For some reason, it has become cool to hate Drake. The common wisdom on the Toronto−born rapper is that he's the "softest rapper in the game," in Kanye West's words — a weak phony who represents everything that's wrong with the rap industry.
Maybe it's because of his dichotomous obsession with his love of money and hatred of fame. Or maybe it's the fact that his career started earlier this decade on "Degrassi: The Next Generation," in which he played the wheelchair−bound Jimmy on the Nickelodeon tween melodrama.
But what is conveniently ignored in the discussions about Drake's softness is the fluidity and depth to his music, as well as the genuine self−awareness in the songs he produces. The title of his nearly−20−track sophomore effort, "Take Care," intends to reflect the time and effort Drake directed into making the album that he wanted — not what the music industry wanted. As a result, "Take Care" stands as a beacon of smoothness and completeness that not many others can create.
The album begins with a melodic track, "Over My Dead Body," that features a haunting hook from fellow Canadian Chantal Kreviazuk and sets the tone for the rest of the album. Drake raps, "Nowadays it's six figures when they tax me/ Oh well, guess you lose some and win some/ Long as the outcome is income," and "Red wine over Fed time" in the song, portraying his revenue−focused mindset.
Sounding a little like "The Wire's" (2002−2008) Stringer Bell, Drake is more interested in the cash flow than in the fake−gangster lifestyle that fellow Young Money Entertainment superstars ascribe to. It's this notion that's the most important aspect of the new, self−aware Drake that we see now. He just wants to be loved, make a little money and get back to Canada.
Many more strong tracks follow, including the now−ubiquitously heard "Headlines," which still holds up as the best song on the album. These impressive songs epitomize Drake's rapping and singing and showcase the impressive production of his longtime sidekick Noah "40" Shebib.
"Take Care," a booming and poppy sing−song track, will without a doubt be the next song coming from every hit−music radio station in the country. Drake and his ex−lover, Rihanna, trade verses about romance, drinking and weed — which very well may be Drake's favorite three things in the world. The result is a catchy, palatable song for every listener.
Drake and 40 also coax the best out of a number of guest rappers, including Nicki Minaj on the track "Make Me Proud." Minaj spits her best verse in a long while, using different voices and evoking her verse on Kanye's "Monster" (2010) from nearly a year ago. Drake raps a tightly−wound verse full of in−line rhymes and adds a well−sung hook before Minaj comes in and kills a verse of her own.
In addition, good ol' Rick Ross makes an appearance on "Lord Knows," a religious−sounding track on which Drake displays bravado infrequently heard on the rest of the album. The Teflon Don's harshness contrasts with Drake's musing that "showin' emotion don't ever mean I'm a p−−−y."
Unfortunately, there are a couple of obligatory Lil' Wayne and Birdman features that add little to the album as a whole. At this point, Drake is rising quickly while Weezy and Birdman continue to fall, and their appearances on "HYFR" and "We'll be Fine," respectively, show just how far Drake has come and how much more impressive he is than his mentors. The two sound as if they are grasping for straws, while Drake remains confident and hungry for more success.
But, of course, Drake does get a little emo from time to time on "Take Care," whining about his fame and sounding like a desperate lover on a number of different occasions. The most obvious example of this comes through on the pre−released "Marvin's Room," a whiny drunk dial of a song in which Drake raps about "having a hard time adjusting to fame."
But the beauty of Drake lies in the eloquent way he manages to pull off these crooning, softie pieces of work. His melodic and depressed voice mixes right in with tight rhymes, and there is no one who oohs and ahs better than the man who once played Jimmy.
If you listen just to the sounds and the wailing he can't help himself from incorporating, Drake is a softie. But in reality, these croons are just a man coming to terms with his newfound fame, unaware how to handle it just as almost any 25−year−old would be. Rather than pretending he has a hold on his popularity and rapping about his love of life, Drake gives insight into what goes into his music and how he just wants to be loved by the city he grew up in while maintaining his ever−swelling bank account.
"Take Care" summarizes Drake's emotional coordinates at this point in his life. Some may take sport in laughing at his trivial moans, but the quality of the music is far too high to let that stand in its way. From the beginning to the end, Drake bombards the listener with everything he has, exposing himself in a manner that places him alongside some of the best artists in the game right now. He puts his whole mind into the album, and out of his endeavor comes a sensitive, sensual and sensible record full of songs suited for pop radio, wild parties, depressed nights alone and everything in between.
