When we put together a post on artists Kanye West should sign, we imagined what it would be like if Kanye signed an elephant to G.O.O.D. Music. In this post we take things further—perhaps too far. In fact, much too far. This is what happens after Kanye signs the elephant. These are the adventures of Kanye West and Sheba the elephant.
When Kanye West first signed Sheba, the reaction was overwhelmingly positive. Aside from a few cock-ish haters who called it a publicity stunt, most people thought it was hilariously entertaining or next-level inspiring. More than anything, it seemed like a statement, although nobody seemed to know exactly what it meant. Like, when Kanye wore that kilt or the Yeti mask, that was performance art right? Like, it meant something in some larger context, correct? If nothing else, it was cool. And it's not really even worth arguing about: signing an elephant to G.O.O.D. Music was fucking cool.
But after a few weeks, things started to get real. It was no longer, "Ohhh shit, Kanye signed a damn elephant!"
It's 10 p.m. and the Clique is sitting in the studio. Kid Cudi and 2 Chainz stand in opposite corners with headphones on. Common is drinking green tea and writing in a notepad. Big Sean is doing the same, but his tea cup has three tea bags in it and as he scribbles he is mouthing "boiiii" and "swerve" and other various sounds and it becomes clear that he's just trying to come up with a new adlib. Eventually he settles on "cunt!" Later, labels executives would hold a very private meeting to let Sean know that this wasn't a good idea. They recommended "yip!" instead. Sean didn't object.
All of a sudden, everyone stops what they're doing and looks up and toward the door. Even through the padded walls of the studio, you could hear the unmistakable trumpeting of an elephant.
"Is 'Ye really gonna bring that damn elephant in here again?"
Pusha T was not happy. His face was all scrunched up like a floppy bean bag cushion. "Man, that elephant fucked up the studio last time, how're we supposed to work on my new album with this damn elephant marching around in here? Man, fuck this damn elephant! Can't 'Ye get a goddamn pet dog or a goddamn pet fish? Shit, be all trend-setter-y and get a goddamn koala, I don't give a fuck! Can't we get some work done for once instead of goddamn Sheba coming in here, shitting all over the place, breaking everything with her stomping ass elephant feet!?"
Kanye walks in through the modified doors (he had a wall knocked down) big enough for an elephant. He's holding a leash. Attached to it is Sheba, an African elephant that stands 8 feet tall and weighs 5,500 pounds. She moves slowly and calmly, but her eyes appear on-edge and nervous; it's as if she knows that a beast of her size and strength doesn't belong in a recording studio.
Pusha jumps up and runs to the door. "Kanye! Sheba! Welcome!"
He high fives Kanye and goes for a chest-bump but Kanye turns his entire body to the side and makes a disappointed face. "You know I don't chest-bump, man."
"I know, I know. Maybe one day!" Pusha says with a smile. He walks over to Sheba and goes in for an eskimo kiss. He leans in toward the end of Sheba's trunk, but when she whips her long, grey appendage away he goes for her mouth. Sheba sneezes on Pusha. He sheepishly laughs while 'Ye and Sheba calmly walk away toward the rest of the crew.
The crew greets Kanye and Sheba with respect. "How's it haaaaangin', my mammal?" 2 Chainz says, looking over the top of his shades at Sheba. He stares at her for a minute or so, like he expects her to respond. She stares through him, so he turns his attention to Kanye. Kanye stares through him also.
"So, I got this idea," Kanye exclaims. "I wanna make Pusha T's album. But instead of Pusha T rapping, I want it to be all Sheba samples. Like, yeah, they know that we got the trumpet, but Sheba makes all kinds of noises. Hey yo Sheba, do that snoring noise you was doing the other day!"
Sheba is still staring at the wall behind 2 Chainz. She doesn't respond to Kanye's request.
"Ah, she shy as hell!" Kanye laughs as he slaps Sheba leathery, rotund midsection. The Clique laughs.
For the next six months, Kanye brought Sheba to the studio every day. He recorded her grunts, moans, trumpets, and sneezes. Still not happy, Kanye's mind started to wander—he started to approach that thin line between creative genius and crazy. Desperately trying to push the boundaries, he began to record Sheba's farts. He recorded the sound of Sheba urinating and defecating. Then one day, Kanye snapped.
"Why we been here five months and we still don't have a Sheba album? We're missing something. There's something in this elephant that we're just not getting. We gotta try something new. AYOOOO Mr. Hudson! Get inside Sheba. I wanna see what Sheba sounds like from the inside."
"Get inside of Sheba? Kanye, that's crazy, you don't really want me to actually enter this elephant's body. That's just..."
At this point, Mr. Hudson had already walked over to Sheba, crouched down, spread her elephant vagina open, and started looking around. Before he finished his sentence, he was already inside of Sheba. He reached an arm out and you could hear him mumbling from inside Sheba's massive body.
"iiiiiiiivvvv eeeeeeee thaaaaa miiiiirrrroofffoo!!"
"What? We can't understand you, Mr. Hudson!" shouted the Clique.
Mr. Hudson stuck his head out, his bright blonde hair stuck to his head and drenched with fluids. "The microphone! Give me the microphone!"
Kanye grabbed a mic and placed it in Hudson's hand. Hudson retreated back inside. The following hours involved an ambulance, a $15,000 fine, and three broken bones. Kid Cudi cried twice, one recording studio employee quit, and Common said "What the fuck?" ten times.
Weeks later, in an interview, Kanye would say that this was the best recording session he's ever been a part of. Mr. Hudson and Sheba felt differently about it. The Clique never talked about this night again, and the recording sessions of Sheba's first album remain a dark chapter in the story of Kanye West and the G.O.O.D. Music collective.
They say that elephants never forget, but what Sheba experienced that night—the Clique all agreed—is best forgotten.CLICK TO CONTINUE READING