Track rewiew: Kanye West - Blame Game

I never thought I’d find myself getting emotional while listening to Chris Rock. I also never thought I’d find myself 11 months into the year questioning Round and Round’s place as the best song of the year. But here I was, 11 tracks into Kanye West’s “My Beautiful Dark Twisted Fantasy” being moved in a way that is rare, and begs to be remembered.

“My Beautiful Dark Twisted Fantasy” is a great album in the same way that many universally-recognized rock albums are. Think “Nevermind” or “The Blue Album”. Freakishly consistent, undeniably “good”, impossibly wide appeal that unites casual listeners and critics. When you listen to these rare albums for the first time, each song is your favorite song until the next one comes. This is how I felt about “My Beautiful Dark Twisted Fantasy”, except I came to a stop with the 8 minute tour de force of human emotion, “Blame Game”.

Ye comes strong with the beat and hook. Of course. John Legend drops classic Kanye-esque lines (I call you bitch as my first and last resort), over a sparse piano that reminds me of Animal Collective’s “No More Running”. After a few verses, Kanye gets all conceptual and creates the voices in his head, a bunch of warped, phased, pitched voices that come at you like a tidal wave of subconscious thought.

Throughout most of the song, Kanye treats his jealousy with narcissism. “On a bathroom wall I wrote: I’d rather argue with you than to be with someone else / I took a piss and dismiss it and went and found somebody else”. Because he can. Right? He’d rather prove his perceived worth than admit that he is trapped in love. And the trap is fucked up. Rather by his own arrogance, or his extreme jealousy, he continues to prove himself as his worst enemy.

And then there’s Chris Rock. As the song closes, Kanye calls his lost lover, only to get her voicemail. But her phone “accidentally” calls him back (lol), and he hears the “whole thing”. Its her new man’s birthday, and Rock unleashes a legendary rant about how amazing of a woman she is, from her pussy to her taste in watches. The blame game comes full circle. Who’s to blame for her ways? Yeezy, of course. Everyone should hear it for themselves, but appreciate the synthesis of story telling, heart break, jealousy, pride, and comedy. Rock does a phenomenal job playing Kanye’s modest replacement. At parts you feel heartbroken listening to it, then he says something like “who the fuck got your pussy re-upholstered?” and you can’t help but smile like an idiot. Its that feeling when you don’t know rather to laugh or to cry. Or when a song communicates itself so effectively that you can only bask in it’s awe, and feel blessed to have heard it.