I’m slowly coming out of my annual end of year hibernation (mandated by state law in 37 of the 50 United States to give folks a chance to recover from my endless babbling during the traditional “best of” list) and had a chance to watch the new documentary on Kanye, jeen-yuhs. The three-part doc is streaming on Netflix and it focuses primarily on a yet to explode Kanye as captured by filmmaker/friend Coodie who was given basically unfettered access to film anything and everything going on at the time.
To situate you in the chronology of Ye, at this point Kanye had established himself as a coveted producer of beats (it picks up right after he’s done “H to the Izzo” for Jay-Z), but the film shows a restless, relentless Ye dissatisfied with the newfound success as he struggles to record his debut album as a rapper (NOT a rapper/producer, a label we see him bristle at when someone tries to pay him a compliment (“that’s like calling someone the ‘best kid rapper.'”)) This struggle encompasses the majority of the first two parts and shows a number of exhilarating moments in the process — seeing Mos Def literally jawdropped after trading verses with Kanye backstage (planting the seeds of what would become “Two Words.”) Seeing Pharrell leave the room, mind blown after hearing “Through the Wire” for the first time (and then coming back to give some incredibly encouraging/heartfelt feedback.) Seeing his mom pause and grin, tongue in teeth, after she’s name checked in “Hey Mama” (having just rapped the song line for line with Kanye prior to that point.)
It smashes some serious nostalgia nerves as you remember not only how good his music used to be — how many “oh SH$%” moments his music used to generate on a regular basis, often several times in a single song let alone the entire album — but also what it was like to hear these things for the first time. Before he got enormous, before everything he did was (or tried to be) a Historic Event. It was just about the songs and being heard. Saying something profound or memorable because he was being sincere, not because he was trying to. (The latest Kanye kerfuffle over killing a Claymation Pete Davidson in his video being just the latest evidence of Kanye thinking he is the smartest and/or funniest person in the room at all times and what happens when one/both of those are no longer true.)
And it’s because we’re seeing this Kanye that the film resonates emotionally. You feel his frustration (and maybe a little judging scorn) when the too cool/indifferent New Yorkers around him cannot be troubled to listen to his music. (Chicago doesn’t have rap – New York has rap. Why don’t you go back to the cornfield, little boy?) The scenes of him literally going door to door at Roc a Fella records, coopting the inhabitant’s stereo to put on his demos and rap at them, are both wrenching and inspiring as they are completely unimpressed — time after time after time. You feel the momentary embarrassment when Scarface calls him out for putting his retainers on the studio desk (he’s constantly taking them out to rap at people — usually unsolicited — which becomes something of a running joke early on) before the chest-thumping joy at leaving him almost speechless after listening to the first verse of “Family Business.” (Seeing him shaking his head, quietly muttering “Incredible…” is one of the high points of the film for me.)
And you feel a fraction of the pain he must have felt after losing his mother so suddenly. His mom was one of the biggest surprises here, not having seen much of her previously — but to see the pair’s incredibly close relationship, to see her immense pride and how visibly happy it made him every time they were together, to see how her words and advice cut through in a way that not many others’ seemed to. She seemed like a remarkable woman and it makes you wonder how much of the unraveling in recent years was due to her premature passing. (Her reaction to hearing Kanye bought an expensive piece of new jewelry instead of a house was hilarious — initial motherly disappointment over a wasteful/unnecessary purchase, until she sees it in person and then LOOOOOOVES it.) Almost every scene she’s in is warmed by her presence and it’s after her death that you start to see things coming apart.
This part of the Ye timeline is handled by the third piece of the documentary and it’s almost unwatchable by the end. There’s the Taylor Swift incident, the nonsense with Trump, the presidential run, the dive into religious proselytizing, the insatiable egomania and increasingly incoherent diatribes. Compressed into the final 90 min you forget just how many eye-rolling, concerning episodes there have been over the years and how numbed to them we’ve become. Two scenes stand out from this span — one a slightly joking encounter where Rhymefest calls Kanye out for referring to himself as a genius (“that’s for somebody else to call you — who are you to call yourself a genius?!” he asks when Kanye is offended someone didn’t call him one). Kanye sort of laughs the exchange off, but you can tell this is when the ego is starting to run more unchecked than previously in the film and it causes some concern. (Like seeing a truck picking up speed downhill and swerving towards a playground.)
