Drake released his seventh studio album, Certified Lover Boy, on September 3rd, 2021. Future, JAY-Z, Kid Cudi, and more appear across the 21 tracks. Instead of doing the NEXT review, Yoh decided to sum the entire album up with one sentence:
America created a monster.
Drake: Certified Lover Boy
Guest review by Kia
If you’re anticipating a review that glorifies a soon-to-be 35-year-old man’s lust-filled entanglements, opulent ignorance, and petty anger, then you’re reading the wrong review.
Certified Lover Boy is more than just an album to review — it’s a motif that has followed the Toronto-born rapper since chasing hearts and money via the iconic So Far Gone mixtape cover.
For many who have listened to the overwhelming 21-track album, they found Drake trapped inside the persona he has carefully curated over the last 12 years.
Yet, somewhere between the dark atmospheric production and magnetic compositions, the man who rewrote the playbook on reigning in popular music has become lost in his own self-imposed archetypes.
Failed trials in intimacy, numerous industry lashings from legends to peers, frustrations over the trappings of fame, and being in the perceived “number one” spot has left his persona jaded and desensitized…
A conflicting question popular artists constantly face: How do I redefine the narratives in my career that have made me successful?
For Drake, whose mainstream appeal has yet to show signs of slowing down, the question becomes: How do you please your core fans while remaining relevant?
The answer is simple – you don’t.
“I’m trying to just relate what I can see through my own eyes,” he explains on the album’s opener.
Truth is, Certified Lover Boy is a collection of predictable tales. There is nothing earth-shattering that will redefine the socio-political landscape that we are currently living in.
It will not win any Pulitzer Prizes, nor will it sonically influence a generation of young musicians.
But why should it?
After nearly five years of clouded boundaries and emotional distance, Certified Lover Boy is the album where Drake chooses to revel in the fun complexities of his facade.
The moment the chopped and screwed rendition of The Beatles’ “Michelle'' by Singers Unlimited filters through the theatrical stylings of producer Noah “40” Shebib on “Champagne Poetry,” it’s evident that Drake’s latest offering is a flex of dominance and acceptance for being the artist of a decade.
After noting that he’s been “hot since the birth of his son,” what follows is a homage to familiarity — Drake finds himself lost in the library of Aubrey Graham. Pulling together elements that have defined the quintessential Drake sound.
There’s the taunting delivery of “Papi’s Home” where Drake indulges in the boastfulness of “I remember that I told you I miss you, that was kinda like a mass text” (reminiscent to the familiar “I group DM all my exes”) and reminds the generation of new hitmakers and Tik Tok rappers that:
“I’m standing at the top, that’s how I know you never seen the top.”
The lively contradictions of “TSU” and “Pipe Down” that are filtered with catchy yet sexist lines such as “We used to do pornos when you would come over but now you got morals and shit” only further add to the thematic sequence that ends with Drake’s more modern take of JAY-Z’s “Song Cry” with the new fan favorite “Pipe Down.”
There’s a level of honesty that has to be respected for a man who is willing to admit that “you know I love you more than all them niggas put together” and his willingness to further question how much he has to do for her to shut up — “How much I gotta spend for you to pipe down? How deep I gotta dig for you to pipe down?”
The impressive cohesion of “7am On Bridle Path” adds to the exciting track record of Drake and his signature time stamp records with lines like “I can give a fuck about who designing your sneakers and tees / have somebody put you on a Gildan, you play with my seed.”
“Knife Talk” with the help of 21 Savage and the legendary Project Pat provides an exemplary homage to the instrumental significance of Three 6 Mafia and Memphis rap — all of which pay global and cultural homage to various aspects of Drake’s career.
The cinematic beauty of “Yebba’s Heartbreak,” “Champagne Poetry” and “The Remorse” provide referential comfort to Views’ “Summers Over Interlude,” Nothing Was the Same’s “Tuscan Leather” and Take Care’s “The Ride.”
As a chameleon who uses the album to sonically blur lines, Drake’s ability to bend genres and adapt to the duality of cultural changes is what makes him so influential. His influences have become a part of the textbook studies that have allowed Drake to master the game of rap.
When we watch a professional basketball game, we know the signature moves of our favorite players. We study them. We dissect them. We emulate them. We will even encourage the repetition of said moves if it means a win for our team.
Drake treats the art of hip-hop not like a passion project or full-time job but as a sport. The coachings and playbook he has followed have led him to consistent wins and MVP titles.
So if we can watch our faves continuously use their signature moves for a desired result, why can’t Drake?
Is it because he hasn’t reached the level of humility and sensibility to match his peers personally or artistically? Or is it because he’s a wealthy, crude, egotistical asshole who can do and say as he pleases until the world stops paying attention?
When did maturity become a requirement for music to be good?