But Vultures 2 represents a tipping point for West’s methodology of pushing the limits of a deadline, resulting in songs that sound either half-assed, such as the too-cutesy “Promotion,” or simply incomplete. Which, in some ways, might be the point: Like the first Vultures, this one leans more heavily on vibes and aesthetics than substance or emotion (other than self-pity, which is fully on display throughout “Husband”).
Ty does reliably good work here, but he’s more or less relegated to a supporting role, while West seems to be aiming to capture a moment rather than fully develop an idea into an actual song. “Fried,” a desperate attempt to recapture the fire-in-a-bottle energy of the more manic “Carnival,” serves as the working thesis for this ethos: all bluster, zero modesty. At one point, West, perhaps a tad too self-aware, aptly sums it up: “What if I start off the track, hum the beginnin’/Fuck up the middle part, and mumble the endin’?”
Despite all the stern swaggering, Vultures 2 is deeply unserious. A disconnected malaise permeates the album, from West’s almost non-presence on many tracks (quite literally, as he’s employed generative AI for some of his vocals, with others rapping for him) to the sluggish, repetitive beat selection that turns tracks like the menacing “Dead” into non-starters.
Even the occasional sparks of interest, like Kodak Black hopping on a sample of Portishead’s “Machine Gun” for the cluttered “Field Trip” or Lil Wayne delivering some quotable lines on “Lifestyle,” prove fleeting. This makes something like “Bomb,” a vanity song where West’s children North and Chicago rap in Japanese over a Jersey club beat, a double-edged sword: It’s terrible, yes, but at least someone sounds like they’re having fun, and it’s certainly not Dad.
What’s perhaps most frustrating about Vultures 2 is that it provides glimpses of the high level of quality formerly associated with West’s output. “Slide,” which currently stands at the pinnacle of the Vultures era alongside “Fuk Sumn” and “Beg Forgiveness,” is a high-octane fever dream, with its pairing of squealing organs and a booming percussion section sounding straight-up cinematic. And “River” transforms a fairly pedestrian Leon Bridges song into a touching and triumphant plea for freedom on behalf of both Larry Hoover and Young Thug, with a sleek Thugger feature tacked onto the start for good measure.
But those are exceptions, not the rule, on the 16-track album. One can only imagine that West might resort to using artificial intelligence to entirely craft Vultures 3, reportedly due later this year, and call it a day. At least then it might be finished on time.
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