Kanye West Does Not Take Criticism Well

Yesterday Entertainment Weekly wrote a review of Kanye West’s Glow in the Dark Tour performance, based on his performance in Seattle, Washington. Kanye admits his ego is huge, and he is a huge narcissist, so it comes as no surprise that any and all criticism he receives is unwelcome, and he gets furious. Kanye doesn’t use criticism to improve, he gets revenge because he thinks everything he does is already perfect, so no one can tell him anything, because he already knows it all.

I saw Jewel in Spokane, Washington around 5 or 6 years ago, and she was incredible. At the time I thought she was the hardest working woman in music. For a smaller like Spokane, Jewel gave a New York performance. I then saw Jewel again in 2004 at the Walt Disney Concert Hall in Los Angeles, but this time Jewel’s performance was lazy, and she acted like she just wanted to hurry up and get through it. Jewel’s performance sucked the second time.

Kanye can’t be the best every time he plays, so he should at least consider a critic’s opinion, and be professional about his response, rather than sound like some sort of immature cry baby. I thought he would grow up some after his mother passed away, but obviously he hasn’t. Below is the article that ran in Entertainment Weekly yesterday:

When 2001: A Space Odyssey came out, it was famously advertised as ’’the ultimate trip.’’ For his headlining chunk of the Glow in the Dark Tour, Kanye West also takes fans on a galactic voyage, folding his hits into a wacked-out space opera that’s the ultimate ego trip. Normally, that’d be an insult, but with West, who’s made an art form out of dramatizing both humility and hubris, it’s mission accomplished.

On opening night in Seattle, West began by standing in front of a giant LED screen full of star fields. Soon, marooned on what the screen depicted as a desert planet, he reviewed his weaknesses back on earth: his pride (in the form of the fiercely self-mocking ’’Can’t Tell Me Nothing’’), harpies (his cautionary ’’Gold Digger’’), and the popular materialism/sex combo platter (’’Good Life’’). These produced in him a spiritual malaise that even a rendition of ’’Jesus Walks’’ couldn’t lift. So his only companion, the disembodied voice of his talking spaceship, Jane, tried some brownnosing: ’’We need the brightest star in the universe — you, Kanye! Only you can bring us home. You can glow in the dark!’’ Cue the rousingly Nietzschean ’’Stronger.’’ In space, no one can hear you scream, but if you’re West, everyone will hear you self-actualize.

Okay, so he’s a nut. Still, West’s commitment to communicating inner passions and identity crises is so consuming it nearly redeems any conceptual hokeyness. Eschewing hip-hop’s buddy system, West is his stage’s sole visible human, and he’s become a riveting soliloquist. Crouching on one knee, broken up, during ’’Hey Mama’’ — or pacing like a prizefighter during every other number — he gets you caught up in his journey to the center of the id and pulls off something rare: an intimate spectacle.

West may not allow other folks on stage during his set, but he’s generously assembled the most potent opening lineup in recent touring history, even if they don’t all maximize their potential. Lupe Fiasco has the material to make good on his ’’next Kanye’’ status, though he suffered from rapping to studio tracks (and ’’Kick, Push’’ deserves more than a reduced medley slot). By contrast, N.E.R.D. rocked out with their full-band set; Pharrell Williams is no great singer, but he’s a great party starter. The glam Rihanna provided respite from all this testosterone and packed an undeniable string of hits into her half hour, moving smoothly through light choreography. But her should-be slam dunk, ’’Umbrella,’’ felt off, with the rain-gear-wielding backup dancers working harder to sell the smash than she did. Maybe what Ri-Ri needs to ramp up the charisma is a good pep talk from West’s chatty spacecraft. B+

Kanye couldn’t control himself. His profanity laced response, which he posted on his blog, is below:

Yo, anybody that’s not a fan; don’t come to my show. For what?! To try and throw ya’ll two cents in? Ya’ll rated my album sh!tty and now ya’ll come to the show and give it a B+. What’s a B+ mean? I’m an extremist. It’s either pass or fail! A+ or F-! You know what, f**k you and the whole f**king staff!!! I know I shouldn’t dignify this with a comment, but the reviewer threw a jab at all the artists. I just wanna know when was the last time you enjoyed yourself. If you can’t have fun and lose yourself at this tour it’s a good chance you’re a very miserable person. I actually feel sorry for you guys. Your job forces you to not have fun anymore. Grab a drink, holla at some nice girls, and party b!tch!! You don’t know sh!t about passion and art. You’ll never gain credibility at this rate. You’re f**king trash! I make art. You can’t rate this. I’m a real person. I’m not a pop star. I don’t care about anything but making great art. Never come 2 one of my shows ever again, you’re not invited and if you see me…BOW!! This is not pop, it’s pop art!

What a cry baby! Whaaaaa!