But what’s often forgotten about TLOP is that it was the first record that Kanye could update in real time, thanks to it debuting in a world that favored streaming over physical albums. It took four more days to get the album-a time frame that felt interminable then but seems laughably quaint in retrospect. When West unveiled his Yeezy Season 3 collection at Madison Square Garden that February, he shrewdly used his seventh studio album as leverage to market clothing that, outside of the sneakers, his average fan neither wanted nor could afford. Each pre-album extravaganza is merely one part of a growing portfolio meant to keep his celebrity pyre burning. Since 2016’s The Life of Pablo, Kanye rollouts have calcified into a golem of excess, cross-brand synergy, and endless tinkering. It remains to be seen whether Donda-which may arrive as soon as midnight ET on Friday, though history shows that’s far from a sure thing-has any hope of justifying the month-long odyssey of West focus-testing it into oblivion. If the past few Kanye album cycles have taught us anything, it’s that the music can no longer stand on its own. As his voice grows louder, the appeal of Donda dwindles. Kanye stunts have now become the main attraction in a circus of his own making. If reports are to be believed Kanye is also building a replica of his childhood home within Soldier Field, while legally changing his name to “Ye.” In the past 39 days, instead of receiving Kanye’s 10th studio album, we’ve been subjected to hearing one unfinished project and a more polished (if slightly overproduced) follow-up, a livestream of Kanye reenacting scenes from the 2005 hit show Prison Break, master publicist Justin Laboy #respectfully stoking the chaos by announcing Watch the Throne 2, and the reignition of a Drake-West–Pusha T beef that’s as wanted as the next COVID variant. Considering West reportedly made $7 million in merch sales off the first show-and with his streams skyrocketing even in the absence of new music-it wouldn’t be surprising if it were the latter. When news broke last week that West was moving his stadium high jinks to Chicago on Thursday night for his third listening event for his (allegedly) forthcoming album Donda, the whole enterprise started to feel like an elaborate piece of performance art or a giant money-laundering scheme. If the venom doesn’t get you, the cool black liquid filling your lungs will. In late July, standing in the middle of the Mercedes-Benz Stadium with a stocking cap over his head, Kanye was about to do something he hadn’t accomplished since 2004: He was going to let the music-no matter how undercooked-speak for itself.īut being a Kanye fan is akin to being a frog carrying a scorpion across the deepest body of water. Like a roving phantom, he popped up at NBA Finals games, private listening parties, and football stadiums, refusing to say a word. The disappearance of the MAGA hats, the Kardashian clan, and the traveling church group gave West’s most ardent detractors few threads to grasp, but Kanye’s uncharacteristic silence proved to be the most useful rebrand of all. This happened by the Chicago artist simply doing less, one of the most antithetical moves of his entire career. Then this summer-whether intentionally or through happenstance-Kanye had become more likable than he’d been in five years. For someone to rise from the ashes, something needs to burn, and while the public’s respect for him over the past five years was highly combustible, West’s career (and bank account) were flame-retardant. Like most billionaires, he didn’t need one. Kanye was on the precipice of a comeback.
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