Kanye West: My Beautiful Dark Twisted Fantasy (Roc-A-Fella/Def Jam) – review

Giddy fantasia ... Kanye West's album doesn't just impress by dint of numbers The highest office in the land rarely weighs in on American hip-hop. But no less than two US presidents have referred to Kanye West recently: Barack Obama called him a "jackass" and – worse – George Bush mispronounced his name as "Conway". Having begun his career feted for sped-up soul samples on Jay-Z productions – Devil in a New Dress supplies a flashback here – West is now notorious for his behaviour, rather than his music: his petulant egomania, compulsive tweeting, hissy fits at award ceremonies and, more compellingly, for causing what Bush described as the lowest point of his presidency.

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Country singer Conway Twitty is probably the only guest artist who doesn't crop up on West's herculean fifth effort. He probably would have done if he was still alive. This opulent, saturated LP deploys a symposium of talents from the indie backwoods (Bon Iver), the pop pantheon (Elton John) and many points between. Comedian Chris Rock is hilariously foul-mouthed at the end of Blame Game; his riff on pudenda is taken up again by a sampled Gil Scott-Heron on West's political closer, Who Will Survive in America. Around 10 producers show off on these 13 maximal tracks, in stark contrast to the relative minimalism of West's previous album, 808s & Heartbreak. Probably no one but Kanye and his exhausted production accountant knows the final tally of guest vocalists, many of whom spent weeks in Hawaii at the start of this year in what West allegedly (and fairly accurately) described as "the craziest studio in the western world right now". All of the Lights – the album's most magnificent high – really does call on the leading lights of pop in wholesale fashion. Beginning with an Elton John piano interlude, it swells with synths set to grievous bodily harm, beats that simulate bodies rolling over one another, and a Greek chorus of pop stars – Rihanna, Alicia Keys, Fergie from the Black Eyed Peas, and even La Roux. Hip-hop albums are often ensemble pieces but – in the words of another densely populated track, So Appalled – "this shit is fucking ridiculous". Post-Facebook, the significance of one's friend-count can be overstated. But My Dark Twisted Fantasy – a flawed near-masterpiece – doesn't impress just by dint of numbers. Take All of the Lights, which backs up operatic levels of sound with great drama. In the verse, West's troubled protagonist comes home to find his girl with another man. Then West, in his role as God, commands there to be light, to lay bare the scene of betrayal and vengeance. His subsequent rhymes about access visits are some of the most gripping here. Beginning on a vertiginous high with 2004's The College Dropout, West's flow has become less appealing with each successive album, as his underdog cheek has given way to the high dudgeon of a successful star tediously battling "haters". There are couplets of mischievous brilliance here ("Praise due to the most high/ Allah/ Praise due to the most fly/ Prada") but Jay-Z, former Clipse member Pusha T and Nicki Minaj all outflank him, the latter spitting the performance of her life on Monster. And West's giddy fantasia is twisted. His protagonists tend to see women as ruthless money-grabbers who exchange sexual favours for shopping trips. It's a stance that doesn't change even on Runaway, a mid-album grandstand softened by some puppy-dog eyes. How much of this is sincere? How much is polemic? It's hard to tell, but there's a clue in Runaway when a repeated shout of "Reaction!" runs from left to right. Taking things to the next level is one of hip-hop's great cliches, an achievement that West can comfortably claim. Being both a hero and something of a jackass all at the same time? That's another thing entirely.