The Makings of a Man

Only Kanye West would have an album cover like this.

Kanye West is ready to celebrate again, but not in the way many come to expect. My Beautiful Dark Twisted Fantasy is not casually titled. West’s fifth studio album is a sinister, orchestral, hugely pompous affair that owes as much to the artist's self-aggrandizing ego as to the voracious id that would destroy it publicly (yes step your vocabulary up).

Exhibit A: West to album cover portraitist George Condo: "Look, I'm a let you finish, but can you make me look even douchier?"

West is without question a prince among narcissists. He has never been afraid to marvel at, pose questions to, or generally bask in the inner folds of his psyche, but there was only one way to interpret the early message sent by "Runaway." He calls himself an asshole, in the chorus of an epic, piano-driven single. My Beautiful Dark Twisted Fantasy is filled with similar moments, as if West is working from a checklist of his faults. Workaholic. Commitment-phobe. Loose cannon. Substance abuser.

On "Dark Fantasy," the album's opening track, he raps:

"The plan was to drink until the pain over / But what's worse, the pain or the hangover? / Fresh air, rolling down the window / Too many Urkels on your team, that's why your Wins-low."

See what he did there? Loss becomes win.

My Beautiful Dark Twisted Fantasy, West’s rather complex drama -- an extrovert's attempt to invert what's internal -- wouldn't work so well without an equally complicated score, or with one that simply contrasted his increasingly greater vision-of-self against triumphant rant.
This album's production is loud and proud, but also poignant and gripping that always hinting at some looming danger. You can hear it in those tempering first moments -- where Nicki Minaj delivers a cracked fairytale rap over a chorus of angels and demons -- and also in the closer, "Who Will Survive in America," which samples, at length, Gil Scott-Heron oratory about the death of a nation's blind idealism (or perhaps West's).

The tracks in-between is just as dark, twisted, and beautiful. There's "Power," a contemplation on fame and obsolescence that cleverly quotes King Crimson's "21st Century Schizoid Man." "All of the Lights," wrangles everyone from Elton John to Rihanna to help tell a story about a man whose selfishness drives his family away. "Lost in the World," transforms Bon Iver's melancholic "Woods" into a perversely bright experimental dance track. My Beautiful Dark Twisted Fantasy is not a flawless album. Too many songs dash around or hover past the six-minute mark. The guest list on posse cuts "Monster" and "So Appalled" could've been pared down. West could've skipped the three-minute solo on "Runaway" altogether.

From the looks of things, West is not claiming to be flawless anymore. He's trying to make a masterpiece. Trying to be honest with us. Trying to be honest with himself. Trying to figure out if he's closer to God or to something else entirely. Far more important than his aim, however, is the fact that he tries at all. The Grammy’s, the platinum packs, the tickets stub from all the arenas he's rocked -- they aren't laurels to be rested on. They're a jagged, unbalanced bed that West could spend a lifetime squirming over, perhaps finding only 60 or so minutes of thorny comfort at a time. That's eternally daunting news for him. But for us, it's a blessing.

Rating: 9 out of 10