums, bass, and cello,

make up the musical foundation of Blame Game. Thematically, the song centers around Connie's mixed emotions regarding a woman after their breakup. There's pretty solid evidence that this song was specifically written about Connie's relationship. with Amber Rose, we're going to take a brief but necessary sidebar into the history of their relationship. Amber Rose grew up in South Philadelphia. At age 15, she began exotic dancing under the pseudonym Paris to support her family after her parents' divorce. In 2008, she appeared in

rapper Ludacris' music video for the song What Them Girls Like. Kanye saw the music video and reached out to Amber immediately. She told the New York Post, quote, I was home in the Bronx and he called me on my cell phone. I never met him before. He was like, hey, it's Kanye, unquote. Amber hung up on Kanye, thinking it was a prank call. Connie called back and convinced her to fly to L.A. to star in an unreleased video for the song Robocop.

It was this initial meeting where Connie and Amber's friendship and eventual relationship began. The two became an iconic pair, frequently seen at various red carpet events, including the 2009 VMAs, where the two were seen drinking Hennessy before Connie's infamous stage. crash. In 2010, during the writing of Twisted Fantasy, Connie and Amber broke up. They've been together two years. Since their breakup, various rumors, stories, and public feuds have surfaced

regarding the end of their relationship. Amber claims that Kanye cheated on her habitually with different women, including one Kim Kardashian. Regarding her time with Kanye and her part in the inspiration of Twisted Fantasy, she told Complex Magazine, quote, it's a great part of history, and it's a great part of hip-hop, and I'm happy to be part of it, but that time was not great for me. I'm famous and I'm broke. I can't date anyone else. I can't say anything on the internet because Connie has such a voice. If I was going to kill myself, I would have done it during those times. The only thing I got from him was fame, unquote. Kanye himself alluded to his adultery and mistreatment of women in the song Runaway.

Specifically with the opening lines, she found pictures in my email. I sent a bitch a picture of my dick. I don't know what it is with females, but I'm not too good at that shit. Of course, it's hard to know what really happened between the two for sure, but it's safe to assume that they didn't part in the best of terms. Twisted fantasy and Blame Game in particular, would seem to be at least partially influenced by Amber and Connie's relationship. But not even Amber herself knows exactly which songs or which moments are about her and which are not.

She admitted as much in a recent appearance on Complex's everyday struggle. And I'm sure he said shit pertaining to other pieces in his life that didn't have to do shit with me, right? Because, you know, it was like her brother's on Coke and like shit like that. I have two little brothers. They're kids. So that wasn't true, you know? And then just other shit that I tried to like decipher or whatever, but it just didn't pertain to me personally. So everyone else thought it was just about me.

and it wasn't. Because not even Amber herself knows, I've been hesitant this season to attribute any one line to her or any of Kanye's previous relationships for that matter. I'm going to do the same with today's episode, but we'll do so with the understanding

that Amber was likely a very big inspiration. So with that in mind, let's dive into Blame Game's opening moments. Blame Game opens with Kanye asking, whose fault? Coming off the heels of Devil in a New Dress, Run Away and Hell of a Life, all songs about Connie's failing relationships with women. It would seem that Blame Game is the space in which Connie will attempt to decipher who's at fault. Is it him?

Is it her? Over the course of the song, he'll attempt to answer this question by playing the blame game, as outlined by John Legend in the song's hook. He sings, let's play the blame game, I love you more, let's call out names, I hate you more. At its core, it's an expression of a love-hate relationship we've probably all experienced at some point in our lives. The internal confusing, tumultuous, unstable but strangely addictive bond, you once shared with someone you love and hate simultaneously. It's also yet another expression of the duality and dichotomy we've heard throughout the entire album. We've seen it manifested in heaven and hell, good and evil, love and lust, and now love and hate. Connie the Gemini is again caught between internal conflicting feelings.

an angel on one shoulder and the devil on the other. These conflicting emotions continue to surface as Connie enters with verse one. On the bathroom wall, it wrote I'd rather argue with you than to be with someone else. I took a piss and dismiss it like fuck it and I went and found somebody else. Fuck arguing I harvest in the feelings, yo, I'd rather be by my fucking self. Till about 2 a.m. and I call back and I ain't up and I start to blame myself. Connie finds himself in a bathroom scrawling an urban proverb on the wall. I'd rather argue with you than to be with someone else.

