Kanye West and the Art of Mass Hypnosis

There’s a spotlight on an empty bed in the middle of the floor, surrounded by a circular fence lined with black boxes, at Mercedes-Benz Stadium at 10:09 p.m. EST, on a pandemic Thursday with few masks in sight. Kanye West is trying Atlanta again, shortly. 

The show suddenly begins, and folks scramble to their seats in a joyous panic. Kanye West has turned Mercedes-Benz Stadium into his bedroom.

A rotating circle of people walk around Kanye’s bed as he does push-ups, gets in and out of bed, and is just kinda there. These people, dressed in all black, walk together — sometimes slowly, other times quickly — around and around.

You know all of this, because you either watched, read about it, shared it, liked it, dissed it or attended it last night in Atlanta, so we shouldn’t have to do the usual recap here.

Besides, what we should be talking about, rather than lying to help Kanye, is how this whole two week fiasco was allowed to happen. And we should ask ourselves if this was a scam.

They say scammers know exactly what kinds of people will make the perfect marks. There’s a psychological profile of sorts. The victim is usually someone who is not on their guard, and vulnerable/trusting to a fault. They also see their abuser as someone they can trust. 

And worse, even when the foolery has been revealed to them, these good people tend to keep their loss quiet, usually because they are embarrassed to admit they’ve been bested. 

The best scammers are charmers. Whether it’s music, conversation, humor, fragrance or whatever, they know how to pull you in and make you feel understood, while your unwillingness to see the extractive nature of your relationship keeps you from noticing they never quite do what they say they will, and they always need more of your money, and a little more time.

Imagine paying $120 for two “performances,” then $120 for a long sleeve t-shirt promoting an album that still isn’t out, and might not even sound the same as it did when you paid all that money. Plus parking fees. Plus food and drink money (and God forbid you got hungry).

Imagine attending a massive, public event during a pandemic of mostly mask-less people, while virus transmission rates are rising and millions of people refuse vaccination, and the only thing you ended up taking home was an expensive-ass basic t-shirt, less money, and perhaps the Delta variant.

Kanye understands a very simple principle about being a celebrity or a well-known brand in America. There’s a level of fame, as we’ve seen many times, that turns people from folks who are really interested in serving their fans, and those who are addicted to serving themselves. 

People lie for Kanye. People give freely to Kanye. When he speaks, people twist themselves into knots trying to explain shit that just doesn’t math. Remember when he called slavery “a choice”? Maybe it’s one Kanye West fans need to make in their own minds.  

It’s close to midnight back at the Kanye West “album release” party, and the music is still playing at Mercedes-Benz but folks don’t seem to be as excited as the show drags on. Kanye’s not doing anything noteworthy, and it feels boring. The scam feels a little easier to spot as time drags on.

And it’s unfortunate, because judging from how the album sounded this time, Donda might be a pretty solid album. 

But nobody really came to listen to an album; they’re barely bobbing their heads. They’re just here for the hype, which they aren’t getting, so they start generating it on their own. They don’t want to consider that Kanye doesn’t care. He’s too big to fail. They’re too invested now.

That rotating circle of people is still walking around Kanye’s bed. Dressed in all black, they walk together, over and over around him — sometimes slowly, other times quickly — wheels turning around and around.

Their movement had a kinetic, peace-inducing visual effect, and next thing I knew, I was just staring at it. They too had wanted to be part of it, but ain’t no way some of the folks walking around this dude weren’t thinking to themselves, at the same time, “Man, this is some bullshit.”

You’ve probably seen a hypnosis spiral before. Imagine hundreds of people in all black, walking around next to each other, flowing together in the form of a giant, circulating ring, sometimes with lines moving in opposite directions. Watching it for stretches of time, it felt like something you’d do if you wanted to keep an entire stadium in a trance, or pick someone’s pocket without them realizing it.

It’s not like the world hasn’t already been in an induced state of mental slumber when it comes to Kanye West’s last few years. He has hit records, has made some incredibly dope sneakers, and inspired many with some incredible moments, both personality-wise and through the craft of his undeniable creativity.

But he’s also been problematic in ways we don’t need to go over. And it seems we’re all too invested in him to stop, pay attention, and stop paying attention. It’s clear that attention is really all he wants to get paid, and paid for, anymore.

And it ain’t just us. Other folks in Atlanta are starting to notice.

As the show ends, a man who people are now saying may not even have been Kanye is hooked to cables and pulled up toward the roof of Mercedes-Benz Stadium, as a spotlight shines down on him. They, like me, know this is all a farce, yet still can’t wait to get on the internet and share the experience. We are all mesmerized.