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designed with an incredible number of collaborators, is a sloppy, awkward and amateurish work despite the impeccable fusion of electronics and vocals, the impeccable collages, the impeccable production. But sound quality is a technological, not an artistic, fact. Daft Punk are responsible for the robotic beat of On Sight and the monster riff of Black Skinhead (one of the catchiest "songs"): cool but nothing we haven't heard before. There are a few moments of pathos: the reggae-like cry of I am a God in a desolate post-industrial soundscape, the gloomy crescendo of the first half of Hold My Liquor (before the misguided synth orgy), the martial trombone fanfares of Blood on the Leaves, and... i struggled to find at least one more. But there are also embarrassingly trivial moments of both mashup and sociopolitical analysis (New Slaves, I'm in It, Blood on the Leaves, and Bound 2, which is simply a lame tribute to soul music) and there is certainly an unusual dose of filler (a four-song EP would have been more appropriate for what West had to say in this album). As a narrative experience, these stories may try something new but it's more a case of a populist bard desperately trying to find something new to say to his followers than a serious discussion on gender and race. As an aural experience, this album feels terribly old, like most granpas when they try to speak the language of their high-school nephews. Maybe this album was only meant as a self-mocking joke?
4/10
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