Drake’s problem is he can’t help himself. It’s right there on “CN Tower,” the first track $ome $exy $ongs 4 U, his new collaborative project PartyNextDoor. After musing on the color of the lights on the famous Toronto skyscraper one solemn evening (they’re red), he flips it into a familiar vignette. “Just like the text I sent you from the bed tonight/Read it ’cause I finally think I said things right,” he coos. Of course — and Drake should know this by now — if you have to send that text, chances are she’s already gone.
Yet, for the better part of the past two decades, Drake’s been trying to find just the right words, while his audience, from die-hard fans to the most casual of listeners, have lined up to hear his attempts. So, once more, Drizzy cycles through the tower’s color wheel of emotions. He’s “blue” about another failed romance. He sees “green” envy in the eyes of those who want to tear their love apart. It’s all good fun if a little sappy, which brings us right back to where we’ve been with Drake since before You-Know-Who dropped You-Know-What.
That feels like the purpose of this entire album — a clean, well-executed production of Drake’s signature product meant to push the plot along. A slick new offering from the embattled Drake Cinematic Universe.
This isn’t necessarily a bad thing. “CN Tower” is a fine song, and PartyNextDoor arrives toward the end and offers some vocal dynamism to the otherwise singular treacle in lovelorn Drizzy’s vocals. As a matter of fact, most of the songs on the album are quite good. It’s possibly the best Drake and PartyNextDoor have sounded since their peak in the mid-2010s. But there’s an elephant in the room that, while not unacknowledged — Drake delivers some expected tough talk on “Brian Steel” and “Gimme a Hug” — feels unexplored. Billed as an R&B album in time for Valentine’s Day, $ome $exy $ongs 4 U is the first official project, albeit a collab, from Drake after a year of basically the entire world dragging his name through the mud. It’s a savvy diversion, given it was only a few weeks ago that the entire country wondered if he’d get called a pedophile at the Super Bowl.
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Still, it feels like there’s a psychic blockage preventing obvious hits from landing. Take “Gimme a Hug,” where Drake addresses the past year’s rap beef. He offers up a genuinely funny jab when he raps about the many faces in hip-hop who wish to see him dead. “’Cause if I die, it’s these niggas that become the sole beneficiary,” he raps. “And what the fuck are they gon’ do with it?/Have the girls up at 29 on stage twerkin’ with a dictionary?”
Even the song’s central conceit, of a battle-worn Drizzy arriving at the strip club to lick his wounds, his chosen family of misfits and outcasts embracing him, feels like a worthy rejoinder to the moralistic tone of much of his opposition. The only pathway to enlightenment isn’t taking a tech bro Ayuhasca journey and vaguely confessing to all your sins on wax, no matter what hip-hop radio personalities tell you.
And yet, like the equally compelling “Nokia,” something just feels off. Even taking the beef aside, it feels like Drake is leaning perhaps too hard on his strengths, opting for safe bets at a time when risks come with a higher cost. It’s hard to say how much of this is his fault. Part of what made Kendrick’s disses so impressive is how thoroughly they dismantled Drake’s public image, so a global party anthem might still be out of reach while the dust settles. These are indeed good, on-target, swings, but it might take a second for Drake to have the world enraptured the way he used to. Maybe, as Drizzy says on “Gimme a Hug,” it’ll be a lit summer.
The good news is that $ome $exy $ongs seems to prove that Drake is far from a corpse. He was able to formidably recruit his OVO brethren PartyNextDoor for a record that, while not dazzling, feels like a strong showing from an artist who could very well be crashing out à la Kanye right now, given the level of public embarrassment he’s endured. At 21 songs, the album feels overwrought at times, and we could surely do without the just okay “Brian Steel,” or “Moth Balls.” The Ice Spice sampling “Glorious” feels like a loosie that would’ve gone viral in a parallel, beef-free timeline.
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Still, to both Party and Drake’s credit, they manage to make the record’s 74-minute runtime feel like far less, submerging you into a mood that pulls you in with repeat listens. Even left-field tracks like “Meet Your Padre,” featuring música mexicana artist Chino Pacas, have a way of lingering with you. It is easily among the best of Drake’s overtures into Latin music, and PND’s melodic delivery fits well alongside the sound that Pacas is quickly turning into a force within pop music.
Speaking of PartyNextDoor, who gets regrettably overshadowed on the project, the album’s highest points are when we’re transported to his distinct, moody ambiance. Even when he’s only marginally present, like on the excellent “Crying in Chanel,” his presence is felt. On “Deeper,” he takes center stage, delivering what feels like vintage PartyNextDoor, replete with soaring, spacious, and moody crooning about fucking some poor sap’s girlfriend, all the self-loathing therein oozing with the kind of electric sensuality that affairs are indeed built on.
While it might be too soon for a ubiquitous Drake hit, he remains the maestro of lonely, contemplative rides home. On album closer, “Greedy,” both Party and Drake deliver the kind of introspective anguish they’ve made careers on. Still, it’s on “Die Trying” where Drake shows the strongest signs of life. Over plucky acoustic guitar, he delivers what might easily become a sleeper hit, wrapping his lovelorn ethos in a vibe that feels genuinely refreshing. Here, the Drizzy that can’t help but send that text finds a way to connect to something deeper. I can’t vent to you through no text message and reply,” he sings. “I need to see you face to face / Gotta look you in the eye.” It’s a good start.
