my thoughts on Donda

I have counted the less busy half of my summer through Kanye's Donda listening parties. Since the first event on July 22nd, watching in concern as a clearly upset Ye wandered aimlessly around an empty field playing unfinished concepts of songs, my weekends have been spent wondering whether his long-anticipated tenth album would release. And finally, it has, with Universal dropping the lengthy 100+ minute affair on Sunday morning without Kanye's permission. 

But for all the hype and crazy speculation that surrounded the adventure of Donda's drawn-out release, from the shock of hearing a heavenly Young Thug feature or the drama of Kanye levitating out of the stage, repeated listens to the album have failed to inspire me in the way that Kanye's other work does. While Donda often produces beautiful, classic Kanye instrumentals, energized verses, and harmonic bliss, it is a mess as an album. Apart from a few standouts, Donda feels empty: a shell of the bravado, the passion, the care, and the cleverness Kanye West is supposed to represent. 

Kanye's best music sounds like an orchestra: even his most simple records shimmer with the support of harmonies or subtle drum patterns that act like waves keeping a boat aesthetically rocking above water. But many songs on Donda, regardless of whether the aesthetic is purposeful at this point, are skeletal and rely too much on small instrumental moments or electrifying features from guests to try and keep themselves compelling. From the annoying thrum of "God Breathed" reaching a conclusion only by repeating itself until it becomes a lifeless drone to the lonely organ backed by a kindergartener's drum set on "Keep My Spirit Alive" that makes even Westside Gunn's adlibs ring hollow, Donda sounds like it is sinking into the water. 

That said, almost every feature on Donda is refreshing. For example, Vory's melodies add gravitas to even the most sparse instrumentals, and Fivio Foreign's blitz of gospel raps over a drill beat on "Off the Grid" is rousing, filled with a hunger that hasn't been present in Kanye's rapping since maybe "Saint Pablo." But features are what leave a bitter taste in my mouth at the end, making me question why I tried so desperately to garner a deeper message about family and religion in the album when that message could be reversed in seconds. "Jail pt 2" or the people who should be jailed edition as I like to call it, features Marilyn Manson, a figure antithetical to Christianity and to women who this album is dedicated to, as well as a verse from DaBaby whining about facing consequences for open homophobia (the pervasiveness of which Kanye had spoken out against sixteen years ago). Even as a Kanye fan, defending him as a person and artist through tireless rehashing of the MAGA, "slavery was a choice," and Taylor Swift controversies from everyone who finds out I love this man's music, this unnecessary provocation is more anger-inducing than interesting. 

The all-black lack of an album cover on Donda makes sense because most of its songs are only unified by their incompleteness: the mainly generic atmospheric church organ sounds that Kanye has just copy-pasted onto slightly different piano loops. But the underlying messaging and the emotional drive behind a Kanye album that defines his career better than the sounds he creates are almost completely missing. I love Kanye because he doesn't hold anything back: even through his bravado, he is willing to be vulnerable. On past albums, he's laid his insecurities bare, admitted his mistakes, and even questioned the structures of society that he sees controlling him. But on Donda, an album ostensibly about one of the most important people in his life, there is a lack of the heart that carried through even his most depressing music. 

Donda does not really feel like an album about Kanye's mother: listening to "Hey Mama" 22 times in a row would likely give me more insight into Donda West as this whole album did. Most of the interludes featuring spoken word analyses of family and unconditional love from Donda herself were completely cut, a baffling choice given that length was clearly not a concern. And even at its most emotional, the spotlight is not trained on Kanye's relationship with his mother. The verse on "Jesus Lord" where Kanye first raps about appreciating his mother's sacrifices is immediately followed by an impressive but completely unrelated Jay Electronica verse—and for all the pomp and circumstance that surrounded Kanye's penultimate party trick when setting himself on fire for the sparkling piano of "Come to Life," the song's lyrics have nothing to do with his mother. 

In fact, the majority of the album's lyrics are focused on Kanye's greatness, his freedom of expression amidst haters, and his bravery for spreading a new gospel—all topics that Kanye has already covered too often in the past. Even the gospel that he preaches seems superficial and repetitive, centering around the idea that belief in God, rather than personal accountability, will magically cleanse all past transgressions. It's just another album of Kanye reminding us we are living in his world—a place where he can do whatever he wants and have fans eat it up. 

That fact warrants self-reflection for everyone following celebrity personalities, because Kanye's relentless focus on himself likely also reflects the inherent narcissism of anybody in a parasocial relationship. Constantly expecting a great product from an artist who has their own life outside of their career implies that you have a special right to accessing something that is theirs to create and theirs to give. How is the fan who feels this way not just as guilty as the artist who doesn't release or releases something unfinished? Maybe at this point in Kanye's career, these insane expectations are what he seeks freedom from—which is why he just let the corporates at Universal release a Frankenstein-like creation that vaguely conjures the joy of his best work into the public's open arms. Maybe the disappointment isn't that Kanye didn't produce something great this weekend. It's that I was watching so closely that I was fooled into thinking that it was.