Kanye's '808s & Heartbreak' somber not showy

Kanye West, "808s & Heartbreak" (Rock-A-Fella/Mercury/Island), 1/2

Kanye West has joined the pre-Thanksgiving sales race with an album that is alternately brave and despondent, eccentric and puzzling.

Last year, he was up against 50 Cent, who released an album on the same day. This time West is battling with Guns N' Roses and The Killers. While the rockers are sounding upbeat for the shopping season, West has turned introspective.

The title says it all: "808s & Heartbreak." The 808 comes from the Roland TR-808 drum machine that skitters throughout, as if West didn't know how to turn it off.

The heartbreak follows a difficult 12 months. The star's mother Donda, who was also his manager and mentor, died after complications from cosmetic surgery; then he and designer Alexis Phifer ended their 18-month engagement. The simple cover shows a saggy balloon in the shape of a squashed heart.

West, 31, has thrown himself into his work. This year, he picked up another four Grammy Awards and turned his turmoil into this CD, which won't make for the lightest of holiday listens, though it's worth staying the course.

The album is a contrast to West's previous work: somber not showy, bashful not boastful. His resume is built on celebrations of commercialism. This time he asserts, on the closing "Pinocchio Story": "there is no Gucci I can buy,/ there is no Louis Vuitton to put on/ to get my heart out of this hell/ or my mind out of this jail."

He sings through an autotuner to hit the right notes on every track and sounds like a robot with its memory banks about to burst from emotional overload. His machine-gun rhymes and hip-hop have been thrown out with the garbage. The only bravado rap comes when Young Jeezy and Lil Wayne pop up for cameos.

Millionaire rock stars who moan about their lot risk sparking jealousy. A derailing of West's train-size ego might draw smiles after his rants on the few occasions when he hasn't won awards.

What saves this CD, though, is West's creativity. There are fractured disco beats, 1960s pop, 1970s glam and glacial washes of Enya ambience.

"Coldest Winter," about West's late mother, turns the doomladen "Memories Fade" by Tears for Fears into a techno groove and is bleakly beautiful: "If spring can take the snow away/ can it melt away all our mistakes?" West asks. "Goodbye my friend/ I won't ever love again, never again."