New York Magazine - USA (2019-11-11)

(Antfer) #1

108 newyork| november11–24, 2019


trap tunes, and holy chipmunk-soul work-
outs that call back to College Dropout, an
album that sampled the old spiritual “I
Want Jesus to Walk With Me.” In that sense,
Jesus Is King is the man coming full circle.
People who have come to Kanye’s music
in the past to bask in honesty, affluence,
and arrogance won’t find as much of that
among the liturgical verses and choruses
here. When the old Kanye does show face,
it’s to grouse about criticism from inside the
church or else to flex on people who don’t
support the new direction. These moments
bear out the newness of the enterprise.
Gospel is a music of the overwhelmed, the
weary. The standards of the form—“Rough
Side of the Mountain,” “Mary Don’t You
Weep,” “Why We Sing” —are songs of black
perseverance. This energy comes and goes
on Jesus Is King. West opens “On God”
with encouragement for single mothers
and incarcerated men but descends into
listing off personal achievements.
The writing here is about on par with
what West achieved last year with Ye, as
far as the ratio of quality to cringe appar-
ent in the lyrics. The hook to “Closed on
Sunday”—“You’re my Chick-fil-A” — gives
a serious message about the downside to
fame an undeserved silliness. When Kanye
avoids his worst impulses, these songsget
compelling. “Use This Gospel” achievesit
by slotting him in between verses fromthe
reunited Clipse, whose story of narrowly
missing Fed time is the kind of miraculous
testimony this album could use more of.
“Hands On” utilizes hip-hop as a bully pul-
pit to deliver a word about American injus-
tice. More cuts like these might’ve helped
reconnect the artist with the radicalism
of his music before Yeezus, Pablo, and Ye,
Kanye’s “Me” trilogy.
Jesus Is King’s secret weapon is one
Kanye has employed before in songs like
“T wo Words” and “Ultralight Beam.” He
can wield a chorus of voices like a sword
of fire. “Every Hour” opens the album in
the middle of a brilliant choral exercise by
West’s Sunday Service Choir. They lift the
invocation “Selah” into the stratosphere
on a booming “Hallelujah” chorus. “Every-
thing We Need” adds Ty Dolla $ign, who
delivers a hair-raisingly good lyric abouta
passing night storm, bouncing silky har-
monies off himself. “Water” sends voices
careening around the mix like a school of
fish. Kanye, who excels by slotting friends
with varied skill sets into teams greater
than the sum of their parts, is uplifted by
singers hitting the notes he can’t.
Gospel is communicative music. Testi-
mony is shared. Audience and performer
have a rapport; they stew and stir each
other till the room bubbles over. But Kanye
approaches spirituality the way he does


his sneakers and clothing lines,running
the risk of the streetwear-ificationofthe
faith. The line in “On God” wherehetries
to sanctify a reference to his ownmerch
— “Off the 350s, He supplied” —ain’t,as
Twitter folk say, it.
At 11 songs in 27 minutes, JesusIsKing
feels even choppier than Ye , thoughit
houses better beats and less embarrass-
ing lyrics. But the (orange) elephantinthe
room and the gaping hole in thelogicani-
mating this project deserve mention.Like
many affluent Evangelicals, Kanyefailsto
see the glaring flaw in casting hislotwith
the American president, separatoroffami-
lies and divider of peoples. A message of

love is tainted by silence in the face of real
cruelty. West positions himself as an advo-
cate for prison reform while supporting a
regime that’s caging immigrants at the bor-
der. The music of Jesus Is King is pretty, and
the message is mostly positive. But unless
this organization distinguishes itself from
the divisive ideologies of political figures
angling to jack into the cultural cachet of
Kanye West and his star-studded expanse
of collaborators, it runs the risk of playing
Hillsong to hip-hop. Does Kanye fix up
and change course, or does he tarry awhile,
bleeding public interest until he sorts out
the balance? Three years into his red-hat
era, there’s no end on the horizon. ■

PHOTOGRAPH: MERRICK MORTON TM AND © 2019 TWENTIETH CENTURY FOX FILM CORPORATION


Christian Bale

infordv ferrari,thedirectorJamesMangolddoesn’t hov-
erovertheracecarsthatrocketalongat 210,220, 230 miles
perhourandscorcharoundcurves.Overheadshotswouldn’t suithis
objective,whichis toputyouinsideorrightalongsidethevehiclesso
youcan’t—fora nanosecond—forgetthedrivers’chancesofendingup
a smokingmashoftinandinnardsontheblacktop.There’s nodefense
againstMangold’shyperkineticstyle,butfortunatelytheredoesn’t need
tobe.Hedoesn’t misusehishead-rattlingtechniques;he’s anhonorable
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fashionedvirtuosity.
Basedona weirdlytruestory set inthe1960s,thefilmcentersontwo
charismaticpurists,thelegendaryex-racerCarrollShelby(MattDamon)
andtherowdy,insolentBritmechanicKenMiles(ChristianBale),whois
a prodigy behind the wheel and under the hood. After being rebuffed and
insulted following an attempt to purchase the Italian company Ferrari to
add hipster cred to his family-car image, Henry Ford II (Tracy Letts) vows

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Ford v Ferrari plunges us headlong

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