I used to be a big proponent of the idea of separating the art from the artist. I mean, how does one make out the pain and misery of victims in the beauty of the painting that you’re admiring? Why should a transgression come in the way of youvibing to a banger?

I was happy with this conclusion, consuming art without a care in the world. Feeling some bliss without in the shadow of ignorance.

Then Kanye f*cked it all up.

For someone who’s trying to write more often (I mean who blogs in 2024), I am not articulate enough to describe how much I loved Kanye West. He was (is?) a chaotic, perfectionist musical genius who had brought about a new sound in hiphop with every album he put out since his debut.

I miss the old Kanye, straight from the go Kanye

The College Dropout trilogy changed the genre and the culture. Each successive release cemented the age of backpacks and pink polos along with effectively ending the gangsta rap era.

Then, after suffering the loss his mother and his long-term relationship, he released the heart-wrenching 808s & Heartbreak, a minimalist production-driven sad vibe that Drake owes his career to.

His next project came after his VMA controversy with Taylor Swift, the maximalist beauty, My Beautiful Dark Twisted Fantasy, which was followed by another often underrated album with a similar sound, Yeezus. This was my introduction to the man, and despite my best intentions some of the narcissism might have rubbed off on me.

The Life of Pablo would be the last genre-defining album he drops, a culmination of his chaotic perfectionism, sheer talent, connections and ultra-famous personal life.

He also had time to drop one of the best (if not the greatest) collaboration albums ever, Watch The Throne with Jay Z along with launching a clothing line with a footwear collaboration with Adidas that can be credited to singlehandedly starting the hype beast era, Yeezy.

Kanye is one of the most influential figures in music and fashion of the last two decades. I absolutely adored him and his music. I recognised his fashion aesthetic, but it never really spoke to me. Not that I could afford it, to be fair.

Asshole-ism is a endless spiral

It began with the weird rants at a concert, honestly, it was a tiny bit concerning but nothing out of the ordinary. I mean, you must have heard the famous words:

“Bush doesn’t care about Black people”

It came out that he was diagnosed with bipolar disorder, which would also go on to become a recurring theme in his music going forward. This, as an ardent fan at the time, was tough to hear.

A few years after that, his marriage broke down. One would feel for the man. His behaviour around this period was generally rather peculiar, but people still loved him. In fact, when he started targeting his ex-wife’s new boyfriend, fans ate it up.

And then, sh*t really hit the fan when he said a bunch of anti-semitic nonsense along with praising Hitler.

I remember r/kanye being a hella active fan page which was one of the coolest, albeit unhinged, pages on Reddit. It was tough going for them during the years following 2018. The whole anti-semitic BS was the final nail in the coffin, everybody just gave up supporting him.

The music was still dope

Even though I stopped looking up at him, I couldn’t stop listening to his music. It was just that good. Not that I minded his behaviour, after all, I was all about separating the artist from their art. But if I was being honest, it did feel a little weird. And it kept feeling weirder and weirder with every new braindead reason he was in the news for, and it was a constant barrage of things and you couldn’t really defend the man anymore. He was cooked.

A few weeks ago, I was finally forced to change my views when the news of Kanye’s alleged sexual assault dropped. I saw that headline and immediately got me worked up. I was just sick and tired of his behaviour.

It was just difficult for me to fathom how he could throw away his status as a hustling pioneer so easily when so many people looked up to him. He was my hero, it is difficult to see someone that holds such an important place in your life unravel himself. His music got me through some dark times man. It felt like a betrayal. It is rather messed up to make this whole thing about me rather than the actual victims of his actions, but as I said, some narcissism did rub off. That’s on me rather than him though.

I couldn’t stand his music anymore. I just altogether stopped. It’s difficult to not think about that sheer amount of bullsh*t when listening to any his music.

It does leave me with some questions:

  • Does the legacy of all the great art count if a person is inherently a bad human being?
  • Does humanity matter more than talent and legacy?

I don’t know if I mourn the loss of the beautiful feeling I got when I listened to his music or the inspiration I felt looking at his journey. For now, it seems like the beauty will have to exist in an empty vacuum since I possibly won’t be able to see it ever again in his work. What’s music without ears?

The art is not worth it, sometimes.