"The Old Kanye” was for my generation. That’s the “chop up a beat Kanye.” The one that required beat machines and a knowledge of records; the so-called Chipmunk Soul Kanye.
Kanye West rode unto the scene proclaiming himself a “backpacker” which was code for Hip-Hop nerds who loved rap in all of it’s purity (I think we lump such people in the disparaging category of “lyrical miracle” lovers now…not sure).
And I wasn’t on board for those first two albums. His raps were so simplistic to me and flow so predictable. But the rap intelligensia sang his praises for his use of soulful samples — whether that was pitching Chaka up +7 on “Through the Wire,” or chopping up all parts of “I Got a Woman” for “Gold Digger,” everyone had saddled up on Kanye’s privates. I bought the albums, listened a couple of times, picked the few songs I liked, and moved on.
I finally came around to the West bandwagon with the Daft Punk sampled, “Stronger.” The first single, “You Can’t Tell Me Nothing,” was MOS (more of the same)…at least I thought so at first. But when the album, Graduation, dropped, I even signed on for that.
I was impressed with the entire album. From the Takashi Murakami album cover to the fact that he was able to get the finicky Steely Dan, one of my favorite 70s bands, to allow him use of “Kid Charlemagne,” even his rap flow seemed to have improved, I became a fan. I revisited the other albums (with the same, original results).
I eagerly awaited Kanye’s next release. Boy was I thrown for a loop.
When one of the founders of House, Jesse Saunders, made “On and On,” it became an instant hit. But what many say was it’s greatest quality was the fact that it was inspiring — and not because it was an excellent song — quite the contrary. “On and On” was considered inspiring because of it’s simplicity. When young Chicago producers heard the song, many of them thought, “I can do THAT…and better.”
No one would have ever thought that about Thom Yorke’s Eraser. Released in 2006, Thom Yorke tapped into his love for Warp Recordings and went all the way electronica in a way that he only attempted with Radiohead’s Kid A.
Kanye loved this album. He loved it so much so that he hopped on the title cut for “Us Placers” on his Can’t Tell Me Nothing mixtape.
I’ve always believed that Kanye wore his influences on his sleeve as big as that heart he started wearing in 2008 leading up to the release of 808s and Heartbreaks.
This was no exception. My first impression of “Love Lockdown” was, “this is an awful impersonation of Thom Yorke,” a comment I reiterated whenever someone asked my opinion about the song.
Of course, I had no proof that Kanye was influenced by The Eraser until the November 2008 Fader cover story where Mr. West says that “Love Lockdown” is just a great accomplishment in the idea of, like, Thom Yorke in the strip club.”
Then I heard the album. I was underwhelmed. I had finally signed on for the rapping Kanye, finally appreciated his sampling, and here was this auto-tuned, incredibly simplistic album.
They’re like, “It sounds like he wrote this in five minutes,” and I’m like, You’re right, it took me five minutes! Is something better if it took five years than if it took five minutes? Kanye West
I appreciated his fearlessness and the fact that, above all else, Kanye is an artist, but I did what Kanye would have wanted — I held 808 next to Eraser — I didn’t put him in the rap category for my judgement of the album — and concluded that it was ga’bage.
But the album wasn’t for me. (My first lesson in redeeming myself from hate) This album was for a generation of kids that I didn’t know — they were still in middle and high school.
This album is a complete new idea, some whole different shit that’s gonna change music again. Kanye West
A year later, Kanye’s protégé and collaborator on 4 of 808's songs, Kid Cudi, dropped Man On The Moon which he says, “wouldn’t exist on a major label without the success of a left-of-center hit like 808s.” That album solidified the new world of rap that Kanye ushered in and the technology ain’t hurt either.
Stevie Wonder had his Talk Box designed by Malcolm Cecil and Robert Margouleff. His skill with playing the harmonica helped. It’s said that Roger Troutman’s desire to use the Talk Box came watching Wonder dazzle the kids of Sesame Street. He popularized it with “More Bounce to the Ounce.” Herbie Hancock even dabbled in the Vocoder using the Sennheiser Vocoder VSM 201 in 1979. All of them needed to put that tube in their mouth and “play” their voice on a keyboard. Plus you had the whole fainting, losing teeth, stomach virus thing. Not the most convenient set-up.
