Okay, so I spoke a little in class about how Walt Whitman’s work and his overall energies connect strongly to Kanye West’s. With that said, I think this conversation extends well beyond our Kanye case study, as proclaiming one’s own artistic authority has become a verbal paradigm in modern lyrical arts.
Throughout history, some of literature’s biggest names have not resisted the urge to openly smile upon their own work, oftentimes within those very creations. Milton declares Paradise Lost the epic to end all epics, Ben Franklin is not shy about his pursuit of “perfection” in his autobiography, and Mark Twain assumes the voice of truth in his essay What is Man? However, these declarations were episodic at best, and were made at the point of artists’ careers when they were well-earned. In this respect, Whitman is the outlier. He doesn’t wait for the final publishing of Leaves of Grass to announce his place in poetic history as one who “visit(s) the orchards of God,” and “see(s) and hears the whole world,” and embodies “any presence or truth of humanity,” and I think you get the point. Those are all quotes from “Song of Myself,” and similar sentiments resonate throughout all of Whitman’s work, in every edition of Leaves of Grass. This insistence on the author’s own authoritative grandiosity and its subsequent widespread acceptance by his audience is unprecedented in history leading up to Whitman. In hip-hop terms, Whitman changed the game.
So where does that leave us now? We know Kanye makes no issue with inhabiting the Whitman-esque ego, but he merely stands at the apex of a trend that has diluted the pop and hip-hop communities. From Rick Ross’ “BOSS” mantra to Lil Wayne’s “best rapper alive” claim, it appears that strong egos have become the rule, not the exception. Here, we walk into some dangerous territory. We are at a point in the lyrical arts where artists can make grandiose claims to their own greatness without having earned the right. Sure, the most seasoned listeners among us will be right to dismiss the novice young artist’s rhymes, but others are bound to gives endorsement. That’s how you get Soulja Boy, Waka Flaka, Chief Keef, and many other Whitman wannabes. In the spirit of hip hop, all we can say is RIP to Whitman, a real OG.
great post on the original OG–one who proclaimed his fame and ascendency long before it was realized. I guess that’s a certain kind of swagger, then. This might make an interesting meditation for a more substantial research paper (perhaps with KW as case study)!