Numerous scholars have identified hip-hop as rooted in the practice of storytelling.1 Nelson George describes rap ‘as a showcase for the art of verbal dexterity and storytelling’, while Tricia Rose has discussed its ‘ability to use the powerful tradition of black oration and storytelling to render stylistically compelling music’.2 We hope to contribute to an understanding of the hip-hop singer-songwriter by revealing Kanye West’s lyrical and musical strategies as aligned with the characteristics of the singer-songwriter genre: hence, we consider how he communicates about life experiences and delivers social commentaries; we trace numerous social themes and concerns at the core of his lyrical expression throughout his work; we examine how he creates an intimate space through his musical expression and recording practices; and we discuss how he uses technology as his instrument in order to develop innovative vocal and sonic expressive strategies.
Throughout his career, West has consistently engaged with the themes of fame and celebrity, the music industry, consumerism, class and race. Some tracks develop these themes in a ‘braggadocio’ style (e.g., ‘Good Life’), while others reveal his struggle with the negative consequences of fame (e.g., ‘Everything I Am’). Our aim is to examine how West communicates his social messages with a sense of immediacy by means of innovative musical strategies and technologies. We also aim to illustrate how West extends and deepens his cultural critique of fame, consumer culture, race and class through these same strategies and technologies. More specifically, our analysis focuses on his much-acclaimed work in the domain of sampling and production where we see him connecting closely and intimately with the process. West’s work has been widely received as innovative in terms of how it expands the conventions of hip-hop production. In what follows, we concentrate on his selection of samples as well as their manipulation in the context of his song structure, design, and expression.3
After gaining success as a producer (notably on Jay-Z’s 2001 album The Blueprint), West became a rapper in 2002. Damon Dash, the CEO of Roc-A-Fella, found it hard to imagine marketing West as a rapper.4 In addition to his style of dress, his middle-class upbringing set him apart from many MCs.5 As Jay-Z states, ‘We all grew up street guys who had to do whatever we had to do to get by. Then there’s Kanye, who to my knowledge has never hustled a day in his life. I didn’t see how it could work.’6 Insofar as mainstream rap has tended to construct itself in opposition to bourgeois norms and values, it has in the past eschewed ‘preppy’ suburban images like West’s while celebrating more ‘street-based’ images such as those of Jay-Z. While West could not position himself as a ‘gangsta’, his injury from a serious car accident became a tale of struggle on the track ‘Through The Wire’ (the first single from The College Dropout, 2004).7 At an early point in his career, this track revealed his own lived experience of aspiring for fame and acceptance.
For our analysis of a track from this early period, we have chosen the first single from Late Registration. ‘Diamonds From Sierra Leone’ – which samples Shirley Bassey’s performance of John Barry and Don Black’s ‘Diamonds are Forever’ (1971) – is a self-critical examination of celebrity and consumerism, while the video linked to the 2006 film Blood Diamond uses the material to confront the damaging effects of the diamond trade.
A turning point in his career, the album 808s & Heartbreak (2008) stands out as a break with hip-hop conventions. West relies heavily on the Auto-Tune device and a singing style instead of a typical MC rap delivery. At the same time, the songs are arranged for the iconic 808 drum machine, creating a sparse texture and sense of longing and nostalgia for 1980s hip-hop.8 From this album, we analyse ‘Welcome to Heartbreak’, a track that shows the subject to be struggling with the damaging effects of fame on his personal life.
