Drake: He’s Officially Too Far Gone

The international superstar who used to be everybody’s favorite sad boy has traded his emotional raps for radio money-grabbers.

Written by Dylan Keesee
Illustration by Mark Yoder

Aubrey “Drake” Graham. You know him, you love him — or maybe you don’t. Regardless of your opinion, you have to admit the rapper/singer has an unparalleled influence on the music industry. His beginnings saw him in his rawest form, rapping and singing about his breakups, accomplishments, and being a side piece. As he developed into the cultural icon that he is today, he strayed away from the things he knew and became more industrialized, churning out mindless — albeit catchy — bops that he may not have even wrote.

Drake was at his prime on his sophomore studio album, Take Care. His raw emotion paired with his intermittent corny bars represented his most genuine form. He was two years into his rap career (and two years past his “Degrassi” farewell) and signed to Young Money with Lil Wayne. Drake’s confident, emotional songs could be heard nationwide. But as he grew personally and musically, his emotional lyrics became less genuine and more forced, and the majority of songs on his later albums became boisterous, “My pool is bigger than your pool,” songs.

His character reflected that too. Suddenly, Drake wasn’t the rapper who “started from the bottom” — on the set of Degrassi. He was the rapper who flew his $220 million private jet around the Toronto Raptors championship parade. Drake was sitting courtside at almost every Golden State Warriors basketball game and making a fool of himself simply because his stardom allowed it. Veering away from musical and social relatability, Drake alienated his old fans but gained some new ones who were accustomed to seeing an over-the-top, extravagant celebrity.

His most recent albums, More Life and Scorpion, were both excessively long and ordinary. He took elements from cultures that were gaining musical clout (like his Patois accent and dancehall beats, for example), exploiting them for the surefire radio hits that would get him the most plays and, consequently, the most money. It seemed that Drake created mediocre 22+ song albums in the hopes that there would be as many hits as possible. 

And it worked. Drake successfully traded his genuity for profit, having three number one singles on his last album: “Nice For What,” “God’s Plan,” and “In My Feelings.” 

But, in early August, Drake released Care Package, a surprise compilation album that contained some of his biggest hits that were never available for streaming, like “Girls Love Beyonce” and “How Bout Now.” These songs reminded fans — both day ones and new — that Drake was a man of the people, giving them the songs that they had gone to YouTube to listen to for so long. It was a fresh reminder that he was actually good and has music that feels like he wanted to make it, instead of music that pandered to the radio.

And yet, there was something off about the release. Sure, he made the songs available on all major streaming services, but it seems almost deceptive. Drake took his old, well-known songs and released them as a “gift” to fans to remind them that he’s still the same rapper he used to be. It even comes after Drake acknowledged the complaints that critics had of him on Scorpion, possibly as an attempt to make the fans forget about those same issues. 

Despite these complaints about Drake’s ingenuity, almost everything he puts out is an immediate hit, or at the very least, high on the charts for at least two weeks. Nothing appears to be able to stop his stardom. Not even the rap beefs that give proof of Drake’s use of ghostwriters (see: Meek Mill/Drake beef, Pusha T/Drake beef). Not even the weird behavior he displays with teenage girls (see: His relationship with Millie Bobby Brown, his relationship with Bella Harris, his overly sexual interaction with a 17-year-old on-stage at his concert). And not even the multiple rappers who have claimed that Drake stole his flow (see: Soulja Boy’s complaints, Rappin’ 4 Tay’s lawsuit).

But hey, 
Never forget:
“I only love my bed and my mama, I’m sorry!”