Kanye West: "Can't Tell Me Nothing"

No one wonders when Kanye’s gonna release a great record. Dude’s got an armor of 5-star reviews to drown in. Among his problems are a slew of great first singles and an ability to connect with a mass audience. This capacity cleanly separates him from his fellow Chicagoans above. A Kanye appearance is an event; a Lupe appearance is an oddity; a Common appearance is, um. One time I think I stood next to him at a Roots show. You get the distinction. Kanye is a superstar because, from music to fuschia pants to TRL appearance, everything he does is distinctly the work of his own crazy ass. Who cares that he can barely rap when he can elicit that look from Mike Myers? Plus, since he’s at least standing in the room while his production takes place (ghost-production rumors are the new Rhymefest fandom), his tracks come together with more unity and grace than almost any other artist on the radio.

Cough. “Can’t Tell Me Nothing” is thin, wonky and dumb. It’s Kanye’s worst single. I’m as disappointed as you are. Co-production from DJ Toomp yields billowy, minor-key synths and preset drums. Kanye set his chipmunks to “baleful” and the results are a snore. When the beat switches up from ominous ascension to a bar of major-key descending notes, as it does during the “Excuse me, was you saying something?” part of the chorus, the result is the record’s sole high point. The rest is mundanity exemplified: “If the devil wear Prada / Adam and Eve wear nada / I’m in between / But way more fresher / With way less effort.” The line is as dumb as any Kanye would spit, but without a “Gold Digger” or “All Falls Down” caliber beat behind it, the boast feels like a funeral home smells — anaesthetized. Is the Kanye era over?