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189 words about Donda
I must go on the record
I recused myself from writing about Donda — too much going on, weird week, burnt out in general, burnt out on writing about Kanye specifically, exhausted not by Donda but by the need for public commentary on it: I was falling asleep to a basketball podcast the other night and instead of debating the Orlando Magic's defense, these dudes spent 20 minutes on Donda's sequencing and Kanye's growth as an artist; which of course was my thing, at least until I recused myself; but half-heartedly said I'd do something here, but then couldn't, because who at this point wants to read anything about Donda? What possible opinion do you not already, personally, have?; but still find myself, after everything, drawn to the record, repulsive as it tries to be, titanic as it often is, a synthesis of the stadium-size clarity of Graduation and MBDTF and the brutal minimalism of Yeezus and the everything-stays ethos of Pablo and the Catholic hellfire organs of the gospel period. On the record, I need to say this: If you made a record with "Junya" on it, you'd put it on there twice, too.