Kanye West Superstar by Byron Crawford

I’ve read a book by the music writer Byron Crawford before, a collection of his blog posts from 2008 to 2011, which though I didn’t hate to read – I kept going right to the end – I couldn’t help but notice and be deeply discomforted by Crawford’s performance of what I (a whingy, mentally ill hipster blogger with no life no hope no present or presence so what do I matter) believe to be extreme misogyny.

Regardless of Crawford’s true feelings, that same performance of sexism exists here, an entire book in the same voice/mode/timbre of his blog that’s loosely focused on the life and career of Kanye West, up to the time of the book’s publication in 2014.

This book ends, then, before the arguable artistic high points of West’s career – The Life of Pablo and that album with the mountains and the text about being bipolar on the cover. It also ends before the stratospheric financial success of the rapper’s collaboration with Adidas (now terminated), before the public and less -than-dignified collapse of his marriage, before the collabs with high fashion rather than sportswear labels, before he lived in a stadium, before he technically but half-arsedly ran for president, before he “provocatively” invited multiple people credibly accused of sexual misconduct to appear on an album named after his long-dead mother, before people began to (or chose to?) notice that he would regularly regurgitate anti-Semitic conspiracy theories, but long before – likely decades before, if he lives that long – public and journalistic interest in his life has waned…

Byron Crawford could write another book-length text on the life and career of West and he wouldn’t have to repeat anything.

The guy is a goldmine.

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Even if one is less-than-generous and considers even West’s strongest output to be the result of multiple people’s work rather than one “vision”, West’s ability to bring performers, musicians, composers, producers, writers and other creative visionaries together is something that cannot be ignored. Crawford cites the fact that Yeezus (West’s 2013 album that has ten tracks and is 40 minutes and four seconds long) credits 67 songwriters as an example of a paucity of creativity, but I would argue that it is instead the opposite…

West as musical dramaturg, as director, as conductor, perhaps??? (Maybe in the decade since Kanye West Superstar was published, that number has increased as further historic samples have been identified and potential plagiarism suits defanged by offering credit, but it seems likely that said number was so high because full attribution had been provided at the time of composition/release, which also is evidence of doing things properly. Maybe?)

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Crawford states that West can’t sing very well, can’t rap very well and is often inarticulate lyrically, and though the first two are debatable (e.g. it often feels like – to me – that when West performs his verse in a less-than-slick manner, it is an intentional artistic choice rather than a lack of ability or an unwillingness to give a different performer the mic?), the third accusation is near-impossible to deny: even many of West’s most moving, coherent and/or fun works contain throwaway lines that should have been thrown away…

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Ok, sorry, it’s now three or four days later and I’ve travelled up and down the country to a friend’s wedding, and I read multiple other books on the way.

But, yes, to think about this one again, it is a compelling and an interesting exploration of Kanye West’s life and work, though it does presume a far more in-depth knowledge of celebrity sex tapes than I have and am ever likely to gain (e.g. the title is a reference to Kim Kardashian’s “sex tape”, which is a piece of pop cultural trivia I now know and never expected to).

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I mean, saying that, this presumption of the reader watching celebrity “sex tapes” is part of the overall tone that made me feel uncomfortable, the feeling of complicity with the elsewhere performance of gross misogyny… I found it unsettling.

(((I don’t know enough about pornography to know if it is inherently misogynistic, though I feel like presuming it is is a retrogressive opinion, especially in relation to the most frequently referenced pornography in this book, which was intentionally and deliberately used by a savvy media figure to kickstart an incredibly lucrative career in the public eye. So, I don’t feel like I can blanketly imply that intentionally released pornographic material is inherently sexist, as I don’t want to sound overly puritanical (I don’t want to sound puritanical at all, but it is an unfortunate side effect of deep deep deep so so deep deep deep repression.)))

I think normalising pornography is a symptom, rather than a cause of, sexism???? But I don’t know?

I would presume that the music videos Crawford mentions with their “video hoes” (I don’t know if that’s his term or a generally accepted one?) are much more sinister in their mainstream release and implied ideologies than something that solely exists as a masturbatory aid??? But is pornography merely that, now? Or is it not, instead, content? Is the normalisation of pornography – media produced and seen with an established idea of the end point of the viewer not necessarily matching the end point of the content – the real reason for abandoned projects, abandoned art, my YouTube view counts not matching the total hours viewed, etc…

I dunno

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Maybe a good person would have to put this book down? Maybe a person with integrity – which I have established that I do not have and I think this is the reason why I hate myself with such fucking intensity and horror – would not be able to read an entire book that dehumanises, denigrates, disrespects and mocks all women?

I don’t think Crawford is as extreme in his sexism as he performs here, and in fact there is a deliberate and blunt rolling back of the homophobia he has expressed in other writing, a “live and let live” type disinterest that – pre-alt-right, at least – is a direct appeal to tolerance that is not implied by the content…

Maybe this, then, is the same with the misogyny?

Maybe Crawford presumes that his readers understand that this is a bit, a gag, a riff? Maybe it is meant to be obvious that when he says women have no value other than as sexual objects he doesn’t “mean” it? Maybe the relentlessness of this thread in the text is itself meant to be the proof of its falseness – the more it is stated, the more the ridiculousness is drawn attention to, the more the author’s loneliness is alluded to, the clearer that it is a joke is meant to become?

I don’t know.

Since Kanye West Superstar was published, almost ten years ago, there has been a roll-back of abortion rights in the United States, there have been multiple acts of terrorism/murder committed with a direct and intentional incel ideology (i.e. extreme sexism) motivation, so… I dunno,

I just like I dunno if – even if ultimately the “gag” is meant to be that lonely Crawford is doomed to solitude – it’s really…

I dunno I dunno.

I don’t wanna sound like a killjoy or a puritan or a hypocrite or someone who can’t take a joke or someone who thinks all content should be suitable for everyone. I’m not that…

I dunno

And this book has its merits, it really does – it is rare to find a piece of writing that is so in-depth and knowledgeable about an artist – especially a musician – that is so far from hagiography…

Crawford doesn’t idolise or exaggerate the importance of West as an artist… if anything his understated dismissal of West’s work’s worth feels far more honest than anything else here – I certainly got the impression that there was no fronting, no feinting, when Crawford tells his reader what he thinks about the music of Kanye West.

It is an interesting book, and I didn’t hate it. Maybe why I feel uncomfortable is because of this – that I felt the hatefulness of the text, yet wasn’t repulsed; I was able to keep reading, I was able to maintain a blokey readerly camaraderie with this narrative voice who is into music and doesn’t like women but also like likes women, y’know?

Would I recommend it? Honestly, I don’t know if I wouldn’t. And does that make me part of the problem? Maybe it does. Maybe it does. Maybe it does.

Order Kanye West Superstar direct POD from Crawford via Amazon

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