Review Summary: An epic odyssey.
Donda. Donda. Donda. An epic word. We all know Kanye, or perhaps instead Kanye knows us. Born in the hood in Atlanta, Kanye was always a sensitive man of contemplation, often being teased by local ruffians. Choosing to eschew so-called "gangsta" subculture in favor of polo shirts and a high-pitched voice, he melded man and woman into one giant groove machine - no other black artist since Prince had captured the androgynous yin and yang so well, a prophetic notion for our times. On top of this, Kanye's wordplay rivaled epic rappers like Eminem and Chamillionaire at their finest. The man was a recipe for musical genius and he damn sure knew it.
Some say Kanye's conversion to Christianity was a symptom of mental illness, but let these postmodern reductionists who infest our cyberspace cast the first stone if they are without sin. If the rock is still in your hand, read on.
Donda, at its core, is an ode to Christian faith, a tribute to the epic book known as The Bible. When one has recorded masterpieces like
The College Dropout and
Life of Pablo, the only epic left to tackle is the one that started it all. The black album cover is no Metallica homage, but instead a vision of purity, a celebration of giving up one's ego and giving in to Jesus (in this case, Kanye himself). Belief in one's self is every bit as irrational, but today we belittle those who dare to grasp for more than what Tyson and Dawkins tell us we should accept. Kanye cares not about barriers. Although I am not a supporter of Donnie "Tinyhands" Drumpf, I applauded Kanye and felt it was quite epic when he stuck it to Hollywood and supported Trump. It was a work of performance art and the public was duped, like when you crap your pants farting - horror ensues, norms are questioned, and the smell is offensive. I've been watching this man troll the general public since 2004. Even Mike Myers has been a victim, the man who can play every character in a movie and have nobody even realize! To say I've been enthralled with Kanye since the beginning is an understatement. Many point to 4chan and deplorable "fake news" as the source of Kanye's conversion to a philosophy of faith and self-reliance, but here's the scoop: those websites of chaos would not be possible today had Kanye not trolled the world first. He is the black Andy Kaufman, except there's a soul to his madness, a shining light.
Dando exemplifies these traits with its epic proportions.
Unlike angrier albums like Eminem's
Kamikaze, Kanye has no machismo at play here. In this way, he is even more pure than your local preacher. He's not going to molest your kids or anything like that. He's here to tell you about faith. Songs like "Praise God," "Jonah," and "Jail Part 2," show a deep metaphorical understanding of faith, and the epic music reflects this. This album has chill beats, party beats, chill vibes, epic grooves, and more. The feeling one might get after praying at a sacred temple is emulated here. Much like epic religious texts need multiple readings to fully unravel their wisdoms, this album requires multiple listens. Critics rush to judgment to meet deadlines, and they miss the actual meaning of art. Music isn't a disposable commodity, people - it's the oldest method of communication we have, before birds or airplanes or the internet. Kanye is much like the caveman who rapped at the first drum circle, but he also plays the robotic jukebox - another example of the yin and yang. While Kanye likely does not know the word "juxtaposition," he
feels it, and if you don't understand that, you'll never understand Kanye's faith, or anybody else's for that matter. Not everyone can live in the past, and sometimes one must take risks to ascend to the next plane. If that means sometimes looking "crazy," then maybe we all need to be a bit more crazy.