West’s 808s provoked a strong critical response in the entertainment media.9 When questioned about his decision to sing instead of rap, he defended his creation of a melodic album:
I always knew that the melody drives the record so much; if you think about my biggest records, ‘Stronger’, ‘Gold Digger’, ‘Diamonds are Forever’, ‘Good Life’, they always had that [sings melodic line]. And this was the big thing that connected internationally, the reason why I’m one of the big artists, because they’re always gonna get that melody. And I was like … I’m just gonna make it be all melody.10
Not only does the album feature singing rather than rapping, it also relies much less on sampling than his previous work – a stylistic feature that did not go unnoticed by reviewers.11 West explains this feature:
this album doesn’t have a lot of like labels on it or samples, things to stand next to it, to say, hey I’m cool ‘cause I down [sic] with that funk … But to be able to … write outright songs and melodies, it’s just a greater challenge, because you’re not standing on all of these things that make you cool and stuff, it’s really like a naked approach … And I think the song-writing, to have melody in it, makes it more powerful at the end of the day.12
Invoking the notion that the album is ‘made from scratch’13 West distances himself from sampling, despite its foundational role in hip-hop musical expression.14 He thus positions himself as the sole creator of the music, invoking singer-songwriter authenticity. He goes so far as to declare 808s as the forerunner of an original genre: ‘iTunes didn’t choose to use it, but the genre for this sound is called pop art. That’s what I want it to say on iTunes: pop art.’15 Continuing this line of thinking in a New Zealand press conference, he claims that ‘I’m delivering art in its purest form … I think that everything that I deliver is fully art, it is sonic art, and this is my project and I believe there are songs on it that will affect culture, which is the end goal of a true pop artist’.16 With comments such as these, West communicates an intense desire to connect with his audience on his terms and extend his cultural reach.
Emerging out of the 808s period of genre experimentation, West’s fifth and sixth albums, My Beautiful Dark Twisted Fantasy (2010; hereafter MBDTF) and Yeezus (2013), feature a range of expressive styles, from aggressive rapping to melodic Auto-Tuned singing. While West maintained creative control, forty-two people were involved in the songwriting, recording, and production of MBDTF.17 Critics observed the influence of West’s previous styles on MBDTF: ‘In some ways, it’s the culmination of Kanye West’s first four albums, but it does not merely draw characteristics from each one of them. The 13 tracks … sometimes fuse them together simultaneously.’18 His sampling references on the album are diverse, from soul (Smokey Robinson in ‘Devil in a New Dress’) to progressive rock (King Crimson in ‘Power’) to indie folk (Bon Iver in ‘Lost In the World’). While the album moves beyond hip-hop conventions to experiment with diverse genres and electronic textures, it still holds mainstream appeal. West himself indicated that it contained ‘songs that are blatant radio hits, it’s like I’m speaking with today’s texture’.19
By contrast, West has stated that his intention with Yeezus was to create an album that stood out within the genre: ‘I feel I was able to start making exactly what was in my mind, again. And not having to speak with the textures of the time.’20 In comparing the two albums, West stated: ‘Dark Fantasy can be considered to be perfect. I know how to make perfect, but that’s not what I’m here to do. I’m here to crack the pavement and make new grounds sonically and in society, culturally.’21 MBDTF’s extensive genre reach is also evident on Yeezus, as West expands his sonic palette into minimalist textures and industrial sounds. Intense electronic sounds are underpinned by samples from artists as diverse as Nina Simone (jazz), Capleton (reggae), and Omega (progressive rock).22 From Yeezus, we have chosen ‘Black Skinhead’ for its dark and oppositional statement on racism in the music industry.
For each of the three chosen tracks, we analyse lyrics, music and video images. In order to respect the narrative flow of our chosen tracks, our analyses are presented sequentially, in order to capture the listener’s experience of the song’s narrative flow, sonic events and vocal expressive strategies.
‘Diamonds From Sierra Leone’, Late Registration (2005)
West’s sampling of ‘Diamonds Are Forever’ is a straightforward example of his early song production.23 Bassey’s chorus, which extols the enduring quality of diamonds in comparison to the fragility of romantic love, is integrated as the chorus of West’s song. Her chorus is juxtaposed with his rapped lyrics, which draw the listener into a reflection on his financial success and burgeoning career status. Not only does he describe the effects of his commercial success (i.e., a reference to his Porsche), he also refers to several negative public events, culminating in an account of his disappointing loss at the 47th Annual Grammy Awards, where the track ‘Through the Wire’ did not receive the award for Best Rap Solo Performance. Interestingly, ‘Diamonds from Sierra Leone’ would go on to receive the Grammy for Best Rap Song the following year.
The title of the sampled song conveys multiple meanings in relation to the themes that West explores: 1) ‘Diamonds’ are the material subject of his critique of the ‘blood diamond’ trade in the music video; 2) ‘Diamonds’ also stand as a symbol for success, a central theme in West’s song; 3) The diamond is the iconic symbol for Roc-A-Fella Records;24 4) In the lyrics, diamonds stand for the songs that he produces; and 5) The chorus hook, ‘Diamonds Are Forever’, invokes longevity, a status that West implicitly claims in this song. Developing these themes, West offers a multi-layered exploration of their iconic and symbolic meanings.
