![]() ![]() ![]() Kayne West doesn’t just make music, he creates experiences. But the listening party wasn’t just for all of us in Mercedes-Benz, Apple Music broke viewing records when they livestreamed the event.Īs a casual Kayne fan, I had always imagined him as a sort of tortured, musical genius and certainly a generational defining artist. Jack, who had been to the first listening party, thought “Donda” would rank in the top three of Kayne’s albums. “For $100,000 a day,” I added as we stood to change trains. But I hadn’t been in a concert/stadium setting in 17 months so why not give it a go? “Did you hear that Kayne’s been living in the stadium to finish the album?” our friend Jack yelled over the screech of MARTA rails. Initially, I feared this would be another Raconteurs situation, though I’d listen to Ye rap “Scoop-diddy-whoop/Whoop-di-scoop-di-poop” a million times before I chose to hear White quaver and moan about how desirable he finds red-heads. As an Atlanta native, Mercedes-Benz Stadium– Kayne’s newest crib– was only a MARTA ride away, and we could stay with my parents for free. But as The Raconteurs berated Alabamians while playing in their state, I was unimpressed with their egotism and lack of self-awareness.Īlmost two years later, my boyfriend surprised me with tickets to the second “Donda” listening party. Their inflated sense of self-importance leaves me unphased. I’m not an elitist in the slightest: I’m an avid lover of reality TV, celebrities and popular culture. ![]() When White let me look at my phone, I was delighted to text my mom to tell her what a disgusting take that was. The speakers were unbearably loud inside the historic theater, and I couldn’t wait for the concert to be over–especially when the performance ended with White yell-lecturing the crowd about the “myriad of poor people in Alabama” and insinuated they deserved to be impoverished because the Red state handed its nine electoral votes to Donald Trump in the 2016 election. The band’s front man, Jack White, told NBC News he wanted guests to “enjoy looking up from your gadgets for a little while and experience music and our shared love of it IN PERSON.” Which, although a nice sentiment, struck me as arrogant. Upon entry, we were required to lock our iPhones in bags that would unlock once the concert finished. My boyfriend, Ethan walked with his arm around me– not to warm me from the chilly November wind, but to shield me from the hordes of men jostling us on the sidewalk. It was my boyfriend’s pick, guiltily I’ll admit I don’t love “The Racs,” but we trekked from Florence to Birmingham late in the fall semester. I didn’t know at the time, but they were my final concert pre-covid. The Raconteurs played at the Alabama Theater. Before I tell you about “Donda,” we need to travel back in time. ![]()
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