Feeling Like A Saint. Feeling Like Pablo.

Last night, I was witness to the Saint Pablo Tour. As a Very Big Kanye Fan, I’ve been excited to see this tour since it was announced, and years ago wrote a reflection on the ‘YEEZUS’ tour which I called “church through the eyes of Kanye West.” His performances are never anything less than a representation of his own emotional state and artistic intent.

Saint Pablo was no different.

Here, the artistic vision is an interesting connection (and disconnection) from the audience, in the form of a moving stage. The concert began with Kanye West walking onto a platform in a mostly dark theater, which immediately rose into the air and over the heads of the crowd.

This was where Kanye remained for the entirety of the night, gliding through the crowd with people in every direction including directly below. The platform itself was often in the dark, and it made me consider the idea that Kanye was, in a way, hiding. The spotlights were more often on the crowd below than on him, and the giant screen depicting a close-up view of the artist was intentionally distorted, out of focus, and blurred with every angle.

This staging maneuver eliminated the idea of ‘good’ seats or ‘bad seats’, with every angle of the arena getting a similar view and a similar experience. However, this doesn’t mean that anyone got a clear view of West. Just as his last tour had Kanye hidden behind masks the entire night, this tour hid him behind shadows and fog. For the entirety of the first song, Kanye stood unmoving on the dark platform as it glided through a dark arena, and I wondered if Kanye desired for the music speak for itself, without him contributing anything more at all.

It’s worth noting that even though the moving platform meant that he felt close, he always felt distant as well. This was a stage meant to literally be above you, as if Kanye was in a place unreachable and completely disconnected from the audience below. We were part of Kanye West’s world, but he was not necessarily a part of ours.

I believe that succinctly describes what felt like a sincere duality for the night. To be like Pablo is to be selfish, narcissistic, and confident of ‘god-like’ skill. My wife noted that the entire concert was a profoundly self-centered experience, with Kanye stopping songs and restarting them again and again until it sounded just right or the crowd was in correct position. This was not a seamless, perfected experience meant to allow the audience to lose themselves in the concert. It was a stop-and-start experience meant to bring about perfection—for Kanye and Kanye alone.

I don’t mean that as a bad thing, however, because it reveals both the intentions behind his album, its title, and his view of art in general. At one point Kanye referenced a late, great favorite artist of mine, saying forlornly that “People were mean to Basquiat too.” Indeed they were, and as SAMO was taken from the lowest form of art to the highest, so too must West hope that this transformational experience will occur with the general public’s view of himself and his work.

Kanye took time to do what I can only describe as prophesy over the audience, empowering “artists, creatives, and independent makers” to continue forward regardless of what people said. “Hallelujah!”, shouted someone in the crowd behind me, and again West was able to turn a secular concert into a profoundly religious experience. The moment was triumphant and full of praise — not negative, as West is often categorized — and he ended the time with these words: “This is what victory looks like. Art takes time. Art takes time.”

Kanye West always seems to be in it for the long run, thinking of a future that is within his reach but not yet accessible, never considering the present and always considering what is to come. For a good portion of the night as the platform glided forward so too did Kanye as he held an extremely exaggerated posture leaning forward, a clear picture of his desire to be cutting edge, bleeding edge, ahead-of-the-moment, in all things.

There were moments of the show that felt more visually bombastic than anything else I’ve ever seen. As the song ‘Fade’ fully came alive, massive red laser-like lights show out of the ground, arching upwards, perfectly cutting through West’s body and allowing him to dance in the light. In this moment, perhaps more than any other, West felt like the center of the show’s universe, presenting another lovely duality as he sang the line “Ain’t nobody watching’, I just fade away.

As the night came to a close, the first notes of ‘Ultralight Beam’ came on, and a massive spotlight shone down from heaven into the middle of the arena. West’s platform moved towards it, and the artist stood motionless as he got closer and closer toward the light. The platform reached him, and without moving Kanye sat in the spotlight, pointed towards heaven, and came alive…

…and then he drifted past, becoming motionless once again. The spotlight remained, but Kanye was out of it, out of the glory of something bigger than himself, and once again the artist—alone, isolated, quiet, in the dark.

The platform pivoted towards the ground, Kanye dropped off, and walked away.

The night was over, and we were left in question as to what it’s like to be both like a saint and like Pablo—all at once.