Kanye West has released his least-Kanye album yet. On Jesus is King, there are no strippers, only psalms. Kanye’s approach to his ninth solo record is centered around piety, and any hints of his past egotism are scarce. He takes some pages from his apprentice Chance the Rapper’s 2016 mixtape Coloring Book, bridging the gap between hip-hop and gospel. Alongside features from Ty Dolla $ign and Pusha T, some famous gospel singers come in to handle refrains evoking that Sunday service vision. It works… until the electronica kicks in.
This far ahead in his discography, he realizes he needs to take a breath of fresh air with each release. Yeezus banked on abrasive hyper-production, The Life of Pablo mixed in some gospel aesthetic, and Jesus is King is at best a half-baked B-side of the latter. While it presents itself as a gospel album, it’s full of half-measures and unsure of what exactly it wants to sound like. The clash of occasional autotune paired with the pious vocals present Kanye’s diocese as that church that’s struggling to be hip to wrangle in a younger demographic. That’s also why there isn’t any form of foulmouth, understandable considering this is the story of an outspoken artist turning himself into a disciple.
Hearing Kanye praise God and actually not be referring to himself for a change sounds like a fresh change of pace, but it’s clear the vacancy of West’s familiar arrogance leaves a huge gap. He went from being the life of the party to being that dad who’s in bed by 8 PM. The old Kanye’s cockiness has been met with occasional vulnerability before, and he tries that with “Hands On,” a mea culpa that wishes it could carry the confessional weight of past classics like “Runaway.” He’s aware that his models-and-raves lifestyle doesn’t exactly fit the bill of a so-called “good Christian,” and the track prepares itself to be an inspirational call of him devoting his life to God. It could work, but Kanye barely touches any of the tabloids with his name on it from the past year. When he interrupted Taylor Swift in a notorious VMA moment, we got My Beautiful Dark Twisted Fantasy as an apology letter. Recent bizarre TMZ interviews and eyebrow-raising Instagram posts barely get put under the microscope on Jesus is King, disappointing from a musician we’ve witnessed spin his past controversies into great records.
Part of the appeal of his over-the-top ego was silly but astute one-liners. When he’s not quoting the Bible, he’s dabbling into some shallow hooks like the lazy chorus “Closed on Sunday, you’re my Chick-fil-A.” 2009’s 808s & Heartbreak was a turnoff to some for Ye abandoning his vulgar persona, though at least that LP had some flashy synth mixes to keep it rolling. The soundboard credits here go to artists further past their prime than West is becoming, like Timbaland and Labrinth. Even the lesser-appreciated Kanye LPs banked on a few club hits. They certainly weren’t aiming to score your midnight rager this time, except it’s not even worthy enough for a somewhat fancy post-Mass brunch.
It’s an album missing a lot, and its 27-minute runtime comes off as a rushed and incomplete piece. Even numerous delays couldn’t fix the issues West runs into. It’s not that he couldn’t succeed in this transition towards the light, but his journey doesn’t feel earned by the LP’s conclusion. Upon alienating himself from some of his base lately, reconciliation won’t be found on Jesus is King.