West’s track begins with a sampled passage from the original song’s introduction [00:09–00:34]. Maintaining its majestic texture, the vocal is prominent and lush, while the brass jabs are softened through the effects of reverb. At the first statement of West’s chorus [00:15–00:34], his voice is more forward, and the Bassey sample is further back in the mix. In the passage from Bassey’s final outro [02:14–02:34], she repeats ‘forever’ in a motivic leap from B3 to F♯4, and then rises to a climactic high C5 that resolves to B4. The C major–B minor progression that supports Bassey’s resolution stands out as an expressively marked Phrygian II, occurring in the song whenever the lyrics refer to the darker side of romance (‘desertion’, ‘hurt’, ‘lies’, ‘death’). As Bassey resolves to B, a majestic trombone line rises to a C♯ as an added ninth over the closing B minor tonic.
West maintains the powerful brass line beneath Bassey’s final resolution, as well as the active groove of the hi-hat, however he adds a deep synthetic bass kick and a high harpsichord sound as downbeat accents. In addition to these textural enhancements, he manipulates the original phrase to intensify his own chorus. In response to Bassey’s repetition of the word ‘forever’, he repeats ‘ever’ in a series of rising statements [00:26–00:33], culminating in his own strained B3.25 The rise in vocal pitch (unusual for an MC in 2005), the harmonic progression, and the instrumental gestures allow West to reach a peak of intensity at the end of his chorus. In his treatment of the final cadence we hear Bassey’s C–B resolution, but the sample fades before we can hear the trombone’s dissonant C♯. Instead, West introduces a high harpsichord gesture that lands on the C♯ as a downbeat accent to the beginning of the ensuing verse.
As he develops his song structure, West intensifies the standard verse–chorus alternation by disrupting the chorus that follows verse 2: although Bassey’s chorus begins as expected, West presses onwards with his rap, leading directly into verse 3 in a seamless lyric delivery. The extended verse section (i.e., verse 2 – disrupted chorus – verse 3) allows the uninterrupted rap flow to build in intensity [01:34 – 03:13], the emerging story beginning with an account of his father taking him to church, then shifting to a concern for the quality of songs (‘diamonds’) that are being mass-produced. West’s juxtaposition of Bassey’s chorus hook with his emotionally charged rap creates a formal tension that disrupts the rhetorical effect of the chorus; that is, while Bassey’s chorus is directed towards a climactic resolution, West’s rap intensifies and denies resolution in its own rhetorical sphere. The final verse leads to a close with West asserting his power as a songwriter and producer. The song ends with a chorus and outro that features West repeating his insistent harpsichord gesture.
The music video for ‘Diamonds from Sierra Leone’ (directed by Hype Williams) juxtaposes images from the diamond mines with an up-scale diamond store. An elegantly dressed West is seen on the streets of Prague and inside an ornate church. The Porsche that is mentioned in the lyrics appears as a visual emblem of wealth, not only his own as a successful artist, but also implicitly the kind of wealth that emerges from the diamond trade. The video climaxes when West drives the Porsche, with a child labourer as his passenger, into the window of the diamond store. They jump from the vehicle before crashing and run away with a group of other children. The video closes with the running group (including West), heading into the church, creating a narrative of resistance and liberation for the child labourers. A second image of West as performer concludes the song at the harpsichord, suggesting that he remains caught up in the performance world.
With this track, West invites his listeners to engage with a complex intersection of words, music and images. Lyrically, the song introduces and interrogates events in West’s professional life that have shaped his media reception. Musically, he creates a dialogue between his voice and Bassey’s sampled voice. For West as a hip-hop producer, the lush production values of the original track become the instrument over which he develops his own dynamic expression. His unconventional modes of vocalisation and intensification of the musical form are heard in relation to the repetitive sampling of the original song. The images of the video situate his struggles with fame in a larger social context as he confronts the economic inequalities bound up with the ‘blood diamond’ trade. The lyrics, music, and video images intersect to convey West’s social critique of consumer culture: although the lyrics point to a self-reflexive or ‘internal’ modality, the video reveals his understanding of the external forces that drive the cultural phenomena of interest to him.
