Kanye West
Donda

FROM THE GOSPEL ACCORDING TO KANYE

Even if..

.. for K there is no such thing as being second, neither to Drake nor anyone else. Even if you've made an album that isn't your crowning achievement, because you believe that your life isn't at the peak of its diamond (then again, it depends on what Kanye considers a life at its zenith); even if more than an album, it's a long and intricate story, a mantra of 27 tracks that explode here and there, not shouting of novelty, but imploding with epicness, explicit and brazen, an indissoluble bond with the artist in question that towers over quality and sophistication with an ineffable arrogance. Kanye and his latest album represent how the artist allies with his art, concretely realizing it in the important endeavor of constantly feeding, like a fire on the beach, his aura of grandeur among his colleagues, in the eyes of fans and the public, to the point of becoming himself the deity he speaks of throughout the album, wanting to become a reference point for himself, and also for others. Possibly without being questioned.

Donda we like it but it's tough, the concept behind it is tough, the story behind it is tough, listening to it is tough, but it's always Kanye, he has a great story to tell, in this context linked to an event in his private life. And in his private life, it has become greatly public, in a continuous and profitable osmosis between the two spheres.

Donda is a black album, that doesn't ask for permission to be heard, that doesn't concede itself, but it is, if you like (and if you like it). Black leaves no room for imagination. Black doesn’t make you think. Black crushes you, a concrete block, tragic end of an experience full of colors that mix, contaminate, until they lose their singular identity and tone, until they completely cancel out and implode into the erasure of sense, becoming pitch black, dark, absence of light, of perception and visibility. Donda, released last August 29, signed by Universal after two years of waiting, presents itself like this, a black cover that encloses an existential meaning, a mourning, a loss difficult to fill, that is, that of Mrs. Donda West, mother, fan, manager of the American rapper. A long tale, a descent into the inferno of a head that sinks 27 tracks below sea level. On the surface, a 52-second litany, the first track of the album, an incessant repetition of the mother's name, Donda, as if it were necessary to imprint that name in memory, to ensure it is always there; repetition is the realm of prayers, of rituals, which somehow rely on the "objectification" of the word: a rite makes sense insofar as the words become action, a prayer is such if it is heard and in some way comes to pass, and repetition is essential in the process of creation. Donda is an incessant and arduous prayer, it opens this record, it opens the anguish; the production serves choirs, sounds, words that succeed one another as if reading the drama of a son who loses his own mother, who somehow seeks to understand how he could have avoided it.

Jail is the real first track on the record, a destiny that cannot be changed, a sometimes mental prison, internal, that concretizes in a cry of liberation, an inspiring, driving track, a race toward a goal: Don’t try to jail my thoughts and think precincts / I can’t be controlled with programs and presets. The thought of a deity that alleviates the torment of living in this record is constant and is also a spokesperson for a way of understanding the relationship with the ultra-human of the hip hop and rapper world, a constant clash and encounter, a very parental relationship that is difficult to understand from the outside if one doesn’t come from African American culture. The record is indeed full of gospel, a sign of a faith Kanye has found again in recent years, and indeed there is no doubt that in the total blackness the thought of a present and caring God alleviates wounds: I know there’s an angel watchin over me. All times, I inhaled and breathed.

The album was preceded by an incredible event that allowed 42,000 fans to listen to it in advance in Atlanta, a highly anticipated listening party especially for the features present on the album: Jay-Z, Pusha-T, Travis Scott, Lil Baby, Baby Keem, Jermih, Pop Smoke. With tracks like Off the grid Kanye narrates life, then reenters the ultra-affected voices and 80s synths in Hurricane, feat. The Weeknd & Lil Baby, an epic opening, countless voids, tight rhythms, a hurricane of sounds and words: Finally, I’m free, finally, I’m free / As I go out to sea / I can walk on water / Won’t you shine your light? / Demons stuck on my shoulder / Father, hold me close, don’t let me drown / I know you won’t.

Tracklist