This week, West, 33, releases his fifth album, My Beautiful Dark Twisted Fantasy. It is in many ways pop’s event of the year, a stunning comeback for an artist whom many people had started to think of as more of a clown. It reveals West in all his complicated splendor: the bully, the innovator, the polymath genius, the diamond-studded blowhard. Most of all, it showcases the undeniable singularity of his talent, which has gotten lost in months of extraordinarily bizarre behavior. But it also complements that behavior: “Power,” the first single off the album, is not its only anthem of defiance. The entire angry album is a flipped bird to the preprogrammed narratives of celebrity culture. It’s not self-defense; it’s a premeditated attack on West’s haters and a rough exultation of his ego, his impulsiveness, his mess. “Immature adult? Uh-huh,” West raps. “Insecure asshole? What else?”
Demented Genius
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