‘Welcome to Heartbreak’, 808s & Heartbreak (2008)
This song offers a meditation on life’s dreams and values in the face of the challenges of fame and commercial success. In the form of an intimate communication, West’s lyrical narrative expresses the isolation that the subject experiences as a result of his celebrity lifestyle. Symbols of wealth (‘sports cars’ and ‘cribs’) are juxtaposed with symbols of family life (‘report cards’).26 The introspective dialogue is continued in the chorus by guest vocalist Kid Cudi who sings about a vision of ‘real’ life that the famous individual can dimly perceive as though through a fog.27
West sculpts a sonic texture and vocal melody that reinforces the lyrical self-reflection. A dark and slow-moving 8-bar phrase in the cello is metrically ambiguous until the entry of the kick and Taiko drums in the last bar. The full instrumental arrangement is established in the second phrase, featuring a pitch-modulated synth bass on the cello melody, the kick on beats 1 and 3, a distorted backbeat snare crash, running rim shots creating a ‘ticky’ groove, and an active keyboard that develops motives from the cello melody. As the first verse explores his longing for fatherhood, the subject’s emotional emptiness is reinforced by a mechanical and distant but reverberant vocal. The keyboard drops out, leaving a hollow space between the low bass, the high synth wash, and the aggressive backbeat snare. West’s voice occupies this space in an Auto-Tuned delivery that masks his natural sung expression. The delay effects at the tail of each phrase create a stark contrast to the strident backbeat snare. West’s overt critique of the celebrity lifestyle is delivered in a vocal style that maintains a connection to the conventions of rap by centring his vocal delivery on the tonic, but departs from rap by sustaining his pitches in a singing tone. He infuses the limited melodic range with expressive tension and a sense of directionality by moving to the second and third degrees of the G-Aeolian scale (A and B♭) and treating these as tendency tones that descend to the G tonic.
The dark soundscape of West’s verse contrasts with Kid Cudi’s gently sung chorus vocals, which are overdubbed at a higher pitch level, phased, and split to the left and right channels. In the centre of the mix, West’s strained, high-pitched ‘ooo’ emerges, a full octave higher than his verse. The lyrics, when combined with West’s intensified vocal expression, communicate a sense of urgency around the subject’s need to change his life.
After a second verse and chorus, the bridge offers a dramatic vocal intensification as West leaps to a higher register and is accompanied by a string arrangement. His vocal line symbolises his frustration and resignation by opening the phrase with the high-pitched plaintive call (a leap to F4), but closing with the familiar gesture to the low G3 tonic. In contrast to the intensity of the bridge, verse 3 offers a sparse texture as the percussion drops out and a low synth wash reinforces the loneliness expressed by the lyrics. As he describes being late for his sister’s wedding, the contrast between the subject’s affective landscape and that of his sister drives home the alienation that characterises his existence. The outro and final chorus communicate a desperate and sorrowful sentiment of being trapped in this lifestyle, as West repeats the lyrics, ‘No, I can’t stop’.
The video portrays an image of West, trapped by the symbols of celebrity status, struggling to unmask himself. The video, directed by Nabil Elderkin,28 is characterised by a post-production technique referred to as ‘data moshing’, which maintains the outline and shape of a subject within an image, but transforms the figure with a mixture of colour and design elements from the background using pixel bleeding.29 In this process, the lines between the body (what is ostensibly real) and the background become blurred and, at times, erased, as in the effect of camouflage; bodies and faces are masked and merged.30 In the context of this particular music video, data moshing becomes a visual complement to the audio interference created by the Auto-Tune device, which, in turn, depicts the subject’s struggle with his own fame and materialism. The result is a simultaneous manipulation of image and sound that compels the audience to question what is seen and heard. Thematically, the video treats and represents data moshing and sound interference as technological ‘problems’ that connote disconnection and resonate with the theme of alienation. The video is also characterised by its use of numerous effects associated with television, for instance, distortion, light flickering, pixilation and the colour test pattern. At the bridge section, which is also the climax of the video, West breaks through the glass of a television screen and the screen dimensions change from wide-screen video format to traditional television proportions. These television mediation strategies emphasise the artifice of a materialist society, and point to the complexities of authenticity as they relate to media exposure.
