The Saint Pablo Tour: Unity, Spirit, Rebirth

Kanye loses countless Old Kanye fans and further alienates his detractors once he begins stroking his over-inflated ego once again.

What most people fail to realize is the irony of such a line, which is then followed up with, “Hurry up with my damn croissants!” Think about that for a second: What kind of god can’t get...croissants? Or a menage? Or their Porsche out the damn garage? The supreme over-self-confidence Kanye West has come to be known for is also the tragic flaw of his Yeezus character. Above all adjectives Kanye has been branded with, I would argue that “self-aware” best describes him. Just as we relish in the self-destruction of Charles Foster Kane or Daniel Plainview or Regina George, the character on Yeezus is doomed to a life of loneliness and heartache without change. To me, the tour embodies that character, who very much would compare his meteoric rise to fame to climbing a mountain that rests above his adoring fans. If you really know Kanye West and follow the grand narrative he has built with his albums, you know he is very much aware that he is not, in fact, a god, or the biggest rock star on the planet, or even the voice of a generation But the point isn’t to believe you are any of those things—the point is to say it.

This, finally, brings us to the Saint Pablo tour. The Yeezus tour’s aesthetic very much matches the album, with Kanye elevating himself to god status and positioning himself atop a mountain. It’s high-concept, high-art, filled with crazy imagery and ideas. I’d say the Saint Pablo tour, in turn, pretty perfectly captures his latest album, The Life of Pablo. With everything that occurred surrounding the release of the album—including his unforgettable Twitter storm, the constant updates fans were getting about tracklists, and unveiling the album for his fans with a live Yeezy Season 3 show at Madison Square Garden—it was a much more communal release that Kanye wanted to include the fans in. So instead of a mountain Kanye climbs by himself, the Saint Pablo tour is now a floating stage that hovers over the audience and moves about the arena, making sure, as he said in interviews, there are “no bad seats in the house.”

I, personally, was overwhelmed by all of this—the hazy aesthetic of the giant screens, the lasers that engulfed Kanye as he spread his arms like he was flying in some sort of Tron-verse, the feeling that Kanye was truly taking me on an ultralight beam along with him. Because, as mentioned with the Yeezus tour, the Saint Pablo tour was crafted for the fans who truly understand his art and what he’s trying to accomplish with his latest album. Ultimately, more than anything, the entire release strategy of The Life of Pablo and the aura of the tour is about unity—Kanye very much wants his fans to be participants in the show (at one point, he has the crowd sing nearly the entirety of Heartless on its own) as opposed to spectators.

And from that unity and the astounding power that comes from thousands of fans singing and dancing and celebrating a once-in-a-lifetime artist, we experience the self-confidence, the belief, the spirit Kanye wants us to achieve. Kanye calls himself the greatest artist of all time because he wants to show that, within ourselves, we can too find that spirit and drive that pushes the boundaries of humdrum and ordinary. As the killer of gangster rap himself, West knows we’re all capable of shattering norms and expectations to create something beautiful and transcendent. When on the opening moments of The Life of Pablo, Kanye speaks of that “ultralight beam” and a “god dream,” he’s not asking everyone to join his beam—he’s telling everyone to believe in themselves so much that they form their very own beam of light they can ride to wherever it they see fit. Don’t follow Kanye up Mount Yeezus—create your own “god dream.”

And through that unity and spirit comes rebirth. As the show nears its end, a sole beam of light hits the center of Kanye’s floating stage. He seems hesitant—scared, even, to approach it. In a world where refusing to be humble and singing your own praises makes you more unlikable than Chris Brown, Donald Trump, and Azealia Banks combined, it’s an intimidating task to abandon the Old Kanye and take the road less traveled. When you reach for greatness and take a giant leap, sometimes you miss, you falter, you alienate, you hurt yourself.

Kanye, though, isn’t one to shy away from a challenge, especially with an entire arena filled with fans watching. He walks into that light as the stage floats to the end of the arena and the end of the show, showing that the ultralight beam isn’t death—it’s a second chance to make something of yourself. opening moments of The Life of Pablo, Kanye speaks of that “ultralight beam” and a “god dream,” he’s not asking everyone to join his beam—he’s telling everyone to believe in themselves so much that they form their very own beam of light they can ride to wherever it they see fit. Don’t follow Kanye up Mount Yeezus—create your own “god dream.”

And through that unity and spirit comes rebirth. As the show nears its end, a sole beam of light hits the center of Kanye’s floating stage. He seems hesitant—scared, even, to approach it. In a world where refusing to be humble and singing your own praises makes you more unlikable than Chris Brown, Donald Trump, and Azealia Banks combined, it’s an intimidating task to abandon the Old Kanye and take the road less traveled. When you reach for greatness and take a giant leap, sometimes you miss, you falter, you alienate, you hurt yourself. But Kanye isn’t one to shy away from a challenge, especially with an entire arena filled with fans watching. He walks into that light as the stage floats to the end of the arena and the end of the show, showing that the ultralight beam isn’t death—it’s a second chance to make something of yourself.