Man Off the Moon: The Musical Journey of Kid Cudi
September turned out to be a roller coaster month for Kid Cudi. First, he contributed to a sizable chunk of Travis Scott’s second album, regretfully titled like a bad run-on sentence. Then he fired off a Twitter rant (because this is how we solve problems in 2016) at the hip-hop community in general and Kanye West and Drake in particular. Finally, he announced via his Facebook page that he will be checking into rehab due to “suicidal tendencies.” It’s been a rough road, but if that’s what it takes for Scott Mescudi to solve his life and get back to making beautiful music, but more importantly enjoy the process that contributes to him making beautiful music, we all should be dutifully behind it.
Let me lead with a statement that may just be obvious from the fact that I took the time to sit down and write this article. I am a Kid Cudi fan. He has not only created beautiful music (Man on the Moon II: The Legend of Mr. Rager is hauntingly beautiful to this day) he contributed “shadow” inspiration to some of the most influential artists of our time. Why else do you think the world’s resident megalomaniac has kept Cudi around to elevate songs like “All of the Lights” and “Father Stretch My Hands Pt. 1” even though he has not been part of G.O.O.D. for close to half a decade now. Kanye, like many of us, saw the potential of Cudi’s musical talent and ambition (it seems that they also sorted out their beef, which is exceptional news because I am not sure if Kanye has thanked Cudi enough for 808s yet).
More than inspiration, Cudi has served as a guiding influence for a lot of artists. As recently as last month I referred to Travis $cott as “the trap Kid Cudi,” and with Cudi himself pulling up on upwards of three tracks on Birds, it’s easy to make that connection. I actually didn’t know the extent to which he was involved with $cott’s new album and my first reaction was “this shit sounds like something Kid Cudi would make.” Joke was on me. That was something Kid Cudi made. Or helped make. Or inspired.
His musical execution was often outpaced by personal ambition. Much like with $cott’s first album, most of Cudi’s music (except for MotM II) contained stretches of genius overshadowed by the shortcomings of what an album could have been. He was never too scared to experiment and push us out of our comfort zone releasing not only traditional projects but also albums like WZRD and Speedin Bullet To Heaven, which was basically his “I didn’t learn a lick from Lil Wayne and the Rebirth fiasco.” Most of it, outside of Legend of Mr. Rager fell agonizingly short — that special brand of “you’re so close we can all almost touch, but you just went and fucked it up at the end” short.
In fact, most of Cudi’s best work comes when he is collaborating (read: being pushed by) someone else beside him. Like a planet orbiting a bright, tirade powered star, his best work came from proximity with Kanye West and I by no means say this as a detriment. Say what you say about Kanye. Yes saying his sense of pride is over-inflated is like saying Trump has only an average temperament. Yes he has become a vampire of social drama. And yes he has certainly taken his fandom for Star Wars further into the high-fashion world than anyone expected, but the man knows talent and knows how to get the most out of it.
Kanye West has staked himself on Cudi, Pusha T and Chance The Rapper and look how those turned out. Even Desiigner is incoherently mumbling his way across the music charts as we speak. Kanye is expert at identifying unique talent and then squeezing the most out of it. Consider him locking Pusha T in the studio until his “Runaway” verse was the right mix of angry and passionate. He is able to distill the one defining ability of a person’s musical identity and build it up through a grueling process that in the end is very much worth it. That’s what he tried to do with Cudi.
Cudi’s music is highly personal. Even when it isn’t. A lot of his catalogue does deal with depression and drug abuse, directly or not. He gives us glimpses into a troubled soul, but unlike Travis $cott, Cudi does not bathe in his hedonistic excesses and the the joyous relief from reality they grant you. He wallows in the melancholy of the aftermath. The dark place where if you stay too long you might just get stuck. His best work is often his darkest.
When I be tweaking she be calming a brother
Like the touch from a mother
I am so damn comfortable I never want to leave it
The feeling is something like a spiritual healer
That could end me, I think that’s the part I find intriguing
A little bit off I am, I am, I am
I see that im caught I am, I am, I am
It’s something like a spiritual healer that could end me
I think thats the part I find intriguing, im fiending
He goes off in the end, speaking of getting lost in the drugs and the intriguing part of how close to the edge they bring you. He describes the sensation of being high and the inevitable aftermath of the crash with intimate detail, documenting both the uplifting beginning an the fading sensation that comes shortly after as he himself fades away into the “I ams” of the verse itself. The closest Cudi came to flashing his blown out depression was on “Ghost!”.
See things, do, come, around and make sense, eventually
Things, do, come, around but some things, trouble me
The whole song is peppered with musings as he goes back and forth between appreciating the journey but also accepting the consequence of loneliness. He admits to both confusion with the world and his loneliness within it. The whole song is like a crash from a very joyous trip. You can hear it deflate and stutter, slow down and quietly take it into the depth of his alone-ness.
Songs are an emotional conduit for what we feel inside, but they can also amplify a certain feeling. I cannot definitively say whether or not Cudi was depressed early in his career, although his bouts with substance abuse are heavily documented throughout, but I don’t have to to see how we got here. Sing about the darkness long enough and it comes for you. Ask for it and it obeys. Without guidance and support of those around him, the artists that served as both a safety net and a motivational lever, it seems the darkness finally got to Scott Mescudi. He was left alone and he turned his talent into something darker, more harrowing than we could have imagined during the early days (even though the lyrical signs were there).
That being said, I understand where he is coming from. I myself have had a documented bout with depression where I decided to seek help, where I felt like if I don’t solve my life now, I will never solve it. I needed help, I was open about it and I went for it. That was right around Man on the Moon II. It was a special album because it could help me very well articulate how I felt. For someone who perceives themselves as being at the end of the road, that is important. MotM II was a sign that I was not alone, it was a bright flare, burning through the darkness. Cudi’s emotional energy was mine and he was not afraid to talk about it, and neither would I.
I’m better now, but the special connection with the album remains. These things do not disappear or fade quietly into the night. The darkness still comes back on occasion and that is why The Legend of Mr. Rager is never far away. And every time I listen to it, that talent that’s on displace is two steps, two songs, two verses away from transcendent. I want Cudi to get there. I want him to give us an album that’s emotionally liberating for him and us, that is generational, that is genre defining. I know he can do it, I can hear it when he is on “All of the Lights”, I can hear it when he is on “Father Stretch My Hands”, I can hear it on “Welcome to Heartbreak” and I can hear it on “Ghost!”. Now he needs to hear it too.
Cudi. We’re with you.
