By Jacob Lloyd

As I write this article, Kanye West’s 2004 rap masterpiece The College Dropout booms through my headphones. As the intricate melodies, innovative beats and autochthonous lyrics flow, I consider how Kanye’s life, music and persona have changed since he released this debut album 18 years ago. Kanye’s relationship with his fans has evolved from being their best-kept secret to becoming an almost god-like figure in their eyes, essentially starting a cult. 

My personal fandom of Kanye began when I was 11, after hearing his 2007 hit single “Stronger.” This song amazed my innocent ears; it was as if after years of listening to the same old, rehashed, boring top 40 hits my mind had been exposed to a new universe of music. The mixture of electronic and rap, the vocoder being used in a fresh, almost anti-synth-pop manner, the lyrics that were simultaneously brilliant and perfectly simple–all this intrigued me. I solidified my position as a Kanye fan after listening to his universally acclaimed ‘magnum opus’ My Beautiful Dark Twisted Fantasy. Then I moved on to the original, more soulful Kanye by listening to The College Dropout and Late Registration. Following this, I dipped my toe into the more experimental, industrial, Trap-oriented Yeezus and The Life of Pablo. Yet, as I would listen to these albums, I would simultaneously learn more about Kanye’s life and his many controversies. His actions, from the infamous “I’m a let you finish Taylor” interruption at the 2009 VMA’s to the egotistical 2006 Rolling Stone cover where he donned a crown of thorns to demonstrate his likeness to Jesus, both outraged and intrigued me. 

I became aware of all of these controversies, but I chose to ignore them. To me, his actions weren’t too serious–many musicians, from Mozart to Morrissey, were a bit eccentric. I knew of these oddities, but I had little care, as his music held such a fond place in my heart that I wouldn’t let a few over-published gossipy stories hinder my love for Kanye. At that time, something miraculous would need to happen for my love of Kanye to falter. 

Then something miraculous did happen. In December of 2016, much to the awe of critics and fans of Kanye, the famed rapper met with president-elect Donald Trump, essentially endorsing Trump as president. This event both deeply saddened and shocked me. How was Kanye going to support a man whose policies had been considered racist, islamophobic, and xenophobic and who had said that Mexican immigrants are “rapists” and that “they bring crime”?

Furthermore, Kanye was someone who stood against racism and the Republican party for so long. In 2005, he said that the then-Republican president “did not care about black people;” in 2011, he donated money to Barack Obama’s 2012 presidential re-election campaign; and in 2014, he donated 15,000 dollars to the Democratic National Convention. I felt not only let down by Kanye because of his affiliation with a figure so heavily disapproved of but also because he had betrayed his old persona that all his fans fell in love with. He was going directly against much of what he espoused in his earlier music. 

I tried to ignore Kanye’s support for Trump, yet my confidence in Kanye was weakening. I thought that perhaps it was some poorly delivered message on counter-culture figures and cancel culture. Perhaps it was for constructive reasons like Kanye campaigning for prison reform. I gave every excuse for why his behaviour was acceptable and sold myself on the idea that he would improve, yet Kanye kept on acting in weird ways. In 2018, he said slavery was a “choice,” and in that same year, he met with Trump for a second time, and the two appeared even more amicable than in their previous meetings. I had lost faith in Kanye. I couldn’t justify supporting this man any longer when he was actively violating everything I believed in. I stopped listening to the music I had once had such a great passion for. I had abandoned Kanye.

However, over time I began to question myself. Is it possible to separate Kanye’s art from his personality? Should Kanye’s actions affect his music’s meaning to me and the place it has in my heart? Eventually, I came to the conclusion that I should be able to enjoy his music, on the condition that I don’t support his immoral actions. If I could truly separate the art from the artist, I would be able to ethically consume his music in a way that pleases me. I asked my friend and fellow Kanye fan Lee Williams his thoughts on Kanye’s actions. Lee said that “in some ways Kanye’s actions add to his ethos as an egotistical Christlike figure, but in other ways, they simply tarnish his legacy.” Lee went on to add, “While I find his actions stupid and disapprove of them, I enjoy his music far too much to let his stupidity hinder my passion for his music.” 

Ultimately, there is no answer to the ethical dilemma of “should I support the art of someone whose personal views I disagree with.” Art means something different to everyone and is symbolic of something unique to each person. However, the important thing is to make clear that while you support the music, you don’t support the artist’s actions. Yet, striking that balance between musical appreciation and personal support is difficult as listening to an artist’s music is a form of financial support. Ultimately, this dilemma is unsolvable as everybody has their own notion of support and everybody has their own idea of appreciation. It’s very easy to crossover from musical appreciation to personal endorsement, and that is where the conflict is in being a fan of a controversial artist. My respect and support for Kanye has decreased dramatically since I started listening to his music years ago. His outrageous actions and diminishing returns have made it impossible for me to defend him as an artist to my friends who hate Kanye. Yet, his music is still  important to me. I think Kanye is one of the greatest musicians of the 21st century but unfortunately also one of the most shocking. To any new fans of Kanye West I would say that while his music is fantastic, make sure not to idolize him or treat him as a role model as he is a deeply flawed person.