Kanye West's Jesus Is King, (Not) Reviewed

Photo: Matt Cardy (Getty Images)

Ha! Got you, didn’t I? You clicked on this—hastily, lustily, thirsty as a motherfucker—to read a review of Kanye West’s Jesus Is King. But there will be no review here today, or tomorrow, or whichever day comes after tomorrow cause I’m really very sleep-deprived right now and I’m not quite sure what day it is.

But yeah. Nowhere in the next dozen or hundred or hundred(s) or however many words might follow this sentence will you read a review of Jesus Is King. What I look like to you, writing a review of a gotdamn gospel album on a Friday? (Today is Friday, right?) Where they do dat at? Not here, they don’t!

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Did I listen to it in my car 30 minutes ago? Yes, I did! And by “Did I listen to it in my car 30 minutes ago?” did I mean “Did I just have pancakes, bacon, and eggs for lunch because I missed breakfast but still wanted the breakfast experience?” Yes, I did! I did mean exactly that, and I did have pancakes.

So did I actually listen to the album? Maybe? Possibly? I’m honestly not sure, but I probably can’t be trusted. Do I intend to share any thoughts—critical, cultural, whimsical, pterodactyl—about the album I maybe, possibly listened to? Nope! Would you go to State Farm for a frittata? Of course not? To Trader Joe’s for a foot massage? Hmm. Maybe! So why would you ask me to do a thing I have no interest in doing? I thought we were friends.

Seriously, though—and I mean this from the bottom of my heart—I really hope that you’re not still reading this with the hope that I’m going to eventually review it here today, on a *checks notes* Friday. I really do. Of course, I do hope you’re still reading. (This is fun, right? This reader/writer exchange thing we have here; we should do it more often.) I just hope that whatever hope you had for a Jesus Is King review is now gone. Devoid. Extinct. Dead. Cause I’d be so sad for you if you were waiting for a thing that just ain’t ever going to come. I don’t know what I’d do with myself if you allowed that to happen to you.

I guess maybe we can talk about Kanye himself in the bit of time we have left, instead of his album. But nah! I’d rather not! I have a story about seeing him in JFK earlier this year, but I’m barely interested in expending the energy just to remember it, let alone actually tell it. If anyone else has any stories about Kanye that they also don’t want to share, this is the place for you! I have all the time and most of the bandwidth here for stories you just don’t give enough of a shit about to tell. So, please, don’t share! I won’t be listening!

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Let’s instead, for the next 50 words, talk about bookshelves. I had one installed in my office yesterday by California Closets, and it’s really nice I think!

THE MURPH!
Photo: Me
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It even has a Murphy Bed, which is a thing I didn’t know existed until the California Closet lady was like “We got them Murphy Beds too, tho.” Does anyone know why they’re called Murphy Beds? I guess I could just google it, but we’re friends now, so I trust you!

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About the author

Damon Young

Damon Young is the editor-in-chief of VSB and a columnist for GQ.com. His debut memoir in essays, What Doesn't Kill You Makes You Blacker (Ecco/HarperCollins), is available for preorder.