It's a poetic expression of his predicament, that whomever he's involved with is clearly incompatible, but his love for her makes it difficult to move on. It's interesting to point out that the previous song, Hell of a Life, ended with Connie's mini narrative about having sex in the bathroom, having a dance, and getting divorced or separated by the end of the night. Here, blame game begins in the bathroom, with Connie thinking about a past relationship. Of course, it's natural to wonder if Connie might be talking about the same woman, and these connecting threads and reoccurring environments are beginning to create an impressionistic,

fantastical environment on the latter half of Twisted Fantasy, as if we moved into some nameless recess of Connie's subconscious. Connie immediately abandons his own axiom, saying, I took a piss and dismiss it like fuck it, and I went and found somebody else. It's an impulsive decision fueled by his own melancholy, a defense mechanism to the sorrow and insecurity he feels when reminded of his ex-lover while using the bathroom. Immediately after proclaiming he'll find someone else, Connie contradicts himself once again. He says, fuck arguing and harvesting the feelings, yo I'd rather be by my fucking self.

Here he claims to want to be alone, not with the woman or any other woman for that matter. It's a hollow shrug-off of relationships altogether. Again, it's a sentiment we've probably all felt before. With the next lines, Connie finds a way to contradict himself yet again, saying, tell about 2 a.m. and I call back, and I hang up and I start to blame myself. Somebody help. These lines bring the verse full circle, back to Connie missing the girl, calling her, instantly regretting it, then hanging up. It's also an interesting callback to Devil in a new dress. If you'll remember, Connie and the sensation character met during the magic hour,

or the time right before last call at a club. It's during this time that those looking to hook up lower their standards, an act we interpreted as fueled by desperation and loneliness. On Blame Game, it would seem that the magic hour is having its effects again, leaving Connie so lonely that he impulsively calls his ex despite his claims to find someone else and just wanting to be alone. It's pretty clear at this point that Connie has no idea what he's doing or how he's feeling. After a performance of the song's hook,

Connie's conflicting feelings are ample. both thematically and sonically on verse 2. You're unperfect but you made life worth it. Stick around some real feelings might surface. Been a long time since I spoke to you in a bathroom gripping you up fucking and choking you. What the hell was I supposed to do? I know you ain't getting this type of dick from that local dude. And if you are, I hope you have a good time because I'd definitely be having mine.

You ain't gonna see ya. He begins verse two yet again in a public bathroom, saying, been a long time since I spoke to you in a bathroom, gripping you up, fucking and choking you. This is perhaps the flashback thought of passionate sex that sparked his bathroom nostalgia in verse one. It's again adding to the elasticity of time and space, a prismatic impression of Kanye's fragmented subconscious. He continues saying, I know you ain't getting this type of dick from that local dude.

And if you are, I hope you're having a good time, because I'd definitely be having mine. It's another jump cut of emotional vulnerability and jealousy met with a defense mechanism of causing hurt and his ex-lover. Connie belittles a woman's new man, calling him a local dude, someone beneath his celebrity's status, and rubs in her face all the women he slept with since they're split. As the verse continues, Connie's vacillating, fragmented psyche, and indeterminate emotions are expressed sonically. Connie's voice is suddenly chopped and divided into three distinct voices. One voice is detuned, that is lowered in pitch, and is hard-panned in our right speaker.

A second voice is also detuned and hard-panned in our left speaker. The third voice is Connie's unaltered voice sitting right in the middle of these two detuned voices. The effect is somewhat spastic, like voices in one's head. It's a disorienting listening experience as we attempt to follow Connie's erratic train of thoughts, deciphering fragments of his emotion and reasoning. Of course, this disjointed audio experience is calculated. meant to represent Connie's psyche and unhinged emotional state. Connie outlines the ugliness of the couple's post-breakup relationship.

He accuses the woman of slander as she tells her local dude how Connie physically abused her. The lines, you should be grateful and N-word like me ever noticed you. Now you noticeable and can't nobody get control of you. 1 a.m. and can't nobody get a hold of you. It would seem to be aimed directly at Amber Rose. As we outlined earlier, Amber was relatively unknown publicly before our relationship with Kanye, and Kanye feels disrespected now that the fame he provided has caused her become distant and unreachable. Of course, it's an extremely manipulative statement.

