I miss the old Kanye, straight from the ’Go Kanye Chop up the soul Kanye, set on his goals Kanye I hate the new Kanye, the bad mood Kanye The always rude Kanye, spaz in the news Kanye I miss the sweet Kanye, chop up the beats Kanye I gotta to say at that time I’d like to meet Kanye See I invented Kanye, it wasn’t any Kanyes And now I look and look around and there’s so many Kanyes I used to love Kanye, I used to love Kanye —from “I Love Kanye” song by Ye

 “You might say you miss the old Kanye,” Coodie Simmons offers in an understanding tone to viewers at the beginning of jeen-yuhs, Episode 1. Indeed, “old Kanye” is a refrain echoed continuously for roughly the last decade, by casual fans and superfans alike, referring to the young, boisterous, brash, seemingly unstoppable creative force that was Kanye West in the ’00s. 

What Coodie and co-director Chike illustrate in jeen-yuhs — the docu-trilogy covering Kanye’s career through the themes of “Vision” (Episode 1), “Purpose” (Episode 2) and “Awakening” (Episode 3) — is that the elements of Kanye that drew fans to him when he was a pink polo shirt and Louis Vuitton backpack among jerseys and platinum chains are the same elements that now sometimes give those same fans pause: His belief in himself, his belief in his vision and his single-minded focus on whatever is burning in his heart at the moment. 

Scientific law says the amount of energy in the universe has always been the same; it can neither be created nor destroyed — it just changes form. jeen-yuhs argues that the same is true of Kanye’s universe: The go getter from Chicago never went away. The mission targets simply changed. The same passion and enthusiasm he used to describe his plans for his career early on powered his Twitter rants years later. 

There couldn’t have been a more fitting debut single for Kanye than 2003’s “Through the Wire.” It’s a stark snapshot of everything about him: taking a career-stalling accident, turning it into a hit song, rapping through a jaw that was literally wired shut and figuring out a video concept (shot and edited when the label wouldn’t open his album budget). I’m going to guess the words stubborn, impatient and hard-headed were used by Kanye’s mom Dr. Donda West a lot when he was growing up. (I recognize only-child determination when I see it, but it’s a rare drive that inspires that kind of resourcefulness.) “No” and “later” simply weren’t options, and, as a result, the world got College Dropout, Kanye’s widely beloved debut album. In the perilous entertainment industry, ignoring no’s and refusing to wait can be the difference between success and obscurity. As a general life practice, however, it’s chaos. This is the thermodynamics of Kanye.

Kanye’s superpower is that he’s impossible to ignore, a by-product of his own self-belief. As a global artist with limitless platforms from which to influence public opinion, politics and faith, that can be concerning. As a young producer determined to be recognized as one of the greatest rappers in the game, Kanye turned hustle and determination into stratospheric success. jeen-yuhs reminds us of the raw, pure form of Kanye’s hustle and confidence. His internal battery of spirit was charged up by Donda West, who nurtured his ideas, supported his talents and committed his rhymes from middle school to memory. All of Kanye’s artwork went on the refrigerator at home — why wouldn’t he expect the world to have the same regard for his ideas? Fortunately, through most of his career, he’s been one of the rare cases where ego and talent are in sync.

Coodie’s footage from 2002 on shows Kanye’s belief in Kanye. Early in his career, that looks like playing his music for every rapper and fellow producer he knows, convincing them to give him a feature, give him studio time and advocate for him with A&Rs and label brass — to spread the word that he’s as good a rapper as he is a producer, if not better. It looks like putting folks on notice, some to their amusement, that he’s documentary-worthy. “It’s a little narcissistic,” he admits, “but fuck it.”  

Later, Kanye evangelism looks like more elaborate visuals, more conceptual live productions, bigger ideas, disruptive on-camera moments and questionable social and political commentary. The new Kanye evangelists look much different than the artists and producers he was playing music for in the beginning. But the intensity never subsides. Once Kanye’s respected as a producer, he aspires to be an elite rapper. Once he’s an elite rapper, he wants in on the fashion world. With every milestone he hits, there’s immediately another door to kick down because the gatekeepers aren’t already inviting him in. Kanye has spent his entire career with an underdog mindset. 

jeen-yuhs doesn’t attempt to pass judgment or provide answers about Kanye’s more polarizing moves, but it does leave room to interpret them as misdirected energy — possibly thrown out of alignment by the loss of his mother, by living with bipolar disorder or both. A big takeaway is that, in the spirit of true evangelism, Kanye really does believe that realizing his visions - getting out his dreams - is for the betterment of everyone. From Chicago to the rap game to the fashion game to the world. He built his brand around it — it’s part of his urgency.

Kanye West is not a figure who inspires ambivalence. You’re going to have a definitive feeling about him, about his art, about his opinions, his (public) life — whether positive, negative or some tangled combination of the two. What he’s worked for his entire life, not just career, is affirmation for people to touch and agree that he’s a genius. That he’s a great. That he sits among the Steve Jobs and Walt Disneys, people whose innovation broke beyond their industries and changed culture on the whole. jeen-yuhs won’t convert the nonbeliever, but it will provide insight. It may even provide reconciliation for those who were with Kanye from the beginning and haven’t known what to make of the last several years, much like Coodie himself, through the realization that all the iterations of Kanye are still Kanye.