With this track, West tells a story about the damaging effects of celebrity status. Musically, he breaks from rap’s norms by featuring a sung vocal presentation, underscoring the emotional lyrics, and mediating his voice through the Auto-Tune device, further depersonalising the artist and distancing the individual from the deeply personal and contemplative lyrics. This becomes readily apparent in the video where West and Kid Cudi fade in and out of existence through the art of data moshing. The vulnerability expressed by West on this track, and on 808s as a whole, represents a marked departure from hip-hop’s musical and cultural norms.
‘Black Skinhead’, Yeezus (2013)
This track references a number of significant rock songs: Marilyn Manson’s industrial rock track, ‘The Beautiful People’ (1996); Gary Glitter’s glam rock track, ‘Rock and Roll’ (1972); and Depeche Mode’s alternative rock track, ‘Personal Jesus’ (1990).31 Building upon these references, West offers a harsh and frank commentary on American racial and religious politics in relation to the hip-hop industry. He criticises the hypocrisy of the mainstream audience, as his race is held up as both an attraction and a threat. Popular culture is criticised for its portrayal of the black man as an enforcer (‘goon’). In the face of condemnation for his behaviours and artistic work, he insists upon his work’s integrity (‘I’ve been a menace … but I’m devoted’). He resists a religion-based censorship with the assertion of his status, turning religious symbolism on itself (‘I’m aware I’m a King, back out of the tomb’). Taking on the accusation that he is ‘possessed’, he reinforces this notion by identifying with the figure of the wolf, and with the power of the Roman army, which West conflates with the Spartans, as portrayed in the film 300.32
The track opens in a manner reminiscent of the Marilyn Manson track with the highly distorted 2-bar guitar riff (left and right) that is answered by the galloping 4-bar kit phrase. A reverberant floor tom, tuned low, is heard in stark contrast to the white noise effect of the crash cymbal and the heavy thud of the bass drum. The second phrase ushers in a dryer ambiance, and incorporates rhythmic breathing, the heavy kick, resonant toms, and backbeat handclaps in a gesture that invokes Glitter’s rhythmic shuffle and call, as well as Depeche Mode’s rhythmic breathing. These sounds appear to travel unpredictably across the stereophonic spectrum, creating a ‘chaotic’ effect. For instance, during the passage [00:17 – 00:25], we hear the abrupt cutting off of the sound to create the feeling of stopped breath, distant ululations to the left and right, crisp toms panned hard to the left, as well as a mechanical wipe that is heard to the right. To close this introductory section, the distorted guitar riff returns for the last two bars, once again split left and right. With this introduction, West appears to contrast natural sounds with mechanical effects: the breathing, handclapping and ululations communicate at the level of embodied human expression, while the crisp drums, distorted guitar, and mechanical effects suggest a harsh industrial context. The breathing draws the listener in, creating a sense of intimacy, while the distorted and mechanical instrumental sounds create a sense of urgency leading into the first verse.
During his rapped verse, West uses a variety of strategies to create lyrical emphasis. His opening line, ‘For my theme song’, is doubled and panned, creating a sense of depth and breadth. As the verse continues, his line is centred, highly articulate, and quite dry (minimal reverb). Around his voice we hear the active kick drum and snare in a shuffle pattern (centred), the panned ululations and wipe, and accented interjections of a centred mechanical voice saying ‘black’. The latter vocal effect creates a ‘dehumanised’ voice in relation to West’s main vocal. As he describes the danger of a black man being seen with a white woman, expressed through a reference to King Kong, the distorted guitar riff returns and creates a strident counterpoint against his rapped vocal line.
The chorus features a sudden bass drop, with a low F♯ that is repeated on the downbeat for four bars against West’s intense vocal delivery. Given the sparse texture, the sharp intake of breath is an audible effect at the end of each bar-long vocal phrase. The lyrical content here conveys urgency (‘They say I’m possessed’) and hyper-sexuality (‘Three hundred bitches, where’s the Trojans?’). For the second set of four bars, the galloping drum and cymbal pattern returns, as well as the ululations, while West’s vocal rises in spoken pitch and intensity, his final line accentuated by a vocal call (‘ah’), which arrives on the downbeat of the next phrase. This vocal call ushers in an after-chorus phrase of eight bars, in which a reverberant call – treated with a delay effect – is heard in relation to West’s desperate responses (‘I’m outta control’).
