When Kanye West released “Diamonds From Sierra Leone,” the first single from his highly anticipated new album, hip-hop radio programmers and fans reacted coolly.
West was stunned.
The song was a stinging look at the abusive working conditions in the diamond mines of Sierra Leone, and the track opens with a teasing sample from Shirley Bassey’s version of “Diamonds Are Forever,” the lush pop hit from the ’70s James Bond film.
It was just the kind of mix of sound and subject that the 28-year-old rapper-producer saw as the next step in his ambitious plan to liberate hip-hop.
In his debut album, last year’s “The College Dropout,” West showed he could sell millions of records by replacing thug-life cliches with compelling human portraits. This time he wanted to redirect the music of hip-hop as dramatically as he had changed its themes.
His plan for “Late Registration,” which drops Tuesday, was to incorporate the arty pop sounds he heard in works by singer-songwriter Fiona Apple and the trip-hop devotees Portishead. We’re talking hip-hop with strings, pop music, horns, cellos, violin, exotic guitar noises.
The socially conscious message of “Diamonds” played well, but the music struck most listeners as way too pop and fluffy, lacking the jackhammer beats that define hip-hop.
“They thought it was too white,” West said. (He uses “white” referring to pop music, and “black” for R&B and hip-hop.) “Others thought the sample was too corny, and I had to listen to them. Mainly, I realized I may be going too fast in trying to open new dimensions in hip-hop. I needed to take one step at a time if I wanted to bring my audience with me.”
West returned to the studio and threw out four tracks from the CD he had been working on in L.A. for months with pop producer Jon Brion, who produced Apple’s second album. They replaced them with tracks that West describes as more “black.” (He’s saving the discards for his next album, which he’s already titled “Graduation Day.”)
Most artists might not even admit reworking their album for fear of sounding like sellouts. But the four new tracks aren’t a retreat.
“Late Registration” is a 71-minute tour de force that mixes everyman tales with sonic invention–a record that could change the musical framework of rap more than anything since 1992’s “The Chronic” by Dr. Dre. First-week sales are expected to be the largest for any rap collection since 50 Cent’s “The Massacre” topped the million mark in March.
West’s last-minute retooling offers a valuable insight into his ambitions. He doesn’t just want to make great records. He also insists on making hits.
For all his love of the studio, West, a Chicago native who now lives in L.A., says being on stage with fans singing along is the ultimate musical high.
“The feeling is so incredible that you want more of it,” he said. “That’s what you’re chasing in the studio. You are looking for songs that will touch people, tell their story, inspire them, connect with them.
“I can’t wait to get back on tour because I’m going to bring an orchestra with me. Imagine that.”
Two words are invariably applied to Kanye West: brilliant and arrogant. West is all too familiar with the talk about his cocky image.
“The funny thing is, a lot of the stuff I said last year about ‘my great album’ was out of fear,” West said. “It was my first time out and I was singing ‘Jesus Walks’ in front of 20,000 screaming people.
“It was like walking into a Las Vegas casino and suddenly winning. Who knows if you’ll ever be able to do that again? Deep inside I didn’t know if I could ever make another record as unique or meaningful as that first album. I wanted to make sure people saw what I had done and gave me credit.”
Clearly, West also is trying to lift the music’s moral tone. That’s why the only thing racing through the hip-hop world faster than West’s “Gold Digger” single last week was talk about his passionate plea on MTV for an end to gay-bashing in rap.
After explaining how he frequently made fun of gays as a teenager until he learned one of his favorite cousins was homosexual, he looked into the camera and urged other rappers in a field where gays are a frequent target: “Yo, stop it.”
West got his sense of moral commitment, along with his feel for wordplay, from his mother, who was head of the English department at Chicago State University until she recently retired. West attended classes there only briefly before dropping out to pursue a music career, much to her displeasure.
In his raps, West frequently draws from his own experience. He also spends hours listening to albums from the ’60s and ’70s, looking for something in a song that inspires him. Then, he’ll tinker with the samples in the studio. It’s a merger similar to the sound pioneered by Dr. Dre, only West’s records employ an even more aggressive R&B/pop sheen.
“I’m trying to lead by example the same way some of my heroes did in the ’80s and ’90s,” West said, relishing the reaction to the new album. “It’s like what Eminem did to white rappers. He set the bar so high that no other white rapper could compete.
“When people hear my new album, it’s going to up the bar in hip-hop so high that the same thing will happen. It’s going to be hard for other rappers to reach it.”
