"Club Going Up On A Tuesday" was a contender
for somber club anthem of the year even before Drake lent his sad croon. More
seasick than celebratory, the breakout track by Atlanta rapper/singer
iLoveMakonnen sounds like a scene from a debaucherous party being rewound. Each
heave of Metro Boomin and Sonny Digital's nauseous synthesizers coughs up a
new detail from the night before. A red plastic cup full of stale beer sitting
on a wooden counter. A napkin with a smudged phone number in blue pen. The
couple in the corner whispering through a fight. iLoveMakonnen's shuffling his
feet across the makeshift linoleum dancefloor, tired from "Workin' Monday
night, on the corner flippin' hard." When he recalls how much he's made
over the stumbling drum machine hits, "at least 3000 on the
boulevard," his thin pubescent voice cracks. He’s out celebrating on
Tuesday because when Friday arrives his head will be hanging and his eyes will
be bloodshot. It's partying out of necessity, not habit.
Besides
giving the song a higher profile, a trick he's pulled before with "Versace"
and "Wildfire," Drake further dims the
lights in an already dark room. "Upstairs I got Xan's in an Advil
bottle," he growls through Auto-Tune in his "Worst Behavior" tone. "I don't
take them s****, but you do, so I got 'em for you," the Toronto rapper
finishes in a gentle falsetto. He's "in too deep" and doing three
shows in three nights. Too busy to party, the only escape is in his mind. At
the end, he’s looking back at the times he and his OVO crew had "the club
going up." You're left feeling sorry for Drizzy Drake as iLoveMakonnen's
infectious hook starts up again. We all dwell on the good times, when things
were brighter. When a party was just a party.
"I go 0 to 100 n**** real
quick," Drake repeatedly insists over the course of his sprawling new six
minute track "0 to 100/The Catch Up". No matter which angle you consider the claim
from, you see he's not lying. "0 to 100/ The Catch Up" is like Mystique from X-Men in rap form;
consistently shape-shifting. The song roars out of the gate with low-end
rumbles and unsettling guitar fragments with Drizzy saying "f*** it"
to "being on some chill s***." A little more than 2 minutes later
he's hitting the E-brake on the Maserati to park on the ethereal rap he and
partner in crime Noah "40" Shebib have perfected over the last few
years. Any drum-machine boom is replaced by a golf clap; nervous guitars tag
out for tranquil synthesizers.
But like I said, the song's
rapidly mutating quality can be seen from any vantage point. In his lyrics,
Drake crafts a panoramic vision where nightmares and dreams are on equal
display. One moment he fancies himself rap's "Steph Curry," and the
next he's recalling the time his absentee father neglected to pick him from his
house. His attempt to turn it into a lesson about never asking for help
flounders because he's noticeably shaken. Whatever chestpuffing he tries can't
mask a shattered visage.
Similar disappointment extends
to friends who receive shout-outs for "holding down the set," only to
be chastised for calling as soon as they need a favor. When Drizzy later admits
to being uncomfortable with love that's "unconditional," puzzle
pieces start falling into place. He's "too focused on people's
feedback" and while he craves attention, too much of the wrong kind will
make him wilt. He's still floating "somewhere between I want it and I got it."
Though he claimed "nothing was the same" on his stellar
third album it's clear that's untrue. The balance between "humble and
self-aware" is impossible to find, but he keeps trying.
If his claims of spring 2015 popping with "PND droppin', OB droppin', Majid Jordan droppin', not to mention me droppin'" are to be believed, "0-100/The Catch Up" may appear on the new LP. Also, like a lot of Drake efforts any more this one is load with too many quotables for one write-up. My personal favorite is "f*** all that rap to pay your bills s***; I’m
on some Raptors pay my bills s***," but I'd love to hear yours. So leave your own faves in the comments section below.
Leave it to Drake to get a beat
that samples Lauryn Hill's iconic "Doo Wop
(That Thing)" and not say word one about it. He big ups Johnny
Football, tips a cap to fellow Toronto-native Andrew Wiggins, crushes on
Jennifer Lawrence, and even namechecks Chance
the Rapper without knowing the first thing about him. But the former
Fugees-member is conspicuously absent from his checklist. "They too
worried 'bout b****es and fashion, they go missing in action, and then you
never notice they missing," he rattles off over the shifting vocal sample
and a sonorous drum-machine, knowing full there's someone he's missing.
But that one oversight becomes
relatively minor when you can accept "Draft Day" for what it is, a
terrific piece of braggadocio from October's Very Own. If Nothing
Was the Same-cut "Started
from the Bottom" was the arrival-announcement, then "Draft
Day" is the all-out celebration that swiftly follows. The type of party
where "brunch with some Qatar royals" serves as an appetizer. A
full-blown bash where raw oysters are commonplace and someone's on dessert duty
if you happen to have a sweet-tooth. But instead of dwelling on any opulent
detail for too long, Drizzy cycles through at least "eight flows."
All of the riches are a terrific reward, though he's far more concerned with
procedure. While The Fam's soulful beat booms through a luxury-suite living
room, Drake is cooped up in a side-room working on his art. "You know I
had to do it for ya," he repeatedly insists in the intro. For all the
individuals he addresses in "Draft Day" that declaration is aimed at
himself.
