Kanye's albums have always erred on the side of brash egoism, which is admittedly nothing new in hip-hop. But what does set him apart from most is how vulnerable his albums are. Whether it's the self-consciousness of College Dropout, the awkward singing of 808s and Heartbreaks, or the strange apology in a song like "Runaway," Kanye has consistently given us a window into his own weaknesses and fears. In this way he invites you to join him on ever album, a passenger along for the ride. The listener doesn't follow the artist down a dark road, they stroll side by side. His new album Yeezus is great because it takes the listener and the artist down a road far darker and stranger than the listener may be comfortable with.
One of Kanye's skills is that he can create a consistent character in each of his albums, a certain part of Kanye intensified and picked apart. What makes Yeezus so compelling is that Kanye has created a character stripped away of everything but raw emotion and ego. The intensity of Yeezus is centered on what's left when you take everything away, both sonically and thematically, and raw emotions become unconcerned with anything but themselves. On Yeezus, Kanye is a god, he is a womanizer, he is rich, he is powerful. He is everything you thought he was, or maybe wanted him to be, but to a degree that leaves you uncomfortable with what you see.
The familiar Kanye is there on Yeezus: the hilariously uncomfortable wordplay, the questions of race and blackness, the sexual deviance. But familiarities intensified with slight distortions push the boundary of what is considered creative, funny, or even acceptable. Kanye wants to know how comfortable you are with lines about Asian women and condiments or a terrible visualization of women and civil rights signs. He wants this album to sting, and his lyrics do. He sings about Black Skinheads and New Slaves and even distorts a classic civil rights song into a tale of groupies and abortion. If this is the raw ego, it is a dark place.
What makes it even darker is Kanye's self-awareness. Yeezus, the character and the album, are calculating; it is ego stripped raw of cultural persuasion, yet left with the knowledge of its former constraints. Kanye is aware of what made him great, but only gives the listener that old soul mix on the last song. This is almost a dare, with Kanye saying "if you want the me you like, you have to deal with the me you don't." Of course this would be more of an actual dare if we could only listen to the album from start to finish but pining for the days of records is besides the point.
In character, Yeezus comes off as far too brash and too brazen not to be self-aware. If he is a god, he is closer to greek tragedy than modern omnipotence. Hubris and vanity may be only one side to this god, but the only side it is willing to show. This is not a one-dimensional character, but a complex persona refusing to show anything but it's worst aspects. It can make for a frustrating listen, waiting around for the character to develop, especially when that character knows your waiting. It uses that knowledge against you, playing with your own level of comfort.
Kanye isn't just daring you to like him, he's daring you to relate to him, or at least this part of him. He wants to know how close you come on a daily basis to devolving into a Yeezus-like shell of yourself, where societal moors no longer matter and your suppressed ego is realized. It makes the listener wonder not what part of yourself you're hiding behind, but what is really there when you pull the layers back and take a look at your most raw self. Maybe that's the vulnerability of the album. Kanye recognizes the darkest parts of his soul; now he's just waiting for and daring you to know you aren't that unlike him.
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