It implies the debt she owes him, an unwavering loyalty no matter how he may have mistreated her, which is a problematic way of thinking. Next, Kanye's desperation to find the woman causes him to call her brother. Kanye calls the woman's brother even though he knows he won't tell him anything. The conversation quickly disintegrates into conflict as Kanye says,

you all got dirt on each other like mud wrestlers. I heard he bought some COVID. with my money, that ain't right girl. You're getting blackmailed for that white girl. Connie here uses white girl as a cocaine metaphor, and it would seem that the woman's brother has been getting coke for his sister with Connie's money. Ultimately, Connie's attempt at receiving consolation from the woman's brother backfires and instead just causes more drama. Connie pivots out of this mini narrative with the line, you always said, Yeezy, I ain't your right girl. You'll probably find one of them, I like art type girls. We might suspect that this applies directly,

to Amber Rose. She's not artistic, and her inner city background and stripping leaves her insecure about her compatibility with a world-renowned artist like Kanye. Next, Connie says, All of the Lights, she was caught in the hype girl. As you've probably noticed, when Connie delivers the phrase, All of the Lights, he sings it in the same melody as his own song All the Lights we heard previously on the album. And if you'll remember, we interpreted the lights in that song as representative of fame, and it's used here on Blame Game in the same way. Also, like the bathroom reference on multiple songs, randomly quoting all the lights as yet another manipulation of time and space, contributing to what is becoming an increasingly

prismatic oral environment. The verse concludes with Kanye saying, Now Who's to Blame, You to Blame, Me to Blame for the pain, and it poured every time when it rained. This plays up the cliche when it rains, it pours. It would seem to represent Kanye and the woman's faltering relationship, that the smallest of conflicts always lead to the most tumultuous of shitstorms. Coming after the line who to blame for the pain, we can also imagine Rain as a metaphor for Kanye's tears as he mourns the death of their relationship. As the song continues, Connie turns to poetry for the words he's been unable to express himself.

Things used to be, not at night, anything but us is who we are. The skies in ourselves are secret lovers. We become public enemies. We walk away like strangers in the streets. Gone for eternity. We erase one another. So far from where we came. With so much of everything, how do we leave with nothing? Lack of visual empathy equates the meaning of L-O-V-E.

Hatred and attitude tear us entirely. Chloe Mitchell, let's play the plane. The passage Connie recites is taken from a poem called Your Bitter is My Sweet by Chloe Mitchell. At the time, Mitchell was 21 years old living in Harlem. and she'd been posting her writing on Tumblr. She told Earstyle how her poetry made it to Kanye and eventually Blame Game. Quote, my cousin Tiana Taylor is featured on the album,

so my mom had accompanied her to the studio one day. She wanted Connie to read something of mine to get his opinion because she feels I'm a genius. He read it and he loved it. It just molded perfectly like it was made specifically for Blame Game, unquote. And it's true. Mitchell's passage is full of juxtapositions and emotional dichotomy that aligns very well with Blame Games themes. Its blunt and focused tone contrasts with Connie's disorganized emotional meandering.

The effect is one of clarity, of crystallization, an expression of everything Connie wants to say but doesn't know how. Of course, this notion is extremely relatable. Who among us hasn't turned to art to a song or a book or a movie during a time of emotional distress? We find clarity of expression in art, and these timeless artifacts of human emotion provide a unique comfort during our lowest lows. Mitchell establishes the emotional dichotomy in a simple but beautiful and

completely precise opening line, things used to be now they're not. Later she contrasts the privacy and intimacy of a relationship with the public exposed nature of a bad breakup, saying, disguising ourselves as secret lovers, we've become public enemies. Later still comes another contrast of everything and nothing, as she states, with so much of everything, how do we leave with nothing? It expresses all too accurately the devastating and perplexing emptiness of separation. Avoid that, in the moment, is all-consuming and impossible to fill. The final lines of the poem again are built on duality. Mitchell constructs acronyms from the words love and hate.

