Two weeks ago, on a nondescript Thursday night, Drake surprise released his fourth album (if you listen to Wikipedia) or a $12.99 mixtape (if you listen to Drake). Within minutes, rumours were flying: did he record and release the album secretly, without the direction of his label Cash Money, so that he could free himself of contract requirements and jump off the sinking YMCMB ship? Why is he calling it a mixtape and charging album prices for it? Did he really call out Tyga for his alleged relationship with 17 year-old Kylie Jenner? But looking back now after the dust has settled, this entire ordeal was quintessential Drake. Co-opting a new and popular trend, in this case the surprise album release popularized by Beyoncé, and making himself the face of that trend is basically his MO. He got his start flipping the theme of Kanye’s 808s & Heartbreak and kickstarting the trend of introspective downtrodden rap that has now permeated the entire genre. He jumps on trends started by other, younger rappers (Migos, ILoveMakonnen), bringing them under his wing while amalgamating their ideas in a sort of mutually beneficial symbiotic relationship. Passive-aggressive jabs at other rappers? Also very Drake. And as for the music, it could never be mistaken for anyone other than Drake. 17 cold, paranoid yet melodic tracks make up If You’re Reading This…, and although their sub-genres range from cavernous R&B (“Preach”) to sparse Southern rap (“10 Bands”), they form a cohesive whole that showcases Drake’s enormous progression.
Honestly, my first time through If You’re Reading This… I wasn’t even sure if I liked it. I missed the big hooks from his previous albums, the songs that were clearly destined for radio play. There’s not too much of that here, where most of the tracks are painted in grey, ice blue, and deep purple. But what he eschews in immediacy he makes up for in complexity and cohesion. The themes, both musically and lyrically, are moody and frustrated and angry, which is par for the course for a Drake album. But the difference is: instead of interspersing these moments with celebrations of love and excess as on his previous albums, he plows right through with the bleakness. On “Know Yourself” he’s “running through the city with my woes” over a spare and biting beat from Boi-1da. On “Used To,” featuring an invigorated Lil’ Wayne, he “ain’t felt the pressure in a little while / it’s gon’ take some getting used to.” This album isn’t for the radio, and I’m not sure it wasn’t even made with the fans in mind. It’s specifically by Drake, for Drake, and that’s the mindset you need heading into it in order to fully understand and enjoy it. And yet, the album’s been wildly successful simply because it is by Drake. Inconceivably, all 17 tracks on the album have entered the Billboard Top 50 Hip-Hop & R&B tracks list despite not a single one being promoted as a true single. That’s the beauty of Drake: when he’s on his game, the entire industry warps in order to accommodate him.
Initially, so many lyrics on this album came across as corny. This is Drake we’re talking about, so you can always expect some degree of cringe-worthiness in the lyrics, but I was seriously worried that he’d lost all sense of self-awareness on a few of these songs. On “Energy:” “Fuck goin’ online that ain’t part of my day.” I mean come on, man, your entire existence revolves around maintaining an online presence, from being the ambassador for the Raptors, to throwing up Soundcloud remixes and freebies that get nominated for Grammies, to just releasing an online-only album. And then there’s this line on “Preach:” “Still in Miami / Most of these girls are too messy / I’ve got to do some reflecting.” Or the bit on “Legend” where he complains about giving girls his Wifi password just so they can show him their Facebook drama. How can Drake be so fixated on these minor problems given the life he’s living? But after I’d gone through the album a few more times and let it sink in a little more, I realized I’d missed an important distinction: these lyrics may sound corny, but what they really are is honest. Everyone has problems, and just because Drake’s seem minor to the average person doesn’t mean that they aren’t important to him. One of Drake’s biggest talents has been letting the listener in on what feels like a very private part of his psyche via his music, and this album is no different. If You’re Reading This It’s Too Late is a moody, bitter and painstakingly honest album because that’s the space Drake was in while he was recording it. And instead of ignoring that and making something dishonest, he’s given us a view into his current state of being, and we all benefit because of it.
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