‘The Life of Pablo:’ A tribute to arrogance



Rap artist Kanye West performed a free concert for Chicago Public Schools students who had improved their grades this year in Chicago, Illinois, Thursday, June 11, 2009. (Lane Christiansen/Chicago Tribune/MCT)

Lana Heltzel, Editor-in-Chief

Kanye West has gone off the deep end; whether he’s $53 million in debt, explosively ranting about Taylor Swift, or banning “white publications” from reviewing his music, the rapper known as Yeezy is always up to something. If the music industry is the solar system, Kanye is the insane, dangerously narcissistic sun that us plebeian planets revolve around. Kanye’s newest album, The Life of Pablo—currently only available on the music streaming website Tidal—is just as bizarre as the man himself.
The Life of Pablo’s opening song, “Ultralight Beam,” establishes a recurring theme in the album; Kanye is the weakest link on his own songs. His verses are auto-tuned to death, droning, and extremely expressionless (the man sounds so bored). The song’s featured vocalist, Chance the Rapper, is by contrast quick and fervent, completely overshadowing Kanye. “Ultralight Beam,” along with other tracks on the album, is interspersed with dramatic gospel vocals, another odd disparity with Kanye’s listless rapping and near-incoherent lyrics.
In the midst of both mediocrity and audio Chinese water torture, The Life of Pablo supplies a few positives. In the song “Fade,” a sample of the Tempations’ “I Know (I’m Losing You)” collides with house music, creating, at the very least, an interesting instrumental. Meanwhile, “FML” is an eerie ode to self-sabotage and the battle of controlling oneself. Kanye mentions his use of the anti-depression and anti-anxiety drug Lexapro, while guest vocalist The Weeknd laments, “Wish I would go ahead and [mess] my life up/ Can’t let them get to me/ And even though I always [mess] my life up/ Only I can mention me.”
The Life of Pablo is ultimately the autobiography of a pseudo-intellectual megalomaniac. While occasionally bearing some glimpses of actual human emotion, it’s more concerned with taking petty potshots at fellow celebrities. The album’s disjointed nature and abstract concepts paired with poor execution make it sound more like the ramblings of an elderly park hobo than a supposed rap god.
The Life of Pablo is garishly braggadocios, and if Kanye isn’t going to fade into obscurity anytime soon, the least he could do is go to therapy to sort out his god-complex.