It’s been over a year since the release of Drake’s debut album Thank Me Later, and yet fans have been awaiting his sophomore effort, Take Care, like Knicks fans are the end of the NBA lockout — so much so that many people reading this have already heard the album, which leaked online last Sunday, in its entirety.
Now, Take Care isn’t so much a departure from its predecessor as much as it is a fuller and more complete counterpart. The album picks up right where Drake’s last left off, with tales of drunken and debauched nights, countless partners, lost loves with torches that will no doubt burn for the entirety of Drake’s career, misgivings about leaving school, boastful one-liners about his ascent to hip-hop stardom, and shout outs to his crew/hometown. With that said, Take Care may be everything fans have been waiting for and more. It is a cohesive album that marks an artist who has truly found both his sound — the production on this album is unparalleled — and his voice.
“Headlines,” the first single off of the album, produced by Boi-1da, moves to the drummer-boy sound that has become commonplace in today’s rap game, while still sounding fresh. Drake’s ability to craft simple hooks that still manage to evoke the much larger themes of his songs is a skill other artists should take note of. When Drake sings the words “they know,” he is speaking to both fans and detractors alike, letting them know that he is aware of how great they think his music is. It would be an exercise in futility to argue the opposite.
On “Lord Knows,” Drake enlists the help of producer Just Blaze and everyone’s favorite correctional officer turned rapper, Rick Ross. Blaze’s production is sublime, with the sped up vocal sample and the looping of piano keys adding soul to the highly theatrical arrangement. Drake also showcases his lyrical ability on this track, rhyming, “In this bitch all drinks on the house like Snoopy/That’s why all the real soldiers salute me.” Ross however, despite his physical girth and infamous bellow, adds nothing of import to this song. His verse begins with a metaphor that invokes imagery of him fornicating with a pen. Unfortunately, that affair spawns a verse that should’ve been aborted.
The other single, “Marvin’s Room,” is perhaps the most poignant song on the album, sounding like a confessional drunk dial that carries on, like all drunk dials, with repetition of the same despairing words in hopes of coaxing some affection from the person on the other end of the phone.
The only glaringly obvious negative concerning the album is that some features often detract from the resonance Drake’s candid verses and hooks. On “Make Me Proud,” Drake affectionately professes his love for the opposite sex, only to be undermined by the grating vocal inflections of Nicki Minaj. The same is true on “HYFR” (one of the many acronyms Drake will popularize this year), which finds the “goblin” MC, Lil Wayne, straining his syrup-coated psyche for overwrought metaphors (“met a female dragon/had a fire conversation”).
After several listens the sheer amount braggadocio on Take Care can grow wearisome, though, with an artist this self-aware, this emotionally naked, it’s more than forgivable. Some might argue that the raw emotion he brandishes is a carefully constructed facade. Whether or not that’s the case, rap would be better off if this is what emotional transparency sounded like. While listeners are sure to find a little less common ground on Drake’s new album, it is still cathartic to drown in his decadent despair right along with him.
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