Kanye West's The Life of Pablo is one of the greatest albums of all time. This is an album that should be played at funerals and in places of worship. From the first track to the last one, we on a ultra light beam. This is a god dream.
"Now, if I fuck this model, and she just bleached her asshole, and I get bleach on my t-shirt, I'ma feel like an asshole." Ye drops the pop lyrics of the year right here on the second track, "Father Stretch My Hands," but he's not done: if you keep listening there's a story there: "I was high when I met her. We was down in TriBeCa." Ye does a little step-step maneuver with his vocal pitch to match the spelling of "TriBeCa". This whole thing is genus.
"I feel like me Taylor might still have sex. Why? I made that bitch famous." True? Maybe. What is true is that Yeezus has "loved us better than our kin did, from the very start" and as I'm typing this and hearing the screech of my mom's steering as she screams for me to to call an ambulance, I drop the phone and instead sing along full force with Kanye and Rihanna. "I just wanted you to know I've loved you better than your own kin did, from the very start. I don't blame you much for wanting to be free. I just wanted you to know."
Monday, March 7, 2016
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