Feature credits all day…

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Jonathan Bradley: Now this is more like it! No more baby pictures, no more campfire strum-alongs, just post-Yeezus clatter aired out with a bit of MBDTF lushness. When was the last time Ye went this hard with the rappity-rapping? The “Power” remix? These dense thickets of verbiage don’t come naturally to him — West has never been a natural, just a hard worker and a quick learner — and you can hear how long it must have taken him to map out verses this pointed and precise: each grinding hour compacted into a ball-bearing syllable and punched into the beat like shrapnel. He’s is in peak form here, rhyming “sensei” with “tenth grade” and “Dikembe,” while still finding time to drop classic Kanyeisms about how he’s “worth both MJs” and “like a light-skinned slave, boy.” (Is the subsequent punchline, “we in the motherfucking house,” the Platonic ideal of Yeezy-brand smart-dumb, clever-offensive wordplay?) The contrast with his verse on “Blessings” is instructive; B-listers like Big Sean don’t warrant material this premium. How long could I have it on repeat? 
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Alfred Soto: I counted one section in this song worth a relisten: Allan Kingdom’s “At the moment I dispersed” while the track drops the echo and goes rat-tat-tat. Surrounding a typicallly naff Paul McCartney lyric (“Let me run till you’re off my case”?!) with “Galaga” effects will impress the kids, although I suppose it and he are there to remind listeners that he can hire Paul McCartney. Through four minutes of pedestrian verses, I consider the “Ride ’round listening to Sade” the dumbest. Don’t remind people that Diddy, one of the names credited for production, released one of the millennium’s best R&B/hip-hop revues in 2010.
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Jonathan Bogart: Kanye’s knack for irritatingly simple hooks that nag into accreting cultural weight has not diminished, even though most everything else (except, of course, the budgets) has. The production sounds like his greatest hits of the last five years all mashed together, from 808s warble to Fantasy suite structure to Throne conspicuous consumption to Yeezus clatter. It’s all just so very, suffocatingly, on-brand.
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Will Adams: Finally, there’s a hook and intrigue instead of left-field dalliances with other genres. Even though its seams show a bit, each section is appropriately massive and monstrous, from the sustained HANH opening to the gurgling outro.
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Brad Shoup: This is just enough to clear out the Father John Mistyisms of “Awesome” from the mind. It’s a goon cut that’s actually mostly Kanye; it goes hard but finally overlong; it’s a song built for clubs that ends with West farting all over Paul McCartney. It’s even weirder when you consider how well he’s transformed others’ voices as a producer. Noel Ellis’ minor-key croon becomes a hellish warning shot; elsewhere, shouting becomes an industrial element. No one else does this kind of dismissiveness with this much skill — hell, with this much fun.
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Micha Cavaseno: YEEZY SEASON APPROACHING. “All Day” is most notable for me by the official ascension of the eternally underrated Theophilius London to the Cudi role, where he turns in a mangled attempt at the mutant industrial bashment crooning that festered and nestled within Kanye’s last LP. Kanye is all brash chest-thumping as is the role of Mr West 2.0, playing the world’s most hated despot with so much pride and vigor that I always forget he used to be the antithesis of this sort of rap persona for such a long period of wasted time. “FAKE DENZEL” has to be one of the greatest corny punchlines of the year, while the Sade fan snub has me ready to snuff him in his diamond teeth for just how effective it can be. The beat itself is a bit psuedo-sparse as he loves to abuse, a trick him and Drake are flapping in our face to annoying degrees (“HOW MUCH LESS IS MORE CAN I PULL OFF!?!?” Kanye is nasally nagging to an exasperated Mike Dean somewhere in Hawaii). And its a bit more tricky to see where Macca lies here, my guess is somewhere around the end in that harmonious bit, but that could easily be the help of appallingly mediocre Allan Kingdom. Could the fat have been trimmed? Sure. Am I salty about his use of the UK’s urban scene as props/back-up dancers to unveil the single at the Brits? Yeah. Am I already hooked for the next record? Yep.
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