L-O-V-E is represented as lack of visual empathy. Mitchell explained the meaning of this somewhat cryptic phrase on our blog saying, quote, Sometimes when people are in relationships, one person might love more than the other. people argue and may not understand just how much you love and care for them. You do anything for your significant other out of love and admiration. You stay in this relationship and your love is taken advantage of and underappreciated. Your love becomes something that is not fully understood or they refuse to.

That lack of understanding becomes the meaning of love in your relationship because you accept it to be just that, unquote. Mitchell's acronym for hate is hatred and attitude terrace entirely. And while Connie stops on this line in blame game, Mitchell's poem does continue, and because we're here, I'll go ahead and read the rest for you. Quote, we meet at opposite poles, and no longer can we bond like lovebirds to a song or flowers to a daisy. The air smells of rotten and burned hearts. We have trashed our overcooked love that now accompanies the bend of deceit. Don't turn around. Continue walking away. This appear into that darkness that rest upon your gritty shoulders. Let that

dark cloud follow you wherever you go. So long ex-lover, very well, unquote. It's really beautiful stuff. And it's interesting knowing now that the excerpt of Mitchell's poem featured on Blame Game is only a partial reading. Connie essentially approaches the poem like he would a song he samples, taking what he feels are the best or most purposeful sections for his own expression. Mitchell's poem provides clarity of thought in the middle of a song in which Connie is confused in searching for answers. And it's perhaps the poem that allows Connie to express his own feelings more accurately as he sings a moving, repetitive passage after a performance of the song's hook.

Chloe Mitchell, for sure. Let's call out names, names. I hate you, my heart. Let's call out names, names, for sure. I can't love you this much. I can't love you this much. I can't love you this much. I can't love you this much.

Connie's performance. No, I can't love you this much. I can't love you this much. Connie's performance of the hook is followed by a heartfelt passage in which he sings, I can't love you this much over and over again. It's yet another line built on dichotomy, and it's in my opinion Connie's most accurate expression of emotion on the entire song. It's the reason he's hurt, embittered,

remorseful, vengeful, conflicted, confused, depressed, and all the other complex emotions we feel after a bad breakup. He doesn't want to love her anymore, but he does, and he can't help it. It's a helplessness of feeling that we can all relate to. Who among us hasn't loved someone who treated us bad? And who among us hasn't treated bad someone we loved? The line, I can't love you this much, applies to the one who causes hurt, as well as the one who gets hurt. And it would seem Connie as both of those people simultaneously. Again, who among us can't relate. Next, Kanye re-enters the track to set up a skit in which the woman character

accidentally pocket or butt dials him, and Kanye overhears a conversation taking place between the woman and a man. And I know that you were somewhere doing your thing. And when the phone call, it just rang and rang. You ain't pick up, but your phone accidentally called me back, and I heard the whole thing. I heard the whole thing. Oh, my God. Baby, you don't took this shit to another motherfucking level.

Now, a neighborhood nigga like me ain't supposed to be getting no pussy like this. God damn! God damn! Who taught you how to get sexy for a nigga? Easy talk me. You never used to talk dirty, but now you're goddamn disgusting. My God! Where'd you learn that?

Easy talk me. Look at you, motherfucker. Of course, the male character in the skit is played by comedian Chris Rock. Avid hip-hop connoisseur in Kani-Stan, Rock jumped at the chance to be involved on the album. He told the New York Times, quote, I did that quicker than I read scripts that they offer me money to do. I thank him so much it probably freaks him out. Especially at this late date, to get on the album of the moment, that stuff is priceless.

You can't put a price tag on that. I felt invigorated by it, unquote. The skid itself was generated from a two-hour riff session rock had with Kanye in the Electric Ladyland studio in New York. While Connie's not on the record saying one way or the other, most assume the skid is specifically characterizing Amber Rose and a rebound no-name ex-boyfriend that she turns to after her and Kanye split. This ex-boyfriend is referenced as the quote-unquote local dude earlier in the song, and we

find him now naively emphatic about how much the woman has improved her sex game. Of course, Kanye takes credit for this improvement as the woman robotically repeats the now iconic phrase Yeezy taught me as the answer to all of his questions. As a skit moves on, the man continues to express his sexual admiration while also expressing how he's impressed by her new clothes and the birthday gift she gives him. I've never even seen it's like you got this shit re-aposted or some shit. What the fuck happened? Who the fuck got your pussy on read a poster? Easy re-posed it, my pussy.

