Kanye West’s Donda
Kanye West doesn’t finish albums anymore, but that’s because he’s not making them. If there is anything to be gleaned from the outwardly bizarre will-he, won’t-he rollout of Donda— featuring ever shifting release dates, three separate listening events and a Phantom-of-the-Opera-style residency in Atlanta’s Mercedes-Benz Stadium—it’s that the spectacle has always been what’s important to Kanye. He did warn us “Wait 'til I get my money right / Then you can't tell me nothing, right?” on Graduation’s “Can’t Tell Me Nothing,” after all. Now, with access to an inconceivably large platform and pool of capital, the rapper, singer, songwriter, producer and fashion mogul’s tenth studio album comes the closest yet to sanctifying his trademark madness, resulting in one of his most personal and least focused works. And how could it not be? Kanye’s mother and religious mentor, Donda West, for whom the album is named, has always loomed large in his music and—as she so eloquently underscores on the album’s title track—is responsible for embedding in her “so decidedly different” son a superhuman belief in himself. From the very beginning, her instruction has been felt in the gospel-adjacent “Jesus Walks” and then, after her passing, in the grief that consumed 808s & Heartbreak—in particular “Coldest Winter”—as well as Ye’s subsequent public unraveling, diagnosis with bipolar disorder and evangelism.
In its finest moments, Donda finds Kanye West reckoning with the memory and loss of his mother more candidly than ever before. Within the context of his broader discography, the album represents a clear progression from the attitude of Yeezus, content of Jesus Is King and meandering presentation of The Life of Pablo. Its nearly 2 hour long track list features some of the most extraordinary textures Ye and his veritable army of collaborators have ever achieved. The gorgeous “Jesus Lord” reverberates with a sparse and holy energy that typifies both points, containing Ye’s most impactful and focused verse in years (minus that cringeworthy Buzz Lightyear rhyme). “Come to Life” is what My Beautiful Dark Twisted Fantasy’s “Runaway” could have been, representing, dare it be said, a humbling in West’s life perspective replete with pristine layerings of piano and his best vocal performance on the record. The haunting should-be closing track “No Child Left Behind” is breathtaking and quieting in its dejected beauty. Sullying these, however, are inexcusable features that include a co-writing credit from accused sexual abuser Marilyn Manson on the excellent percussion-less “Jail,” with its chugging walls of wailing guitar harmonies and spectacular verse from Jay-Z, a far inferior verse from homophobe DaBaby on “Jail pt 2” that is anything but contrite (“I said one thing they ain't like, threw me out like they ain't care for me / Threw me out like I'm garbage, huh? / And that food that y'all took off my table / You know that feed my daughters, huh?”), and domestic abuser Chris Brown on the nonentity “New Again,” a less effective rendering of the rapturous The Life of Pablo’s standout “Waves.” If the inclusion of these features by Ye were to have some sort of redemptive meaning, it certainly is not reflected in their quality.
That is not to downplay the profoundly additive effect of the bulk of Donda’s other features. Kayne is nothing if not a masterful producer, and throughout the track list he provides the space and sonic foundation for many artistic high points. Fivio Foreign’s real-time leveling up on the superb drill-influenced “Off The Grid” is a wonder to behold. So is Jay Electronica’s dense verse on the aforementioned “Jesus Lord.” The yin-yang of the Weeknd’s ethereal falsetto with Lil Baby on “Hurricane” is bested only by the transient vocal bliss of Don Toliver and Kid Cudi on the transporting “Moon.” While hardly novel, the welcome College Dropout throwback of “Believe What I Say,” with its splendid use of Lauryn Hill’s “Doo Wop (That Thing)” and groovy bass line, is another highlight that illustrates for the umpteenth time that no one can flip a sample like Ye. Hill’s inclusion lends a strong female presence that the album strangely lacks throughout, perhaps only equalled by the specter of Kim Kardashian West on the confessional “Lord I Need You.” As he clumsily addresses his troubled marriage, Ye bluntly reveals, as he does on “Come To Life,” that his own redemption is what motivates his spiritual struggles. Where the fame and success he’s achieved have failed, in its best moments, Donda shows that the key to Kanye’s salvation may lie in what brought him both in the first place: his artistry.
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If you like Donda, check out:
A Beautiful Revolution, Pt. 2 by Common
Certified Lover Boy by Drake
Kids See Ghosts by Kids See Ghosts
King’s Disease II by Nas
DAYTONA by Pusha T