Dinner With Ye—
two years ago, i got a call on a random tuesday afternoon. I was working in the emergency room at ucla, in santa monica. it was my music manager..
“ayo prize*, would you rather take a check for $100,000 right now—or have dinner with kanye west tonight?” is this some sick joke? i asked.
“bro, seriously, i’m at work, what’s up?”
“i’m serious”.
“meet him at this address. i’ll text it to you now”.
my phone buzzed. I glanced down towards my phone, thinking this has to be a fucking joke. like unwanted emails from your local spammer emailing you that you’ve won a brand new car at a raffle, that you possibly might’ve signed up for.
at first, the answer felt obvious. a hundred grand is life-changing. rent paid, debts gone, a cushion for breathing. but something in me resisted the easy choice. i told him: “Dinner.” I wanted to actually see in person if this was real. worst case I show up to a restaurant, have a nice meal, and be on my way.
I saved the directions, and plugged it into waze. by 8:15 p.m., I was sliding into a discreet booth at a low-key restaurant tucked away in beverly hills. no paparazzi. just dim lights, soft leather, and hushed classical music playing through invisible speakers. thinking that my manager would jump out from the shadows, and yell “gotcha bitch!”.
I noticed only two people at the restaurant. a mid 30’s female bartender, with tattoos running down both her arms, sleeves, probably fully blasted, midway through making another alcohol concoction. The hostess, in her early 20’s, looked like it was her first job. ever. friendly with a warming demeanor. she noticed me walking in, she looked at me with her gazing eyes, and whispered with a soft spoken voice, and said, “he’s in the back”, and pointed. ye was already there, hoodie up, sipping sparkling water.*
i walked past rows of charcoal black and golden marble tables, that felt endless due to my anxiety. the restaurant had floor lights you only see in movie theaters, so you don’t trip, fall or, end up suing the company. I get to the last table, near the kitchen and back exit.
“you hungry?” he asked, eyes flashing with that mix of seriousness and play.
“absolutely, i am”.
he ordered the chef’s tasting menu. It came in eight fucking courses. eight. each one like a strange poem on a plate:
Menu:
—Oysters with yuzu foam and black truffle pearls
—Charred avocado tartare with sesame brittle.
—Seared scallops in ginger miso broth
—Duck confit bao with plum glaze
—Wagyu ribeye with wasabi béarnaise.
—Black cod with caramelized fennel and saffron oil
—Cheese course: cave-aged goat, blue veined cheddar, honeycomb.
—Chocolate soufflé with smoked sea salt ice cream
i kept cool, not inhaling all eight courses. pretending that I’ve been to many fancy places, like it was just another night out. between bites, ye talked like the night was an unfinished verse. he pulled out his phone, played snippets of unreleased tracks, humming along, sometimes rewriting lines mid-conversation. “this one’s not about perfection—it’s about the fracture that makes something whole.” we talked about life, his kids, and music, in a nutshell.
by dessert, he leaned back and said, “let’s go.”
“where?”
we ended up in calabasas, pulling into a studio compound that felt like a modern cathedral—white walls, glowing boards, cables like vines.
“put your phone in this drawer.” no questions asked, so i did. ye sat at the keys, nodding, telling me to throw the type of sounds i like using, in the air. i did. he caught them, reshaped them, threw them back with a heavy 808 monstrous bass underneath. I’ve never heard any 808s sound like that. ever. (I’d imagine that’s what a unicorn sounded like if it was hunting for its prey). synthesizers going haywire. or what it sounded like. I didn’t say much, just learned, studied. mostly just shocked from what was happening. is this real? no one would believe me anyway.
“i feel like we’ve come to a point where, a lot of samples, been used and reused to oblivion. i know. i’ve used them all.” as serious as someone can say. I held in my laugh. just confirmed with a slight nod, and a half smirked smile.
while he played a symphony of sounds, I programmed drums, and the percussions led the way.
“don’t use hi hats, I hate them”. is what I think he said. the beats blaring thru 8 different mounted highly expensive monitors*. (I used them anyways, in the final mix)
hours blurred into creation: beats stacking, my body layering. ye’s energy bending time itself. by dawn, we had twelve tracks, raw but undeniable. he grinned, hoodie still up, sweat beading.
“you can choose six songs*, do whatever you want with em. i’ll keep the rest.”
“we’ll call it ‘Dinner with Ye’,” he said. “because you didn’t take the money. you took the meal—and the time. I value time.”
and just like that, a choice that felt irrational became the only story worth telling…
[ dinner with ye’ is an ep, dedicated and in hopes to bring mental health awareness to the forefront. like myself, sometimes all we need is someone to listen, without any judgement. we all have our inner battles and struggles, that we can’t seem to let out. i can relate. this world can be too much.
the beats, and breakdowns, are metaphors for all the emotions we go through, every single day. the same melodies, that’s been spinning, through the universe, and different dimensions of my mind, will take you on a roller coaster of those emotions. one minute we can be filled with joy and laughter, and the next, you just want to close the door, shut the blinds, and scream. on the flip side, the music will make you want to be better. to challenge yourself. to love yourself. i hope this short, symphonic, 4 track, 16 min. 14 sec. musical journey can bring you that temporary peace you deserve. i know it has for me. <3 ]
listen exclusively here
‘Dinner With Ye’ available now.
prize, short for prizewell was a stage name I’ve had for the past twenty years being a dj, and then a music producer. This year, I felt like a different person, I’ve grown. I’ve changed. I’ve evolved into something more than “dj prizewell”. I’ve outgrown myself so much, and accomplished everything i needed to do, while under that psuedo. I was a completely different person. great things always come to an end, so did my name.
ye doesn’t drink alcohol.
(4) Yamaha NS10M, (4) Tannoy VQ 100 3-Way Dual 12 Large Format Loudspeakers
I used 4 tracks for the EP, and saved the other two, just for me.