This week I wanted to try something new. Since I’m being held captive in my home by a tyrannical 2-and-a-half year-old who marches around the house demanding fruit chewy snacks while my wife is off galivanting around San Diego, I don’t have much chance to engage in the cafe lifestyle as it were, sitting around sipping aperitifs, discussing the matters of the day with other great minds. So I decided to engage in such a discussion on the interwebs, domain of those with no social lives, with someone who actually has one, my friend and esteemed Time Out Chicago web editor, Scott Smith. When he’s not trading barbs with Richard Marx, he also writes on his own blog, Our Man in Chicago.
Below is the opening letter, in which I try to convince Scott that Kanye West owes me $10. In the next few days, he’ll post a reply at his site, to which I’ll respond, et cetera, et cetera. We’ll keep it going as long as it stays coherent, and probably longer, so stay tuned. Magic is about to happen.
Dear Mr. Smith:
When I was in college, every Tuesday I used to scamper down to Karma Music or the Discount Den to spend every penny I hadn’t guzzled through a beer bong the previous weekend on music. I’d buy two and sometimes three or four albums a week, based on the slightest recommendations, lukewarm reviews in Rolling Stone, or the artist’s sheer proximity to the Wu-Tang Clan. Sure, a lot of them turned out to be duds, but it never stopped me from doing the same thing again the next week.
Lately though, now that I have better access to music than ever before, both through an expanded budget and the ability to download it from iTunes the second I think about it, I’ve been much more judicious about my msuic purchases. Obviously some of this comes with maturity (and the depressing end to new Ol’ Dirty Bastard releases), but it’s almost like I’m afraid to wield this new power foolishly, as if to make up for all those shitty 311 albums in my closet. Why just last week, I pored over the 30-second samples of a new album from an artist whose previous records I’ve absolutely loved, and decided not to buy it because it didn’t move me.
So can you explain to me why I didn’t give a second thought to buying Kanye West’s new offering, Graduation, which had I previewed it beforehand, I might have thought twice about too? The reasons I found it disappointing don’t matter as much as the fact that I bought it without even considering the possibility. Did I grade Kanye on a hometown curve? Was I too trusting that he could just continue down the path of greatness he’d started with The College Dropout and Late Registration? Or did I really want to see 50 Cent follow through on his threat to retire if Graduation outsold his new album, Curtis? Actually, I know the answer to that one, and it’s yes.
Seasoned music critic that you are, I want to know what you think this says about the nature of our buying habits, and conversely, how artists rely on them. You could totally disagree with me and say you love the new album, and that would be fair, but I want to know if I’m at fault for forking over $10 without checking Kanye’s work first. How many free passes should we give to our favorite artists before we make them prove themselves again?
Sincerely yours,
Wood-Tang
Continued: