Kid Cudi Feels Pain Too
Esquire Magazine is not a platform that I frequent often, but last year they wrote a story about Kid Cudi that really moved me to reframe my understanding of how I worked within my artistic field (I am currently pursuing acting in the New York City). I found myself despondent over the collapse of my career field as the fall of 2020 came around, and was questioning whether I even liked theater to begin with. I had become so disengaged with my art and my college depression had begun to creep back up on me. I was lost — and then I read this article about the journey of Kid Cudi and it moved me to no end.
The story took me by surprise, because at first it started off in the present day as simply an exploration into how Kid Cudi landed his most recent project: a role on HBO’s “We Are Who We Are”. The narrative form was effective enough; the writer, Brendan Klingenberg, intersperses writing about Kid Cudi’s journey with writing about Kid Cudi’s demeanor in the interview and his actual commentary on his role in the new show. The setting starts out as a calm one, with Klingenberg and Cudi simply conversing about Cudi’s newest acting challenge. Klingenberg’s voice pushes the story along in a clean, efficient manner while Cudi’s adds perspective and vulnerability to the piece — the two characters carry the story together well.
But the most effective aspect of this story, for me, was halfway through the piece when the story shifted to the past tense — a frank discussion and exploration of Kid Cudi’s challenges with depression and anxiety. Here the interplay between Klingenberg reciting of Cudi’s darkest moments and Cudi’s soft, painfully honest commentary on the subject matter captured my consciousness. The conflict was clear — Cudi had an electric connection to his art, but his success was eating him alive. The narrative doesn’t stay on the tragic subject matter too long, which I think is perfect because it allows you to feel Cudi’s pain without losing yourself in it. Just like that, Kid Cudi is describing how he was able to take a step back, allow himself the space to be his true self, and re-emerge onto the scene hungrier, happier, and healthier than ever. His quote “I’m really learning the art of pacing myself,” at the end of the arc about his mental health journey made me tear up; Cudi’s vulnerability in this story moved me to not only appreciate his work but to also take action in my own life and learn how to manage myself in the face of wanting to reconnect with my art. No longer would I just sit there waiting for the artistic world to recover from the pandemic; now I would wake up every day asking tough questions of myself so that I could meet the world with honesty and vulnerability like never before.
The story ended with a satisfying exploration into how Kid Cudi had taken the lessons he learned in his mental health journey and incorporated them into the new path of artistic success he is currently on. Fittingly, the narrative ends with Cudi musing “I just want people to know that I’m really, really happy.” This story was moving and caused me to take action in my own life, but in terms of shorter form multimedia content it may be harder to appreciate. Moreover, it’s not an advertisement or a call to political action; it’s cry for movement is one experienced rather than heard. But I think by using Cudi’s stirring quotes coupled with well-framed images of the reinvigorated musician would get a lot of viewers to read the article and feel what I felt that cool autumn day. I especially think that by focusing on Cudi’s mental health advocacy, the call to action — the action being dedication to taking care of your state of mind — would be clear, even in short-form multimedia form.
This Kid Cudi story changed me for the better, and it’s clear to me after careful analysis that the narrative framework of the story played a big role in capturing my attention. Klingenberg’s words, Cudi’s vulnerability, and the beautiful interspersed photography by Nabil Elderkin played together in a way that made me listen and made me act. Oh and the ending? Just beautiful. Simple and sweet, as Cudi muses “I just want people to know that I’m really, really happy.”