When the dialogue surrounding a Platinum-selling, Grammy-winning rapperās new surprise project primarily concerns the backstage drama surrounding its price point, thatās a problem. (Donāt believe me? Do a Google search.)
Perhaps itās because Drakeās new mixtape (album?) If Youāre Reading This Itās Too Late lacks diversity in sound and subject matter. Several of its beats mimic the hypnotic piano loops of last yearās smash hit singles āBelieve Meā and ā0 to 100 / The Catch-Upā, while lyrical retreads of āWorst Behaviorā and its chest-beating boasts are all too common. The stark, tender, andāmost importantlyārelatable confessionals of 2009ās star-making mixtape So Far Gone and the following yearās stellar debut album Thank Me Later are more or less absent until its downtempo conclusion.
As with everything else in his life, Drake is plenty aware of his regression: āI’m turnin’ into a nigga that thinks about money and women / Like 24/7, that’s where my life took me,ā he spits on āKnow Yourselfā. On the bright side, the 6 God clearly gives a shit about rapping again. Maybe his summer tour with Lil Wayne, chock-full of classic hits featuring fluid flows, lit a fire under his ass. Whatever the case may be, this is the least R&B, Auto-Tune-centric project weāve seen from Drizzy since 2007ās Comeback Season, back when he was little more than a backpack rapper in the vein of Lupe Fiasco and Kanye West.
While the Drake of 2015 bears scant surface resemblance to his younger self, he regains a compelling fascination with rhythm and repetition on If Youāre Reading This Itās Too Late. Drake may fall into overused flows from time to time āas is the trend these daysā but there are moments of undeniable brilliance here. He turns every cadence into a hook, latching onto a hot rhythm or pattern throughout a verse only to flip it on its head by the end. āEnergyā sways effortlessly over another somber piano riff, ā10 Bandsā makes ample use of pauses, nearly every song features egregiously stretched syllables that rubber band back to swift spitting, and bonus track āin New Yorkā unleashes the lyrical beast weāve been waiting for since āin Toronto.ā At his best, Drake makes every line count.
At his worst, he sounds soulless under layers of sonic sludge and ugly, forced nihilism. How many times can Drake bitch and moan about his wealth, his thankless work ethic, his prowess with the ladies, etc. etc. over murky backing tracks before even the most ardent of fans get queasy? This is a 17-track project clocking in at 70 minutes, and it certainly feels like Drakeās cleaning house before the impending release of his proper fourth studio album Views from the 6. Hereās hoping the monotony is out of his system, but itās hard to be optimistic when this has been Drakeās modus operandi for the past two years.
āCompanyā opens with a laundry list of Drakeās needsāa girl from the country, a girl from Kentucky, a shawty from Houston, a girl who gon’ love him, a girl who gon’ trust himā¦cry me a fucking riverāaccompanied by typically snooze-worthy production from the scourge of the rap scene himself, Travi$ Scott. Seriously, the only thing more frustrating than his messily layered atmospherics is his slapdash use of Auto-Tune. (And donāt get me started about the two tracks featuring PARTYNEXTDOOR. Justā¦no.)
But the good ultimately outweighs the bad. The dangerously monotonous ā6 Godā is saved by a hellacious beat, āEnergyā is straight-up mean in the best possible way, āNow & Foreverā reminds us why Drizzy is one of the best hooksmiths in the game, and then thereās āYou & the 6ā, a classic Drake confessional and argument-cum-love letter to his mother that will induce feels in even the toughest rap forum warriors:
āAnd look I hate it when you hate on all my girlfriends
And assistants always convinced that there’s always someone better
Like that girl from that gym who trains you
I know you wanna arrange it, you told me she’s free Thursday
And I’m sure that she’s a angel but she don’t want this life, the timing ain’t right
Maybe one day but even one day with us is a time of a life
We do things that people pay to document
You got the sweetest heart but I’m not here to give out compliments, or boost nobody confidence momma
I got no friends in this, momma, I don’t pretend with this, momma, Iāon joke with this, momma”
Thatās the sort of unfiltered honesty and sincerity that got Drake to where he is, as demonstrated with the daring lyric āI know that showing emotion don’t ever mean I’m a pussyā from 2011ās āLord Knowsā. I really wish Drake would drop the Toronto gangster facade heās built up so carefully over the years but heās too far gone to go back.
If Youāre Reading This Itās Too Late is a solid projectāitās way better than Nothing Was the Same, an album that deserved a 4/10 in retrospectābut with all this talk of being a āLegendā and a ā6 Godā, itās not good enough. Iām just saying he could do better.
Rating: 6/10
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Nick Porcaro is a 24-year old graphic designer, musician and writer based in Jersey City, NJ. Nick graduated in 2012 from UArts in Philadelphia, PA with a BFA in Graphic Design. As a musician heās played guitar for over 10 years, in addition to dabbling in bass, drums and vocals. Nick currently plays rhythm guitar with Max Feinstein and has worked with Matt Scuteri, Sara Martin, Shakedown Inc., and The Nerd Who Ate St. Louis. When heās not freelancing for the Wilma Theater, Nick is writing songs for his debut solo record.
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