I’mma let you finish…
We’ve entered the winter period that we in the arts affectionately call Jesus There’s Really Nothing Going On At All Is There. Sure, I could subject myself to doing previews of upcoming installments of tired franchise films, but since my love of ripping bad movies apart is seconded only by my love of baiting fanboys, The Wolverine can wait its turn at the chopping block.
Instead, I’m resorting to the lowest common denominator – did anyone see those fucked up tweets that Kanye West made not too terribly long ago? On Jan. 25th, Mr. West tweeted, in the following order: Truth, Beauty, Minimalism, Emotion, Soul, Awesomeness, Functionality. Kanye has since deleted the other twenty-eight tweets accredited to his account, and has left these cryptic, one-word messages.
So…what now? What do you want from us, Kanye? Is this some sort of viral marketing joke gone awry? Are we supposed to glean any information from these messages? Is the title of a new album hidden in these tweets by using clever anagrams? Are these the traits you would ask the Great and Powerful Oz for? Being intentionally vague has a great track record as an awesome advertising force in and of itself. But, I don’t want to live in a word where nine million plus people consider Kanye West a marketing genius for blatant pretension and shenanigans.
I yearn for an earlier time, a time when Kanye West was busy retiring 50 Cent with what was, from all accounts, a great album. I miss the times when, if someone had something to promote, they would shout it from nearby rooftops. I don’t know when this social shift opened up whereby if you want to promote something, you just shouldn’t promote it. Well, I’m sick of it. And so, I issue a challenge to Kanye West.
Kanye West hereby has one week to explain these messages. If they’re a teaser for a new album, then fine. Announce the album. If not, then stop this shit immediately. Leave marketing up to the marketing people, and go back to making music. If this challenge isn’t responded to at the end of the aforementioned week, then you humbly accept your position as biggest conceited cock in music. These are the terms.
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