After much fanfare and speculation, American musicians Ye and Ty Dolla $ign have confirmed the existence of their Vultures series with the drop of the first installment. Under their superduo name “¥$”, the rapper-singer yin and yang’s album is their debut collaborative effort, although they themselves are not necessarily new to the dance of crafting joint albums, with Vultures 1 coincidentally being the third collaborative album the artists have done throughout their accolade-spangled careers.
The sixteen-song LP is a casserole of genres ranging from hip-hop and trap to R&B and house. Seasoned with hints of gospel and industrial music, the mixture is helmed by some of the finest record producers, including Timbaland, No I.D., Mike Dean, and Ye himself. Yet, as masterly and expensive as the lineup is, the uneven concoction of genres throws the mind into vertigo, plunging the album’s flight into a state of perennial turbulence that relegates its flow to that of a rickety mixtape at best.
The looseness of the album (mostly thanks to Ye’s trolling) doesn’t help the project, as its life hinges on the reputations of the men of the moment. Outside the zest brought forth by their guests and the polished (yet misarranged) production, there’s hardly anything concrete and memorable about the album. Vultures 1 limps from track to track in search of fire that merely flickers and dies as when a spark meets a wet piece of wood. The presence is there only as a promise that is sadly left unfulfilled by uninspired showings. With Ty, Ye just can’t seem to replicate the kaleidoscopic version of himself that made The Throne one of the most entertaining hip-hop acts of the 2010s. Ty himself – although a better half of the duo – struggles to get a foot in. The result is an album of two talents who just can’t seem to mirror each other right.
The shining – and perhaps most human – moment on the album is “Talking”, which features North West, Ye’s daughter, on her singing debut. As brief and clunky as her verse is, her child-like spunk is a rose growing in a desolate wasteland, a defining feature that stands out amid the monotone of jaded performances. Ty himself details his thoughts on fatherhood in the song, and the whole moment comes together in harmony that can’t be found again till the trap-backed “Vultures (Juice Version)” alongside Lil Durk and Bump J.
Vultures 1 isn’t a thingamajig that causes regurgitation upon consumption, but the album certainly is not palatable enough to even chew on. The only weight it holds is of the names of the men who made it, not the content, which is a mixed blessing. On one hand, the listener is forced to tolerate subpar music while being held hostage by the fantastic potential of the duo. On the flip side of the coin, the sound is crisp and pleasantly unpredictable, creating a soul-crushing paradox that leaves the album a hot mess.
