The previous event had been held in the same venue on 22 July. In the two weeks since, West has been fine-tuning not only the album, but its visuals. Some of the new aspects of the Donda 2.0 tracklist include feature spots from The Weeknd and Kid Cudi. Meanwhile, Balenciaga’s Demna Gvasalia has stepped in for the creative, directing the look and feel of the listening event and its stream.
What in Ye’s name are Demna and Kanye doing together? As it turns out, the two share a lot of aesthetic common ground – and, apparently, the same art director, Niklas Bildstein Zaar, who made the heaven and brimstone graphics that appeared in both the autumn/winter 2020 Balenciaga show and last night’s Donda event. Both artists specialise in creating work that finds beauty in darkness. Gvasalia’s visions of hell and high water, and his interest in artificial intelligence and deep fakes, are premonitions of moments that seem just about to happen. His garments are uncannily redone versions of “normal” things like tracksuits, dad jeans, and puffer jackets rendered to the most luxurious degree. Even his debut couture show, the most trumpeted collection of 2021 thus far, had an eerie air about it, with the restored Balenciaga salons made intentionally dingy, with grease on the light switches and yellowed hems on the curtains. With Yeezy, West has a similar mission, making “essential” items like leggings, bombers, and tees into purposeful garments with an unusual vibe, an idea he’s extending with his ongoing partnership with The Gap. And depending on what rumours you believe, they’ve even worked together in the past, either on Yeezy Season 1 or Yeezy Season 3.
Inside the Mercedez-Benz stadium, guests like Migos and Rick Ross took in an industrial set with a circular stage. On it was a recreation of West’s room at the arena: mattress, blanket, coat, shoes, stereo, candle. Spotlights and floodlights surrounded the stage while the spidercam snuck through the air; a ring of clouds or sunbursts or flames lit up the stadium’s oculus. There was little else in the mix; the space’s dirty floors and guard rails were all exposed.
West’s performance mimicked what you would have seen on the stream earlier: dressing, praying, dancing, walking. A band of street-cast performers dressed in their own black clothing bounded out to circle the stage, walking and swaying, followed later on by barefoot dancers in mud-coloured nylon tracksuits, who flung themselves to the ground in a fit of heavenly possession and trudged towards the stage. (One guy in neon orange also made a run for it from the audience, before being promptly taken down by security.) It was all quite, dare I say it, humble? Well, humbler.
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