The other is when Kanye’s giving one of his non-sensical rants to a room full of silent “listeners” (one of whom is Justin Bieber who stares straight ahead at the TV like a puppy will be shot if he gives any indication he’s listening/agreeing to what’s filling his ears) — Coodie turns off the camera, cutting Kanye off in mid-sentence. It’s a jarring moment — sort of like the final episode of the Sopranos where you’re like “wait did my TV just die?” — and it happens at least one more time before the final credits. It’s an incredibly powerful indication of how far off the rails things have become (do you know how bad it is for your own cameraman — a guy shooting a movie about you — to say “mmmmm we’ve got enough. Don’t need any more footage of you right now…”?!) but I found myself fighting the urge to do the same by the end. It’s just too overwhelming — you (like Coodie) can tell this person needs help and is seemingly unable (or unwilling) to do so, so there’s no joy or merit in watching them continue to spiral out.
It ends on that note, having caught us up to the tumultuous present, and it leaves you without any easy answers. There are zero indications things are getting better in Camp Kanye — musically, personally, etc — and so the frustration and empathy the film evokes are unlikely to diminish anytime soon. (One can only fathom what the next head shaking episode is going to be anymore…) And yet at least part of the film’s intended goal was achieved — to remind us of the Vision and Purpose (the first two episodes’ titles) that captivated us and made him a global phenomenon. If he has yet to experience the final chapter’s Awakening (not to Christianity as you suspect he’d argue, but to how his behavior harms both himself and those around him) you hope it finds him soon.
We’ll close with some light cleanup (so I can close some of the umpty gump tabs I’ve got open on my iPad) and some songs that’ve been piling up during hibernation. First comes one of the songs that Courtney Barnett did for the Apple TV+ show Harriet the Spy, “Smile Real Nice.” It’s an upbeat return akin to her earlier material (plenty of guitar available here!) and is a good listen:
Another femme fave doing music for an Apple TV+ show is Waxahatchee, who contributed songs for its El Deafo, which is based on the best-selling kid’s book. It’s a bit of a poppier turn for Ms Katie (not like the country-tinged elegance from her last one) but it works well — check out “Tomorrow” here:
Up third is another contribution to the Hollywood machine, this time by the National who did songs for the recent Cyrano movie starring Peter Dinklage. It’s a simple, lush piano ballad a la the band’s Boxer era, which is something even superfan Oddge can’t quibble with. Check out “Somebody Desperate” here:
Speaking of piano, the lead single from Regina Spektor’s upcoming album Home, before and after (due out in June) is a lovely little track. Similar to the National it calls to mind earlier, simpler efforts (back when her big booming heart was firmly planted front and center). Hopefully there’s more like it on the album when it arrives — check out “Becoming All Alone” in the meantime:
Next comes the latest single from Christian Lee Hutson’s upcoming album Quitters, which was produced by friends Conor Oberst and Phoebe Bridgers (due out 1 April). It’s a bright sounding song, simple drum machine percussion and Hutson’s warm, somewhat throaty voice, but it sports some poignant lyrics that really drive it home. (“If you tell a lie for long enough then it becomes the truth. I am gonna be OK someday — with or without you…”) Give “Rubberneckers” a listen here:
Up next is the latest from Radiohead side project The Smile (starring frontman Thom Yorke and guitarist Jonny Greenwood along with Sons of Kemet drummer Tom Skinner). The band famously performed as a surprise during last year’s Glastonbury streaming event, but hadn’t surfaced until recently with their first single “You Will Never Work in Television Again.” It’s still unclear if there will be a full album or not, but in the meantime we can at least enjoy these — check out “The Smoke” here:
And we’ll fittingly close the same way we started — with a tune from here at home and the latest from the Cool Kids. These guys remain somewhat hit or miss for me (their debut The Bake Sale remains a fantastic old school throwback though), but they’re back with a TRIPLE album — two solo albums and one as a pair — and hopefully lead single “It’s Yours Pt. 2” is an indication of what else to expect. Besides name checking the Wu classic it finds Chuck and Mike back in a laidback flow with a solid beat to boot this time around. It works well — see what you think here:
That’s it for now — until next time, amici…
–BS