It’s been 24 hours since I witnessed the resurrection of Kanye West and I’m only now able to comprehend what the fuck I experienced. You wouldn’t expect anything except the unexpected from West (or Yeezus to his disciples) and his first show off his first solo tour in five years was quite the return to stage. Joined by the next king of the crop Kendrick Lamar, the show was similar to what, I presume, visiting a post-modern art gallery on some light hallucinogens while going through a religious experience would be like: it was out of this world. West is a mile ahead of anything in any game and he tends to be a force that yanks popular culture and rap forward into the next few yards, but his Seattle performance was more of an excellently awkward push to the sideways rather a blast to the beyond.
The Space Needle glowed and hovered like ET’s spaceship landing outside the Key Arena. The show was an easy two hours late to start due to one of the equipment trucks being stolen but that gave us enough time to guzzle down as much cheap vodka as possible (suck on that Key Arena vendors!) As we eased into the arena, many hundreds of Kanye fans sang along to his verse off of “Niggas in Paris” while it was being blasted by a local radio station booth and the sea of floating faces bobbed along preparing for Yeezus’ upcoming sermon.
My seat was perched on top of the highest section of the arena and this obviously proved to be a setback in terms of getting lost in the woods of the show, though, these two performers have enough power and non-killable vibes to make even seat six of row 15 in section 212 come alive. The stage set up was ridiculous and over the top, a few of Kanye’s personal favorite synonyms. There was a Matterhorn-esk mountain in the back with a gigantic screen stationed above the stage that would flash an assortment of accompanying images and in the middle of the arena was a peninsula stage that was shaped like a spearhead. Beyond making for a great set up, the stage would be a wonderful addition to Disneyland’s Matterhorn Bobsled ride.
Kendrick Lamar has been the cool boy Q for the past two years and his set was unfortunately too short. Due the late kick off, the I-Heart-Compton enthusiast ran through nine of the best tracks off of good kid, m.A.A.d. city including “Poetic Justice,” “Backseat Freestyle” and “Bitch, Don’t Kill my Vibe.” Staged behind him were three large screens that had short videos of everyday life in Compton esthetically projected onto the screens. First-person scenes of driving around in the back of his infamous mini van and random shots of common scenes in the world’s most lavished ghetto eloquently accompanied Lamar’s set. My biggest poke at his incredible recent record was the part where he bills the album as “a short film by Kendrick Lamar” even though there is no film. But this performance warranted that description and it made his already superb songs snap and rip even harder.
Lamar commanded the stage with his attire of mostly black with a charcoal flannel vest and as he moved about the spearhead setup, he paralleled the protagonist of the Assassin’s Creed video games with his perfectly placed hood blanketed over his head. His infamous “Yack-yack-yack” section off of “Fuckin’ Problems” (“M.A.A.d. City’s”) raised the arena’s atmosphere to new levels but his set lasted roughly 30 minutes before he exited stage right into the shadows.
It was pushing 11:30 p.m. when the lights went out and Yeezus’ presence grew stronger. 12 women dressed in cult-ish white gowns ascended upon the stage and a remixed version of the “Hold My Liquor” melody began to take form in the arena. You first heard his voice, sounding loud as it blared into the microphone sending the audio technicians to frantically equalize the sound levels but then, gracefully, he walked down the stage aisle. West appeared out of the dark sporting outrageous threads and a mask (the first of four style changes for the night) and he sizzled through Yeezus opener “On Sight.” The beginning was a perfect way to begin what would end up being a most incredibly bizarre concert experience.
In terms of songs selected, West played the entire Yeezus and the set list was spliced with classics (“Heard em Say,” “Through the Wire”), the guarantees (“Power,” All of the Lights,” “Stronger”) and the obscures (“Coldest Winter,” “Street Lights”). Before jumping into “Cold,” West played a snippet of Styx’s (Foreigner’s) “Cold as Ice” and somewhere out there GOB Bluth let out a questionable “are you crazy?” During the somewhat aptly titled “I am a God” when the infamous “hurry up with my damn croissants” is yelled, West put the mic out to the audience looking as if he’s been planning that lyric’s success since the moment he wrote it.
The show was elevated from being just a concert to a visceral experience by multiple zany and ludicrous features. The 12 women from the show’s beginning would sporadically reappear in different costumes and would dance exceptionally well with West. At random moments up on the Matterhorn, an unexplained and uncommented monster would appear and hobble around as West did his thing. WTF, Kanye? WTF.
But the most outlandish event of the night came when a white-cloak wearing, beard-faced Jesus appeared on stage and West and the “Son of God” exchanged a few words. West acted like a boy on Christmas around God and the Jesus actor must have been paid in pounds of gold because he’s about to be struck by lighting. This was the craziest moment of the show and I still feel like I walked in on my parents making out. The act was definitely shocking and it added artistic flare, but I personally thought it was too much of a gimmick and West can do stronger.
The first night of the Yeezus tour felt like a requiem for a Kanye. The music was great and the offbeat and religious atmosphere was, for the most part, charming. As the thousands of bewildered fans exited the arena into a fog of occupied cabs and chocolate milk refreshments at the local market, the mood was that of confusion, but also, content. We didn’t know what we just witnessed and one thing for sure; we didn’t know how to feel about it. Spoken comments after the show ranged from “Kanye! You are the fucking shit!” to “Kanye killed my vibe.”
Looking back to the performance a day later, I relate the overall experience to that strong beam of light that followed West as he danced, moved, lay idle, cried and jumped around the stage. The technician who worked the lighting would occasionally struggle to keep up with the frantic West and at moments he was left in the dark on his own stage. Sometimes not even the people working around West know what the hell he’s doing and can’t keep up with the Yeezus but, without a doubt, he is a baffling bash.