Relying on Christ to clothe one’s flaws is customary to some – M.I.7 thrusts the fullness of weight onto its theist crutch to clothe M.I.A’s musical and ideological flaws.
The album is M.I.A’s seventh. “Seven” is key. M.I.A. is as obsessed with the number as much as she is Christianity, enough to name the album after a British military intelligence agency (or an “M.I.A.”). Seven introductions/interludes are scattered around the album in reference to the “seven trumpets” from the Book of Revelations, and recording took place in seven didn’t locations over the world, which is, if nothing else, a waste of air travel.
She gets a little too lost in the muck of her own concept, whether numerical or evangelical. As M.I.A. descends further into conspiracy theorist Hell, she draws parallels with Kanye West in her personal life and music, the latter of which splits into two: laughable neo-pop hymnal (holy shit (pun intended), just read the lyrics of Ride the Sky and Everything) and declination of creativity.
M.I.A. even recruits Kanye’s pals at the Sunday Service Choir on Jesus. As Christians, the choir singers are naturally charitable, but you’d think they’d be sick of popular artists commanding them to sing the most unflattering, basic profiles on their lord by now. “Oh boy, we get to sing JEEEEESUS because some singer who just discovered him wants us to”. Nice organ though, accommodating.
I suppose she has more of an excuse to be a novice than Kanye was back in 2019. She is born-again and it shows. Prayer 777 is the most “I’ve just found out who Jesus is” song you’re ever likely to hear – “Jesus is king, he’s got anointing / when I’m on my knees, he washes all my sins”.
Her shield is her use of religion as a guise of concept, to compensate for her saddening creative decline. Her sword is her decision to tout religion alongside whatever political bombardments she can still come up with; a lambasting of material things on Money, sort of like the cuddlier version of Paper Planes; an honest-to-God (pun intended) weaponisation of Christianity on Circle, on which she intently strikes her foes with her faith whilst namedropping a few more biblical references just learnt at camp.
Let’s face it, she’d be using religion as a weapon regardless of her honesty on the subject. This album is aggressive; it’s door-to-door. Her goal seems to be to overwhelm anyone and everyone, not to spread joy. The only song that feels joyous is Sacred Heart; a warming chord progression, sincere and up-close lead vocal, and featured vocal from M.I.A’s mother, Kala.
The agnostic in me isn’t convinced. If I were religious, but otherwise the same person, I’d probably be embarrassed. M.I.7. is far too self-congratulatory to be taken as gospel. We’re way too far removed from when M.I.A. lit up the world in the mid-2000s, rampaging her way to superstardom without casing her intensity, integrity or intelligence (Kurt Angle’s three I’s). In 2026, she has exchanged all for an evangelical front, all to give the church its latest babysitting job.
Best track – Sacred Heart.
Rating – 2 out of 10
