Drake can’t sing (He relies heavily on autotune.) He’s not much of a rapper, either. And while we’re being completely honest, he’s a bit of a douche. And while that’s admittedly harsh, he also has a tremendous amount of charisma, in a lovable scoundrel kind of way. That’s why we love him. And up until now, he’s made a pretty good career out of exploiting the dichotomy of his persona: part bookish drama club child-actor; part weed-smoking, womanizing, rap star.
On his decent new record, Nothing Was The Same, Drake does his best to obliterate any remainder of his former self, he wants the world to see him less as a rapper and more as an pop icon. You can hear it in lyrics like, “and my latest shit is like a greatest hits.” And you can see it in the propaganda-style album art.
He’s “swanging” for the bleachers here. But unfortunately, the result is a bit of a mixed bag.
When Nothing Was The Same, is good it’s exceptional though. And there are a few absolute stunners. Primarily the early single, “Hold On We‘re Going Home” which sports an unimpeachable beat by Majid Jordan, and it’s easily one of the better songs of the year.
“Too Much,” features the glamerous vocals of Sampha, a man with a severe penchant for stealing the show on other people‘s records. And then there‘s the gorgeous, “From Time,” which might remind the listener of some of the better slow jams from Drake‘s last one, the excellent Take Care. That’s not a back-handed compliment either, the beat, by 40 and Chilly Gonzalez, is the stuff dreams are made of and Jhene Aiko’s singing is sublime here. (Sidebar: Aiko’s Sailing Souls, was one of the better, yet overlooked, mixtapes of 2011. You can be forgiven for sleeping on it though, especially when you consider it was the same year some very classic tapes dropped.)
The thing about the better cuts on the record is that Drake is outshined in each one by his collaborators. I wish it happened more often. The rest of the album suffers from too much, well, Drake frankly.
The absolute bottom feeder of the album is the wretched, “Own It.” It actually has a decent enough beat to it, but Drake uses it as an opportunity to tell (presumably, his lover) that, next time they fuck, he doesn’t want to just fuck, he wants to “make love.”
A noble goal indeed, albeit one I wish he‘d kept to himself – as I don‘t need the image of him weeping into a coked-out stripper’s genitals in my head. Unfortunately, that’s only half of the story, “Next time we talk,” he goes on, “I don’t wanna just talk, I wanna trust.”
Gag me with a fucking spoon.
The rest of the song just sort of limps along, tripping over itself really. “Own it / Own it / Own it / Own it / Own it / Own dat shit / Own dat shit / Own dat shit” sings a deep pitch-shifted voice. And forget that that voice is what auto tune was to hip hop 4 years ago. The real crime here is that it goes on like that for a really long time, for no good reason. Then after what feels like an eternity, Drake drops the most unintentionally hilarious line of his career, “Niggas talk more than bitches these days,” a ponderance he’s quite proud of, “I’ll just let that shit sink in,” he proclaims almost laughing at his own wit, as if his subjective observation was really something shocking to consider.
A couple songs later, on “Language” he continues rapping about his love life, “She just wanna smoke and fuck, I said girl that’s all that we do.” Not only is that line deeply telling of his artistic commitment in the middle of such a mediocre moment on the album, he drops it as if it were a perfectly good surrogate for a hook or a chorus, but it isn’t. He even taunts us on “Tuscan Leather,” about how “with no chorus we keep it thorough nigga.” When in fact he just wastes a brilliant beat that 40 and Boi 1da no doubt spent a lot of time on.
And ultimately, that’s the story of Nothing Was The Same, songs like “Wu Tang Forever” and “305 To My City” have great production, but not a drop of charm. Others like “Worst Behavior” and “Furthest Thing” are compelling enough to warrant a few listens, but lack the ability to connect with the listener in a meaningful way. Drake has enough good music here to make it worth your while, but if you look closely, it’s clear that very little of the quality here is due to Drake himself. Don’t be surprised if his next big career move isn’t a musical one (film or television perhaps?), but if he does do another album, here’s to hoping he brings a little more to the table than he did this time around.
Rating: 3.5/5