Drake -- Honestly, Nevermind
[OVO Sound/Republic]
The mystery of Drake’s music is the question of who he’s writing it for. I have a list of potential subjects, but each one seems to crumble when you pull up evidence from the same album. Is it for the fuck boys? You know, the guys in light chains and skintight black “A” shirts who want to seduce women like a protagonist from a Drake ballad? Is it for the capital “G” Gurlz? The ones who find comfort in his–I don’t use this word lightly–simp-like sweet nothings? Those who just need a beat to throw ass to?
With a little bit of looking, it’s easy to tell that Drake isn’t particularly any of these people. You can find inconsistencies on who he’s trying to appeal to within minutes of each other on a Drake album. Scorpion, Views, More Life, each album more confusing than the last on who the hell this music is supposed to be for. Am I supposed to throw ass, serve c**t, soundtrack a party, or do a fabled “Drake and Drive”? Drake is a complex man and the only sensible answer has been that the music is for him more than anyone else.
But on Honestly, Nevermind, Drake isn’t even doing it for himself anymore. In response to the “fans”--really the critics–Canadian Aubrey Drake Graham has attempted a complete overhaul of his style to prove–and he’s always proving–that he’s still got it, that he can still think outside the box. Well if “outside the box” is where Drake wanted to go, then he didn’t land much farther than a few inches away.
Honestly, Nevermind is this–Drake swaps out his 808s and hi-hats for 808s, hi-hats, and a house beat, doing the same thing he’s always done over it. For the most part, this album sounds the same as any of Drake’s work in the last five years. Sing-rapping over noncommittal house beats that becomes the perfect background music to shop overpriced streetwear to–only now, there's an uns uns uns that even further perfects for fast fashion outlet mall monotony.
It’s not really worth spending a ton of time talking about the tracks because none of them were made to be digested carefully and critically. The opener “Falling Back” sounds like Drake trying to do “Passionfruit” again, with rose water synths and aloe vera 808s that transport you to a spa.
I guess it’s worth mentioning that the production is really solid. The album is mostly littered with solid little house beats that are so well engineered and inoffensive that it’s kind of impossible not to bob your head to them, even if you hate Drake with a passion. I’m pretty sure I don’t hate him, though as jaded as I was going into this album, I won’t lie, I didn’t dislike listening to it.
I honestly might just be spinning my wheels with Drake. This album, and most Drake albums, aren’t intended for the kind of literary criticism I approach it with. Drake doesn’t make albums for people who know the history of house music, nor the people who listen to songs critically. It’s a background album. An album that plays at thirty percent volume in a retail store.
Lots of music critics scoff at the scene of “lofi beats to chill/relax to” because we have this preconception that good music must grab your attention. The best music is engaging, thrilling, and intense. Drake is certainly antithetical to this. We can’t expect Drake to drop a Pimp A Butterfly, he’s not that kind of artist. However, it’s not too much to ask for a record that has a little umph, even the slightest ounce of risk and commitment, neither of which is present on Honestly, Nevermind.
shrugging emoji man/10.