Have You Lost Your Ever-Loving Mind?

At Joel Osteen’s megachurch, rap artist, Kanye West, declared that he, “the greatest artist God ever created,” was dedicating his gifts to the service of God. “Greatest artist ever created…”? Kanye, you ever heard of Leonardo da Vinci, or Michelangelo? How about Bach, Beethoven, or Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart?

You would place your works above Shakespeare, who once wrote: “There is a tide in the affairs of men when taken at its flood leads on to fortune. Omitted, all his life is bound in the shallows.” You, Kanye, could not deliver such profundity if God gifted you with a thousand years.

But, let's not go there. Let’s narrow this strange debate down to America – more specifically to African-Americans. Kanye speaks as though the only artists who matter are those who performed during his brief stint of cognizance – as though God’s work was middlin’ up until then. I must ask: “Kanye, are you crazy?”

You would casually pass over Marvin Gaye, who iconic “What’s Going On?” challenged billions worldwide to think about what we are doing to ourselves and our planet. Ever hear of Ray Charles, Nat King Cole, Ella Fitzgerald? How about Sam Cooke, Dinah Washington, Curtis Mayfield, and Michael Jackson? And what artists have dug grooves so deep as Miles Davis, John Coltrane, Charlie “Bird” Parker, and Louis Armstrong? When Aretha Franklin sang “Respect”, you must have been asleep. How else could you discount her artistic excellence, as well as the heights achieved by Dionne Warwick, and Diana Ross? Hey, ever hear of James Brown?

These people were imbued with a thing we called “soul”. It ran like a river through the black community. Long a hallmark of the African-American experience, this sublime spirit became the thoroughfare by which the passion African-America was unleashed. It was especially evident in the music and dance of black folk throughout the 40s, 50s, 60s, and 70s. That precious commodity began to wane in the 80s and 90s. It, perhaps reared its head one last time on the shoulders of Whitney Houston. With her demise, it settled into the moribund state that characterizes “soul” in the black community today. This new bread of African-American artists, lacking the soul of their predecessors, now load up on whatever they think will sell. They do a lot of sellin’, but it sho’ ain’t soul.

The hip-hop artists of Kanye’s ilk are not such great artists as they are revolutionaries. They have influenced young African-America to make a severe left turn, and speed down a highway devoid of the sense of history that fostered its soul – that sense that had made African-America a great and viable community. These rap artists reflect a vanity that is terribly self-destructive – that has replaced “rhythms and blues” with “nigguhs” and “bitches.” They think they have arrived. They are very proud. 

Some may say I over-reacted to Kanye’s controversial remarks. Perhaps, except that would suggest that Kanye was merely speaking in jest. That would also lead one to imagine that Joel Osteen had brought Kanye before his church to crack jokes. Joel is a serious man; Kanye is delusional. Delusional men do not crack jokes, they believe.