Kanye West: "Way Too Cold (f/ DJ Khaled)" / "Mercy"

Kanye West’s output from 2007 onwards is essentially the Kübler-Ross model of the Five Stages of Grief. Just bear with me. Graduation (2007) is like denial, with cracks starting to show. 808’s and Heartbreak (2008) is bargaining, almost into anger, the bright-eyed innocence of his first albums reaching a breaking point. My Beautiful Dark Twisted Fantasy (2010) is, then, all anger and depression. And for Watch The Throne (2011), acceptance is on the horizon—and it made for the best album, in my opinion, of Kanye or Jay-Z’s career. For Jay, it was a collaboration album that wasn’t with a flighty R&B star or a shitstain rock group, which meant it was a necessary re-contextualization for his career; for Kanye, it was mostly about getting by with a little help from your friends.

The relish Yeezy takes in indulgence now will never be as pure as it was on The College Dropout (2004) or Late Registration (2005), but it’s far more shaded. Kanye sounds anchored on “Way Too Cold” (formerly “Theraflu”) in a way that he never has before, with a firm grip on the direction of his career. “Niggas In Paris” combined the arriviste glee of “The Good Life” with the numbness of “Heartless” and the bite of “Monster,” creeping up on the radio, on people like me who thought Kanye and Jay’s continuing existence was a museum piece (like that of Eminem and Royce). “Way Too Cold” is down the same direction. The pop-Luger synths aren’t as visceral as anything just mentioned, but they let Kanye rant, which typically works for whatever Kanye’s trying to do. Plus, he puts more effort into his hooks here than on any solo song since Graduation, letting the coughing “Get the Theraflu” line float as an extra instead of forcing it to carry the song like the title sentiments of “Monster” and “Power.” It’s a return to the dishy Kanye of old: Wiz is allowed to date his ex, there is some fixation on a Kardashian (foreshadowing!), there’s an admirable attempt at swag-coinage. He even slips into A$AP Rocky’s lilting diction at one point (“Six thousand dollar pair of shoes/We made it to the Paris news!”). Goddamn, how real is this?

DJ Khaled shouts something, but he’s more of a state of mind than an artist, so this is pretty much all Kanye. And that confident independence is striking compared to “Theraflu”‘s companion, the G.O.O.D. Music posse cut “Mercy,” which sounds similar, if not as commanding. It’s a great showcase for Big Sean’s ascension to the throne of Ass Poet Laureate, but 2 Chainz and Pusha T sound lost in the shuffle; I’m not convinced either is the kind of social rapper that is going to thrive in the “Flava in Ya Ear” or “I’m On One” friends genre. A genre I just invented.

Still, on “Mercy,” and especially on “Way Too Cold,” Kanye seems satisfied with his position. In rap. In the universe. He’s finally settled enough to take some time arranging his proteges instead of leaning on his famous friends. Which is what perhaps gives his “bargaining” and “anger” songs such weight: that what didn’t kill him really did make him stronger. Maybe he’s my favorite depressed person—or our favorite—because he makes losing seem like an epic, glorious journey from being Talib Kweli’s wingman to baiting PETA with floor-dragging mink. Or maybe because it’s hard to remember a time when Kanye actually was losing.