When he headlined Coachella in 2011, he brought synchronized ballerinas and winged models as part of a painstaking vision of pimping at the top of Mount Olympus. Meticulousness was once a Kanye West staple. But these moments of spiritual uplift were only brief stopgaps for what was otherwise a complete mess. There were moments of profound feeling conjured during the service, though they were mostly reserved for the performers themselves: a giddy Chance the Rapper danced to Kanye’s “Fade,” and Kid Cudi consoled Ye after a DMX prayer brought him to tears. Teyana Taylor, with the sun at her back, performed her song “Never Would Have Made It” as if it were a hymn. When they did get into a song, such as Kirk Franklin’s “Brighter Day,” they peeled it down by the layer until there was nothing left. Even the choir, under the direction of “American Idol” vocal arranger Jason White, seemed to be taking part in a rehearsal rather than a coordinated production, as an endless string of interludes and vocal warm-ups dragged on. The experience recalled the haphazard passing of the aux at the The Life of Pablo listening party at Madison Square Garden, only less irreverent and fun. (Chicago house anthem “Brighter Days” into gospel anthem “Brighter Day”? Genius!) Secular songs were reinterpreted as spirituals, segueing in and out of the Kanye catalog, most of which Ye seemed averse to performing, perhaps in fear of lyrics about bleached assholes tainting what was to be a sacred occasion.Įverything felt incomplete. The setlist was lazily stitched together, as if by a Tuesday night DJ.
When he did perform, he seemed unrehearsed, despite the fact that many of the songs have been featured at previous Sunday Services. When Kanye finally arrived, he mostly just stood around with Kid Cudi, Chance the Rapper, and Ty Dolla $ign. Michelle and Musiq Soulchild, the band began by playing instrumental renditions of songs by Stevie Wonder and the Gap Band for nearly 20 minutes.
Led by keyboardist Philip Cornish, whose credits include R&B stars K. Watching the set online was particularly distancing-for whatever reason, the whole thing was shot through a pinhole lens, as if the viewer had one eye pressed against the small end of a telescope. Yet those Coachella attendees and YouTube live streamers hoping to share in the holy spirit on Easter Sunday instead got something that was both light on Kanye and light on miracles. In light of his notoriously self-immolating 2018, these chill prayer parties have registered as atonements, or cleansings. The Coachella set capped off a run of weekly, invite-only Sunday Service performances that Kanye has been holding near his home in Calabasas, California since January. Sometimes, the choir seemed as perplexed as the audience often was. But at his Sunday Service performance at Coachella yesterday morning, which featured West atop a hillside surrounded by famous collaborators, a small band, and a large group of tunicked singers, no such potency was ever reached, no supernal energy tapped into.
From “Jesus Walks” to “Ultralight Beam,” he has used choirs to emancipate himself from sin as he’s wandered back and forth between God-like self-deification and being, as he once put it, “the guy who believes in God but still likes pussy.” More often than not, this strategy has worked. When so many heavenly voices lock into place-the harmonies, power, and precision, all surging forward in a rush-the effect can be transcendent. Kanye West knows this better than anyone. Nothing elevates a song quite like a gospel choir.