Call it Revenge of the Douchebag. Super producer Kanye West has always been known for two things - ground-breaking hip-hop and his rampant ego. They've become increasingly more significant over the last 10 years, now culminating in a near-perfect album that carefully indulges both without boiling over into a soiled mess.
It so easily could have. Every song here seems as though it's been stuffed to the gills with idea's. There's more guests than you could point an MPC-60 at and the samples get more far out and obscure at the disc goes on. The usual suspects appear, like Rihanna and Jay-Z, but it's his new pals, like Nicki Minaj, Pusha T and Rick Ross who show they are more than up to the challenge of overpowering the beats, and not vice versa.
Minaj kicks off the record with an odd british accent, flanked by a heavenly serenade of angelic Rihanna's. West drops in over a club-ready bounce, announcing his return whilst briefly acknowledging his Taylor Swift driven downfall. 'Gorgeous' is up next, with a re-energized Kanye rapping through a filter and comparing himself to Muhammed Ali and Malcolm X. You believe it.
'All of the lights' is the obvious next single, with a who-who's of music contributing, triumphant cavalcades of horns and the craziest drums ever committed to tape. It shouldn't work, but like everything else here, it does, because West balances the contributions and uses them when needed. No need to give Elton John a whole verse, he works great in two bars. The previously released 'Monster' is a straight-up well, monster of a track, with a career-making verse from Nicki Minaj, while 'So Appalled' finds Jay-Z, Pusha T and newcomer Cyhi Da Prince verbally slicing and dicing over a crazy hard Hip-Hop track.
'Runaway' is in there too, pushed out to seven minutes by a rambling, heavily filtered Kanye fade-out that accounts for half the song. As good as Runaway is, it's only a warm-up for 'Blame Game', the Aphex Twin sampling collage that is targeted at West's former lover Amber Rose. It too rides up over seven minutes, and every second is vital. The vitriolic verses where West again filters his voice, this time making it seems like he's warring within himself, John Legend providing the raspy relief and then a well-worth-the-wait skit featuring a well-known comedian that fleshes out a conversation that may or may not have happened. It's gripping.
Just for good measure, the Justin Vernon assisted dance blast of 'Lost in the World' finishes off the album, with veteran avant garde vocalist Gil Scott Heron providing a surprising, yet fitting final coda. West has crafted a vivid, sprawling, lavish album, one that feels complete and yet never settled. It's a fitting portrait of a douchebag, a douchebag that knows exactly how to turn tragedy into the ultimate triumph.
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