Spectreview: Kanye West – Jesus is King

-MAROON-

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Oh Lord, here we go.

You want a parable? In 2010, Kanye West declared himself an equal with Michael Jackson, then spent every second up until the last few breaths of 2019 eerily replicating his idol’s spiraling descent into madness. I’d go into more detail, but journalists with far more clout (and better writing skills) have extensively chronicled West’s decade-long trajectory as rap’s Heir Apparent to maniacal fashion designer to right-wing champion to hollow, tautological famous person. It’s difficult, shaking the inclination to lend some indoctrinated sense of empathy to this clearly scattered soul, but the guy is in his forties now. At some point, as an adult with at least three children, West has got to take responsibility for the empty contrarianism and blatant laziness that’s plagued his music (and his antics) since 2015’s uneven, occasionally brilliant The Life of Pablo.

God willing, he might get there one day, but Jesus Is King, West’s ninth album and arguable career low point (at least on par with 2018’s equally rushed, equally atrocious ye), continues to see the hip-hop artist blindly leading the blind through underbaked, ultimately forgettable gospel rap. Given how short the average attention span is now, West’s recent instinct to construct shorter-length albums is actually right on the money, even if it can’t help but betray the obscene level of hype bewilderingly still attached to each and every one of his releases. The album runs at a breezy half an hour, which may have worked in the album’s favor were the music contained in it notable in any significant fashion. Every track, from the inoffensively-sugary opening loop of “Every Hour” to the staid arpeggios of “On God”, whooshes through the ears. It’s not like West hasn’t done gospel rap in stellar fashion before; Pablo’s killer opening track, “Ultralight Beam,” felt weighty with purpose, a verifiable bombshell from a producer whose signature innovation was chipmunk soul. This is an entire album of the same brand of gospel-focused rap, and not a single one of these tracks even comes close to “Beam” in ambition, in solemnity, even in freewheeling spirit.

Its best moments are its gospel samples, which at least signal some form of life: “Water” operates at baseline level of pleasantness thanks to a serviceable vocal line from Ant Clemons, while “Closed On Sunday” boasts a typically inscrutable Tweet of a hook that might take off. Otherwise, it’s utterly confounding how sour the record becomes as it stumbles towards the finish line. On 700 Club backing track “God Is” we bear witness to a terribly flat, laryngitically throaty Kanye verse, though one suspects not even a mammoth’s dose of Theraflu would’ve saved it. “Hands On” is sunk by a tired, lazy repetitive verse, the lyrical pit that West seems to have fallen into ever since, seemingly, “I’m In It”. “Use This Gospel” borders on offensively bad; in its single plinked eighth notes and vocoder hook it feels like a shameless, unearned callback to My Beautiful Dark Twisted Fantasy centerpiece “Runaway”, and when Kenny G inexplicably takes the stage to lay down a soprano sax solo worthy of the John Carver Inn’s gift shop, you might straight up burst out laughing. If your attention has drifted away by then, “Jesus Is Lord’s” gassy buildup, followed by its hilariously abrupt end, will be sure to bring you back to reality -at least long enough to realize that, yes, West did indeed spend less mental energy on this record than you did on your last college essay.

Even considering the half-assed quality of its compositions, by far the record’s most egregious disappointment is its production, which used to be West’s unfaltering bedrock of clear musical talent. Even since 2013’s classically confrontational Yeezus, faint hints of suspicion started to surface that West’s industriousness was starting to take a tumble, and as the decade passed those suspicions only grew stronger in the midst of delayed releases and on-the-fly mix changes. Jesus Is King, like last year’s ye, feels tossed-off, but not in an endearing way. The mix is loud but muddled, bassy but not deep, with an uncharacteristic bluntness that washes over the ears. Where West would take small moments and inspiredly spin them into magic, there’s not much here but the baseline of a job completed. But even that light compliment’s a stretch, as there are plenty of spots here that betray West’s once-airtight sense of quality control. “Selah’s” last third feels way too heavily panned to the left speaker; “Follow God’s” side-chained bass hits are most definitely clipping; “Everything We Need’s” choruses feels mistakenly automated, weirdly growing way louder than anything else in the track, among other production transgressions. Granted, it’s not outright busted, but on the whole it’s absolutely not up to the stratospheric standards on which West built his artistic credence.

And that’s really the kicker, when it comes down to it. In the absolute best light, Jesus is King might just be the record that proves Kanye’s truly changed, that for once he’ll stick to his tall words and praise the word of God for the rest of his career. It might even be a grand unifier, pulling together the faithful and the fanatic together in ways that no artist can seem to do in this new era. But amid all the holy name-drops and urges to believe, it’s conceivable, even likely, that Jesus Is King isn’t actually about Jesus, but about Kanye. After all, it’s always been about Kanye. Weighing all of his recent actions and behaviors and tossed statements, even an entire album purportedly dedicated to Christian worship can’t erase the notion that West is making this blasphemous false equivalence to himself, guised as humble offerings of praise (It wouldn’t be the first time.) And at worst, Kanye might have found a strategy taken directly from Trump himself: appeal to the kinds of people that on principle won’t reject him for his music or his incendiary actions, forging an impenetrable cult of personality anchored of a group that’s been whittled down to his most faithful (i.e least questioning) devotees.

If this album ultimately becomes the most polarizing release of his career, it’s because its subjective success rests on this question: do you believe in the veracity of Kanye’s intentions?

Well, if you are of the worshipping variety, or a Kanye superfan, there’s not much anyone can say to change your opinion, and that’s perfectly okay. We’re all free to enjoy the music we like, and taste if nothing if not a luxury. But at least consider this: if this release did not bear the Kanye West brand, how would you feel about it? Maybe it’s been this way for longer than people want to admit, but compared to today’s verifiable hurricane of ambitious, thoughtful hip-hop, Kanye West is no longer doing anything, musically or behaviorally, that demands the benefit of our doubt. Every release since Yeezus finds him making bad-faith creative decisions that hold up less to scrutiny than confirmation bias, and his current reputation as an artist rests not on universal acclaim, but on the tenuous nature of confidence and volume. The fact that critics are currently dogpiling on him may have more to do with his flagrant political stances (along with contemporary trends in music journalism) than his musical output, but even if the story we’re not the main focus, nothing’s happening on this album that warrants the attention.

Is it music as product, or as extended trailer? Possibly. It’s been said before: West’s music has long been the footnote to his reputation. Perhaps he’s hoping that happens once again with this new release; perhaps his line of thinking would be justified. But if at his peak he once brazenly proclaimed himself a god, the eucharistic shrug of Jesus Is King paints him instead like Lucifer, perilously fallen from grace.

Not recommended for anyone but diehard Christians (and for Yeezy season 25, which will probably consist of just beige scrunchies).