"Celebration", too, is a busy, empty exercise in, well, celebrating.īarring those two tracks, and a few innocuous if unnecessary skits about a fraternity for the financially impaired called Broke Phi Broke, the rest is aces. It also presumes that anyone still cares about Brandy, who sounds like she's recording her voice through a Cuisinart. The album's worst track, "Bring Me Down", overwhelms with silly orchestral pomp, courtesy of Brion. "Diamonds From Sierra Leone (Remix)" offers some admirable if dubious political grandstanding, but as with every colossal undertaking, you gotta pay the cost to be the boss. Only "Roses" delivers the endearing sentimentality of "Jesus Walks" or "Family Business". Unlike the "great" hip-hop releases of yore, the productions here are so insistent that even a charismatic voice like West's can become an afterthought. All this to go along with curious shouts from two conflicted giants, Jay and Nas, who hang like specters over the album. Even Houston's Paul Wall manages to fit "illuminate," "insinuate," and "caterpillar" into 16 bizarre bars on the woozy "Drive Slow". To his credit and detriment he continues to surround himself with superior MCs like Common (on the sober "My Way Home"), impressive newcomer Lupe Fiasco (Just Blaze's life-affirming "Touch the Sky"), and the ineffable Cam'Ron, who continues his magical run with savant-like witticisms on "Gone". On the mic, West sounds sharper and more battle-tested, though he'll never have the effortless insouciance of Jigga or teeth-gritting religiosity of Nas. By opening the studio to admired colleagues, he's allowed himself room to think even bigger than the multi-tracked "Jesus Walks". Could Kanye have single-handedly fused the showboating old school boom bap of "We Major" with its build-it-up and watch it all fall down production without Brion or co-producer Waryn Campbell? Not likely. Where would "Crack Music", a blustery martial stomp, be without its soaring choir and biblically extended outro? Probably somewhere on the Game's album.
The Brion redux inserts a moaning vocoder, tin pan alley drums, a xylophone solo, and cascading synth coda, all without mucking up the heart in the middle.įlashes like this surround the sometimes urbane, often cheeky West with a new resonance. The song is traditionally purty, dominated by handclaps and a flittering sample of Donal Leace's "Today Won't Come Again" basically a trad-Kanye production. A case in point is "Hey Mama", a track that leaked more than a year ago. What the former Fiona Apple maestro brings to the proceedings, aside from a conductor's wand and a smile, is the ability to inflate and infuse West's ideas with even more life.
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Without Brion, this album probably sounds a lot like its predecessor, The College Dropout- full of tough horns, jacked soul, and flashes of brilliance. With the help of co-producer Jon Brion, West has taken his jumbled personae, buoyant enthusiasm, and vision for the grandiose, and transformed his chattering, seemingly unrealistic ideas into an expansive, imperfect masterpiece.
The sprawling Late Registration is the year's most accomplished rap album, and in turn, he's done something that his heroes- the Pharcyde and Nas, and father figure Jay-Z- couldn't do: deliver on a promise the second time around. That said, at the end of the day, it's his ear, a golden instrument, and his adventurous collaborative spirit that have made him the most fully formed artist of his genre. That's the reason he landed on "Oprah" and the cover of Time Magazine last week, rather than 50 Cent or Nelly or Slug. His self-importance is obvious, but the arrogance that comes pre-packaged with his insecurity is what makes West the most interesting hip-hop figure of the past five years.
Those who claim Kanye West's antics hinder his work are missing the point. Contrary to popular opinion, hubris does have a righteous appeal.
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