Review Summary: Drake cries us a river
I probably have sat myself down around half a dozen times in an attempt to write something up for the latest Drake album, but there's something about
Take Care that's making that impossible to do so. What is it? The f
uck if I know, per se, but it keeps on growing with every spin that I give the album. It's something about Drake's over-emotional sob story. The irony and the audacity to call out “soap opera” rappers when what he's given us with
Take Care is exactly that. The overinflated characterizations, the embellished emotional swings, the sex – they're all here, but where day time TV fails and Drake succeeds is in the humanity of it all. Drake still revels in the same kind of drama-laden story telling, but instead of the overacting and plastic jawlines he is the understanding thread of the common soul that lies within. I guess you could blame it all on Kanye West's rambling mad streak of wearing his wrecked and engorged heart on his sleeve and eventually making one of the few true break up albums for the teeth grinding E-tard club generation. Following it up with a statement that matched his batsh
it insane grandiose persona probably helped too. For the sake of argument “probably” means “of-f
ucking-course it did”.
Take Care is Drake throwing off all his fake Weezy swag and hoisting the Yeezy flag high (By the way, can we get rid of the whole shortened nickname thing please? You're f
ucking rappers, not Teletubbies...), getting rid of the worst of his
Thank Me Later cheesy party-isms and embracing his inner sensitive, drowning in pussy, emotional philosopher. Musically he plays the part with his in house songwriting/producer collaborator Noah “40” Shebib providing a moody and contemplative background to whatever Drake want's to put out be it singing, rapping, talking or stuttering – all of which he does a lot of. I'm not going to lie, it works. It works ridiculously well.
Take Care is equal parts dick-waving egoism, emotional wreckage, and mature understanding. Does he talk about himself like he's the second coming of Christ? Of course, this is a modern pop-hop album and that kind of machismo is not only expected, it's required. Does he dwell on lost love and quick flings like somewhere deep in his memories lies the cure to cancer and the only way to reach it is to regurgitate everything to everyone? Well, duh, it's a break up album. Does he always take the high road and revel in the positivity of it all and place his former flames high on a pedestal, placing the blame on his own failings and creating one of the most genuinely human rap albums in recent memory? Absolutely, and
that's something.