You know what? I got to think easy. And when I see that nigga, I'm gonna thank him. I'm gonna buy the album. I'm gonna download that motherfucker. I'm gonna shoot a bootlegger. That's how good I feel about this nigga. Oh, I still can't believe you got me this watch. This motherfucker's the exact motherfucker I wanted.

With the bezel? I'm not sure this is the motherfucker I wanted, I saw this shit, I saw a twist that had this shit on in the sauce. I'm not sure we need a line-by-line analysis of this closing skit. And to be honest, I don't really know how to dissect comedy or what makes something funny or not. So I'm going to talk about the skit more generally. Like the majority of the song thus far, the skit is also built on dichotomy. On one hand, it's extremely funny to many of us. It also doesn't seem to take itself very seriously.

and you can even hear the woman character laugh as she says Yeezy rearpulster by pussy, which is of course just an absurd line. On the other hand, the skid is certainly rooted in vengeance. The local dude character is portrayed as a buffoon, as overly and naively enthusiastic. And more than anything else, the local dude is used to comment on and embarrass the woman. It implies where she be or who she's left with after party ways of Kanye.

It also implies that Kanye taught her everything she knows, that all the redeeming aspects of her life and personality are now because of Kanye and his influence. Of course, this is both untrue and incredibly narcissistic. And I think this is where we get to the real truth behind this skit. It's already been pretty clearly established since the end of the song Power that we've entered some fantastical world of Connie's imagination, and with each succeeding track on the album, we fall deeper and deeper into that fantasy. The album's previous track Hell of a Life was extensive proof of this.

Here on Blame Game, Connie is trying to answer a question he posed to himself in the opening moments of the track, whose fault? It's an incredibly hard question to ask yourself truly. If you're being completely honest with yourself, it's a question that has the potential to destroy you, to rip apart your core and expose all the facades you tell yourself to keep yourself sane. Throughout Blame game, you can hear Connie reckoning with himself and endless back and forth about who's to blame for his crumbling relationships. When he feels threatened or defecutive, defenseless, he pivots, blaming or insulting the woman, clearly a defense mechanism against vulnerability. And this psychological pivoting brings us back to the closing skit.

Connie has shown moments of weakness throughout the track, but the most vulnerable moment was certainly the line, I can't love you this much, sung over and over just before the elaborate skit. Rather than a literal phone call he hears after an accidental dial, it would seem to me that this phone call is an extravagant fantasy taking place in Connie's head, a fantasy he constructs to make himself feel better after the I Can't Love You This Much Passage. Kanye can't stand the thought of the woman being with someone else, so he makes the man non-threatening, an embarrassment, someone he can laugh at. And he makes a woman character more robotic than she is human with real thoughts and emotions. This is characterized by the

wind-up doll response she gives to every question she's asked. And of course, this also plays into Connie's fantastical defense mechanism. By making her less than human, she's defenseless against Connie's ridiculous narcissistic jabs, jabs that are again rooted in vulnerability. A real person could fight back, could call Connie out, could cause real hurt. It's clear Connie is far from ready for that kind of emotional exposure, so instead he constructs an elaborate fantasy to avoid his pain after one of the most vulnerable points on the album. So for me, yes, BlameGain's concluding skit is funny and cruel and narcissistic, but mostly it's just kind of sad. Conclusions. Who's fault?

Blame game begins with a sigh, a continuation of the loneliness that concluded the album's previous track, Hell of a Life, and is perhaps this emptiness that inspires the opening question posed at the beginning of Blame Game, whose fault? Kiney is taking stock of his crumbling relationship and looking for answers. He oscillates between blaming the woman and blaming himself, and by the song's end, we still don't really know who's at fault. It's a question Kani is simply incapable of answering at this point in his life. Emotionally drained and full of hurt, Connie inevitably dodges the question altogether,

and ends Blame Game with an extravagant fantasy that makes him feel good about himself. He constructs himself as the winner in a competition that no one cares about except his own ego. It's a win that's both short-sighted and short-lived, as the album's next and final track is far from a triumphant victory dance we'd assume we'd hear from a winner. Of course, I'm down in a still to slow down the time. Of course, we're talking about the song Lost in the World, the Eye of the Storm that is Kanye's life, which will thoroughly discuss next time on Dysect.

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