The Moon Never Felt So Familiar

Discussing Kid Cudi, High School, and Self-Acceptance

2009 was the year of self-discovery and exploration for me. As a sophomore in High School, I was more fixated on which way I should part my hair and which band tee would match better with my black skinny jeans. I was more of a Spector, watching on the sidelines and judging those who carry on with their business like NPCs in an open-world RPG video game. For me, the coolness was in the eyes of the beholder, and I felt on top of the world with my swagger and cadence that impressed no one besides myself. In the mix of Norwegian Black Metal and Nordic Viking Metal in my gold iPod Shuffle were songs from

Andre3000 and Big Boi, taking the image of weird and happily empowering it. Who else could understand sitting in the bleachers, unnoticed, but completely aware of social status? Here comes a Kid named Cudi, the lonely stoner who rapped about freedom of self-identity and thought under the guise of full understanding of his character.  Cudi represented something “liberating” for the lonely and hopeless, and Mr. Solo Dolo was there to mend the broken hearts. 

As Cudi’s artistry progressed, so did his search for himself. His music was used as tools for the lost, the confused and misguided who fell back on the croons and whispers that not only connected with but related on a molecular level. His output eventually drifted from the happy-go-lucky positivity that crept as undertones to the anxiety and depression that filled the void between breaths. As much as Kid Cudi was seen as a savior for the voiceless, and the unheard — Cudi himself too, was soul searching. The heavy puffs of Marijuana smoke became more of a clutch in his self-imprisonment rather than his doors to mental freedom. Cudi was trapped, locked away in his mythos he created. 

As the years pass, Cudi has dropped project after project more experimental than the next. Side rock endeavors, albums influenced by the cosmic sounds of Space, and a resurgence of the days the man was on the moon. Cudi was going through a period of an identity crisis, and it wouldn’t be until continued work with Kanye West where he would regain confidence and put the pieces together.

Last night, Kid Cudi released “MOTM 3”, the seminal sequel in a trilogy that’s beloved and highly regarded by fans. Cudi delivers this tape during a time where tomorrow holds no guarantees between daily gun violence and a pandemic that shifted lives to the point outdoors are becoming unrecognizable. Hearing Cudi’s vocals alongside plucking strings during the first 30 seconds almost feels nostalgic. He’s back in a familiar place, fighting the angels and demons that play tug-of-war but this time he’s older, prepared, and accepting of the conditions life has placed in front of him. Cudi has become an artist comfortable in the confines of the universe he’s created, but it’s exactly that — his comfort.

As the first two entries in the saga were moments of understanding the man in the mirror, the third piece to the puzzle finds Cudi catapulting off of the nostalgia factor, caught in-between capturing the lightning in the bottle, and pushing the boundaries of personal growth. In this cinematic universe, Cudi is as comfortable in his skin as ever before. Man on the Moon was about feeling comfortable in your skin, understanding yourself before understanding others around you, and finding the groove that fits you best. MOTM III feels like a moment of acceptance, finally fitting into the crowd he watched from the outside for so long. Cudi is world-renowned, no longer unknown, and an outcast from the cool kids that found him too strange. In this world, he’s the kid picked first in gym class rather than last; the guy everyone wants to be friends with.