Archived
Life Imitating Art
Self-absorbed fans enacted the rap star's lyrics—and we had a front-row view
ald302@nyu.edu
Kanye West – a rap artist known as much for his narcissism as for his music—carried enough clout to sell out three recent shows at New York’s Madison Square Garden. After spending a week’s paycheck each on our tickets, my friend and I anticipated hot beats, but probably not-so-hot seats. Most importantly, we were ready to dance.
More than a few beers into the show, as Kanye warned the audience about female gold diggers in his sing-song fashion, my ears perked up to the sounds of a separate performance in the row behind us. An inebriated man and his blotto girlfriend were arguing aloud about their relationship. At a Kanye West concert. It was about his “insensitivity,” and a new rash in a particular area of her body.
This audible outrage soon spread, as the crazed woman proceeded to steal some of the members of West’s audience, pleading for their opinions about her boyfriend.
“Do you see how he treats me?” she cried out, grabbing the arm of an equally drunk and disoriented man seated on her other side. The man shrugged and mumbled something unintelligible into his beer.
“If you ain’t no punk, holla’ we want prenup. We want prenup!” Kanye sang from the stage below.
But he was losing the attention of the ticket holders in section 333, who were by now fully absorbed by the unbilled duet in row D. Song by song, beer after beer, his verses were counterpointed by improvised lyrics behind us. It was a quadraphonic sonic contest.
“Oh girl your silhouette make me wanna light a cigarette/my name Kanye from the Jigga set Twista said get it wet/Oh girl your breath is harsh, cover your mouth up like you got SARS…”
“Why were you going through my text messages? You’re such a nosey b—-, and I don’t even know where that text came from…”
“So how the hell could you front on me? There’s a thousand you’s and only one of me! I’m trippin’ I’m caught up in the moment, right?”
“Liar! Liar liar liar! If you didn’t cheat on me then how did I get this? Huh? Answer me!”
After West finished his one-man show, the still-clashing couple staggered down the steps towards the exit – the woman making one final declaration—in case we still hadn’t gotten the message – that she and her boyfriend were definitely over. They left together, nonetheless.
I’m sure West would agree with me that his concert is not the most appropriate venue at which to discuss these irritations. Then again: where would he be without couples like that?
Maybe I should have spent two weeks’ pay and gotten seats in the front.
The rap artist Kayne West (left) with a fan.
Photo Courtesy of Florentiny Miguel