Some are destined for European discos, like “Lost in the World” and its bipolar declarations: “You’re my questions, you’re my proof / You’re my stress, and you’re my masseuse.”īut this is emphatically a hip-hop album, so the boom-bap is never far. Some of his musical compositions are made for the stadium, like “All of the Lights” and its red carpet of 14 vocalists ranging from Elton John to Charlie Wilson to Rihanna. This dysfunction still sounds incredible, though, because West lays down his torment on beds of sound that reveal new beauties with each listen. You get women, ego, fame, evil, power, pain, even sex and religion as unholy bedfellows - all delivered in defiant rhymes laden with multiple meanings and punch lines. There’s no happiness, vicarious thrills or funny stories, no touching odes to his mentor or his mother, just a man torn apart by the world and himself. Kanye’s previous album, “808s & Heartbreak,” also was a bleak experience, but “Fantasy” delves into an uglier place. The only thing missing from this “Fantasy” is a good time. As a producer, Kanye’s immense gifts have reached a new peak, and his lyrics remain double-edged blades of young black pathos. The main question left for his fifth album was, What’s in it for us?Ī lot - if you like reality TV, celebrity tabloids and car crashes. He had made enough headlines and leaked enough music to make that clear. We knew well before “My Beautiful Dark Twisted Fantasy” that Kanye West is a tortured genius.