The after-chorus leads to a return of the distorted guitar riff and a repeat of the chorus, followed by verse 2, chorus, after-chorus, and final outro. The outro is based on the guitar riff over which we hear West’s repeated statement, ‘God’. The riff-based formal structure of this song is worth noting for West’s mobilisation of a form derived from rock; with this structure, and with the references to industrial rock, alternative rock, and glam rock, West once again extends hip-hop practices.
West’s ‘Black Skinhead’ video, filmed by photographer Nick Knight, focuses primarily on West, with his body treated to a variety of production and post-production effects. The black and white video opens with the image of three black Ku Klux Klan-inspired hoods. As the image zooms in on these hoods, their white background becomes a frame for the ensuing video scenes, creating the effect of ‘teeth’ around the images. Immediately following the three KKK figures, we see the eyes and mouths of three vicious dogs, whose mouths are sometimes shown throughout the video in extreme close-up.
The film focuses on the torso of Kanye West through a variety of camera angles, perspectives, and fragmentations that encourage the fetishisation of his body. We see a talc-covered (thus whitened) torso, a computer-modified image of West wearing a heavy gold chain, a metallic monster, a possessed figure with glowing eyes, a tribal figure with sub-dermal implants, and a hulk figure, with exaggerated musculature. As we examine the bodies from all angles, we discover that the figure with the sub-dermal implants also bears scars from a whip on his back. With these images, West exposes and positions himself in a variety of representations, suggesting that if we want to consume his image, he can become whatever we wish him to be: the hip-hop artist in black leather jeans and heavy gold chain, the muscular body who remains faceless, or the tribal body, bearing the scars of slavery. During the final section of the song (at the repetition of the word ‘God’), the camera remains fixed upon a faceless head and torso with gold chain. To close, the black hoods return and the eyes from several hoods meet the spectator’s gaze. In this final shot, there is no white background, so the only light on the screen is that which emanates from the eyes.
In the lyrical domain, ‘Black Skinhead’ communicates a message of resistance to fame, scrutiny, and censorship, while in the visual domain, the images of West’s fetishised body appear to pose a fundamental contradiction: instead of creating images that resist the all-consuming gaze of the spectator, West invokes the stereotypes and mythologies around African American masculinity. And yet, the aggression of the images and the resistance of the lyrics combine with the urgent industrial aesthetic of the music to establish that this video is not meant to pander to, but rather to challenge, the mainstream. By positioning himself at the centre of his cultural commentary, West forces his viewers to witness that the social norms, values, and logics constituting the mainstream consumption of hip-hop are underpinned by racist representations of the black man as monstrous spectacle, rooted in and haunted by a particularly American iconography of slavery.
Conclusions
Many hip-hop artists are storytellers. Their narratives can be personal and convey a sense of intimacy to the listener, while their music is often driven by social and political concerns in narratives referred to as ‘conscious rap’.33 This analysis of Kanye West’s work is offered as a case study of the hip-hop artist as singer-songwriter. Our analysis suggests that West portrays intimate personal experiences in the context of broader commentaries on largescale social issues. Throughout his career, he has consistently focused on themes of race, gender, class, fame, and consumer culture, writing himself into the stories in order to contextualise his own lived experiences within larger political contexts.
This chronological approach, has enabled us to track a shift in both tone and content across West’s work. The first three albums explore his initial desire for and gradual accumulation of fame. His fourth album offers an anxious reflection on the damaging effects of fame, characterised by increasing isolation and despair. With his fifth and sixth albums, West embarks on a harsh critique of race and class in relation to American consumerism and the music industry.
We have also interpreted West’s musical contributions in relation to the singer-songwriter tradition of forging distinctive vocal and instrumental strategies. As a singer and producer, West manipulates his strategically chosen samples to yield new meanings in the domains of lyrics and music, creating complex and multi-dimensional social commentaries. In his role as singer-songwriter, he challenges dominant hip-hop conventions, extending traditions by sampling materials from a range of styles and genres, and by expanding the modes of hip-hop vocality to include melodic vocals and Auto-Tune technology. Ultimately, these strategies serve to create a dynamic musical expression that encourages immediacy between artist and listener.
