Kanye West: When is fly is too fly?

Published October 30, 2007

By Henry Melcher

In the ratty bathroom of my ramshackle junior year apartment, to balance the toilet seat’s encrusted pubic whiskers and shower’s metastasized mold, my roommates hung an illustrated map of Aruba. Their hope was that maybe a tropical image could overshadow the sink’s eight o’clock shadow, accumulated from unrinsed shavings of facial whiskers. Much to my chagrin, the map detailed the island’s commercial appeal- it served as a restaurant or kitsch souvenir shop locater and with the coastline’s exception, failed to reference any actual geographic features. I scrawled “conspicuous consumption” across its bottom so that its consent of gross consumerism wouldn’t remain unchallenged.

The theme of conspicuous consumption was still lingering in my mind as I recently perused Kanye West’s blog. I’ll admit it- for all intents and purposes, I have a man-crush on Kanye West. He is so fly that he is unafraid to acknowledge his own absurd egotism (”top five MCs, ain’t gotta remind me/ top five MCs, you gotta rewind me./ I’m high up on the line, you can get behind me/ but my head’s so big you can’t sit behind me”), yet brashly refuses to apologize for it. And although there is little doubt that his ability as a producer far outweighs his lyrical dexterity, one can’t help but enjoy a written line like “I’m just sayin’, hey Mona Lisa / Come home, you know you can’t roam without Caesar.” And if one were to take issue with rhymes that don’t come from the top of the head, I need only reference the much respected hip-hop great, Chuck-D, who questions “Why is this verse coming six times rehearsed?” to aver “don’t freestyle much / but I write ‘em like such (word)” in the 1998 Public Enemy remake of Buffalo Springfield’s “For What It’s Worth” for Spike Lee’s flick He Got Game.

At its best, Kanye’s blog informs visitors of his indulgences and aesthetic preference through an eclectic array of pop-culture morsels: pictures of an uber-modern German-designed rocking chair, a link to an article on Japanese artist Takashi Murakami’s latest premier at the L.A. MOCA, or an exclusive video of a Just Blaze and John Mayer studio session. At its most needy of substance, however, Kanye reverts to the material urge. No, Kanyeezy, I do not care that those matching Chanel tennis racquets cost 350 euros; that Louis Vuitton is releasing a line of “luxury disposable goods” (trash-bags with the pimped brown LV logo emblazoned as obnoxiously as the innumerable bootleg purses around the world confirm it to be); or that such a thing as a 70,000 euro perch skin, lambskin lined case of six rare bottles of Dom Perignon bottles even exists. Such displays are vulgar, crude reminders of how popular it is to be obscenely rich.

Is Kanye West too fly? Is it necessary to post pictures of the freshest Jordans on the market, or that new pair of Bottega Veneta high tops? What other purpose than “yea, I’ve been there, I’m that ill” does posting snapshots of urban-fashion boutiques from Australia to Paris command? This is hard to say. While I still have the urge to bump “Flashing Lights” almost every time I enter my car, one must question whether Kanye-to-tha has crossed over to the dark-side, cleared the gulf between artist and star. Has an urge for the 80’s (both in fashion and beat sampling) transcended recycled-chic and changed to just plain tacky? For this writer, on-point is beginning to change to too much, though you can see for yourself at http://www.kanyeuniversecity.com/blog/.

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