Musically he plays the part with his in house songwriting/producer collaborator Noah “40” Shebib providing a moody and contemplative background to whatever Drake want's to put out be it singing, rapping, talking or stuttering – all of which he does a lot of. Take Care is Drake throwing off all his fake Weezy swag and hoisting the Yeezy flag high (By the way, can we get rid of the whole shortened nickname thing please? You're f ucking rappers, not Teletubbies.), getting rid of the worst of his Thank Me Later cheesy party-isms and embracing his inner sensitive, drowning in pussy, emotional philosopher. For the sake of argument “probably” means “of-f ucking-course it did”. Following it up with a statement that matched his batsh it insane grandiose persona probably helped too. I guess you could blame it all on Kanye West's rambling mad streak of wearing his wrecked and engorged heart on his sleeve and eventually making one of the few true break up albums for the teeth grinding E-tard club generation. Drake still revels in the same kind of drama-laden story telling, but instead of the overacting and plastic jawlines he is the understanding thread of the common soul that lies within.
#Drake take care album review tv
The overinflated characterizations, the embellished emotional swings, the sex – they're all here, but where day time TV fails and Drake succeeds is in the humanity of it all.
The irony and the audacity to call out “soap opera” rappers when what he's given us with Take Care is exactly that. It's something about Drake's over-emotional sob story. What is it? The f uck if I know, per se, but it keeps on growing with every spin that I give the album. I probably have sat myself down around half a dozen times in an attempt to write something up for the latest Drake album, but there's something about Take Care that's making that impossible to do so.
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