Kanye West rode unto the scene proclaiming himself a “backpacker” which was code for Hip-Hop nerds who loved rap in all of it’s purity (I think we lump such people in the disparaging category of “lyrical miracle” lovers now…not sure).
And I wasn’t on board for those first two albums. His raps were so simplistic to me and flow so predictable. But the rap intelligensia sang his praises for his use of soulful samples — whether that was pitching Chaka up +7 on “Through the Wire,” or chopping up all parts of “I Got a Woman” for “Gold Digger,” everyone had saddled up on Kanye’s privates. I bought the albums, listened a couple of times, picked the few songs I liked, and moved on.
I finally came around to the West bandwagon with the Daft Punk sampled, “Stronger.” The first single, “You Can’t Tell Me Nothing,” was MOS (more of the same)…at least I thought so at first. But when the album, Graduation, dropped, I even signed on for that.
I was impressed with the entire album. From the Takashi Murakami album cover to the fact that he was able to get the finicky Steely Dan, one of my favorite 70s bands, to allow him use of “Kid Charlemagne,” even his rap flow seemed to have improved, I became a fan. I revisited the other albums (with the same, original results).
I eagerly awaited Kanye’s next release. Boy was I thrown for a loop.
When one of the founders of House, Jesse Saunders, made “On and On,” it became an instant hit. But what many say was it’s greatest quality was the fact that it was inspiring — and not because it was an excellent song — quite the contrary. “On and On” was considered inspiring because of it’s simplicity. When young Chicago producers heard the song, many of them thought, “I can do THAT…and better.”
No one would have ever thought that about Thom Yorke’s Eraser. Released in 2006, Thom Yorke tapped into his love for Warp Recordings and went all the way electronica in a way that he only attempted with Radiohead’s Kid A.
Kanye loved this album. He loved it so much so that he hopped on the title cut for “Us Placers” on his Can’t Tell Me Nothing mixtape.
I’ve always believed that Kanye wore his influences on his sleeve as big as that heart he started wearing in 2008 leading up to the release of 808s and Heartbreaks.
This was no exception. My first impression of “Love Lockdown” was, “this is an awful impersonation of Thom Yorke,” a comment I reiterated whenever someone asked my opinion about the song.
Of course, I had no proof that Kanye was influenced by The Eraser until the November 2008 Fader cover story where Mr. West says that “Love Lockdown” is just a great accomplishment in the idea of, like, Thom Yorke in the strip club.”
Then I heard the album. I was underwhelmed. I had finally signed on for the rapping Kanye, finally appreciated his sampling, and here was this auto-tuned, incredibly simplistic album.
They’re like, “It sounds like he wrote this in five minutes,” and I’m like, You’re right, it took me five minutes! Is something better if it took five years than if it took five minutes? Kanye West
I appreciated his fearlessness and the fact that, above all else, Kanye is an artist, but I did what Kanye would have wanted — I held 808 next to Eraser — I didn’t put him in the rap category for my judgement of the album — and concluded that it was ga’bage.
But the album wasn’t for me. (My first lesson in redeeming myself from hate) This album was for a generation of kids that I didn’t know — they were still in middle and high school.
This album is a complete new idea, some whole different shit that’s gonna change music again. Kanye West
A year later, Kanye’s protégé and collaborator on 4 of 808's songs, Kid Cudi, dropped Man On The Moon which he says, “wouldn’t exist on a major label without the success of a left-of-center hit like 808s.” That album solidified the new world of rap that Kanye ushered in and the technology ain’t hurt either.
Stevie Wonder had his Talk Box designed by Malcolm Cecil and Robert Margouleff. His skill with playing the harmonica helped. It’s said that Roger Troutman’s desire to use the Talk Box came watching Wonder dazzle the kids of Sesame Street. He popularized it with “More Bounce to the Ounce.” Herbie Hancock even dabbled in the Vocoder using the Sennheiser Vocoder VSM 201 in 1979. All of them needed to put that tube in their mouth and “play” their voice on a keyboard. Plus you had the whole fainting, losing teeth, stomach virus thing. Not the most convenient set-up.
