Look. Aubrey Graham is the man. Let’s not get it twisted. When Drake drops, the culture stops. Yet I am here today to say that this should no longer be the case. Views? Disappointing. Bloated. More Life? Had some heaters on there, no lie. Interesting radio debut presentation. Not mad at that one. Scorpion? Bloated. Little bit of heat, though. But ultimately whiny. Dark Lane Demo Tapes? Next, please! Certified Lover Boy? Unfocused, uninspired, and rather cringe. I’m skipping over Her Loss. And lastly, Honestly, Nevermind, while brave in a sense, was complete and utter ass. He disrespected the house genre by not delivering a lick of authenticity on that record. Remember, these are just opinions. Drake will always be doper than me. And that’s the truth.
Album Review: James Blake – Playing Robots Into Heaven
But fuck that. My only request is for Drake to give a damn about his art. Nearly 15 years deep and Aubrey chose to reduce himself to a mere caricature of his former artistic self. Change is not only natural but necessary. I don’t blame Drizzy for switching things up, trying new sounds, or evolving from one god-awful fashion trend to another. His discography includes plenty of great songs and big-time bangers. And he should be respected as such. Nevertheless these past five years have been rough to say the least. Especially from a lyrical perspective. Of course, at any time, Drake will display his hip-hop prowess when he feels like it. Yet I would argue he hasn’t matched quality bars with quality songwriting since If You’re Reading This It’s Too Late. Now he gives you one or the other — OR neither whatsoever. Apparently because he can. This is no different across For All The Dogs, sadly.
Album Review: Doja Cat – Scarlet
I mean, shit, this album ain’t even for the dogs! It’s just another album cycle. For All The Dogs is like Brandon Ingram scoring 17 against the Bulls in November. Nobody cares what happens, and we all expected better. This is in no way the worst album I’ve heard. However, you already know what that statement entails. Yeah, this album? Under-fucking-whelming. Forgive my lack of effort in this review. I reflect what’s been offered to me. Lemme hit y’all with the tracks I actually enjoyed, though. First, “8am in Charlotte.” Another perfect, soulful Drake freestyle track. So smooth we don’t even need a hook. Next, “Slime You Out.” Classic Drizzy pettiness, chef’s kiss. Then, “Daylight” at least had some authentic grit to it. The zoomer flow he uses somehow didn’t piss me off. Kudos, sir.
J. Cole ate his verse up. SZA is SZA(!) Bad Bunny performed just how he needed to. It comes down to focus. Maintaining focus for this many years isn’t easy. I don’t want to simply sit here and dunk on more secure men than I. The results prove my point nonetheless. Scarface skits won’t save Drake from not caring. He’s rich enough not to care. His life continues to be amazing. And I’m glad he’s having fun with existence. That’s really what it boils down to in the long run. All I’m saying is: Personally, I’m fed up with top artists handing in slop.
