2/4 Shells from Michael Errigo
Released March 18, Drake’s More Life arrived right at the start of this university’s spring break. And for the playlist’s first half-dozen tracks, that timing feels right. Bouncy, enjoyable and certainly more positive than Views, the early going is perfect to pair with something tropical, whether it be a destination or just a beverage. Take this music somewhere warm, Drizzy seems to be saying. Or, better yet, let it take you.
But, in case you hadn’t heard, our man is from Toronto. And in the 6, heat doesn’t last for long. By track eight of this 22-song collection, it becomes unfortunately apparent that winter is coming.
Let’s start with the good, though, because apparently Drake needs the love. It’s within the confines of that early vibe that most of More Life‘s good is concentrated. The Jorja Smith duet “Get it Together” is exceptional, sneakily making a stronger case for itself as the album’s best track with each repeat play — much like “Too Good” did on Views. And that first minute of “Passionfruit”? Superb. Good enough, in fact, that I realize now I should’ve typed the first 100 words of this review, stopped suddenly and then ran that lead paragraph back just as an homage.
It’s not just the island vibes that carry these songs. There’s a sure sign of effort and innovation in all of them. Later in the album on songs such as “Gyalchester” and “Nothings Into Somethings,” we get a creeping sense of laziness, carried by themes we all associate with Mr. Graham. Suddenly we’re back in the land of ex-girlfriends, rich guilt and drunken musing. In this unflattering new light, everything looks uglier, including the clear attempts at globalization he makes on this album. At a certain point you can’t help asking yourself, “Wait, it’s weird when Drake raps in a fake accent, right? Like objectively strange. Right?”
The key to understanding More Life may just lie in its unique label as a playlist. What does that mean? Outside of its seamless transitions and the fact that one song doesn’t really belong to Drake at all (Sampha’s “4422”), it’s unclear what makes this a playlist instead of an album.
One theory could be built around the fact that there aren’t many clear hits present. Like its predecessor, this release is long and atmospheric, better for post-game soundtracking than headphone scrutiny. Calling it a playlist enforces the idea of letting the music play naturally, untouched, over the course of 81 minutes instead of picking it apart.
The other theory for the playlist label points to a bigger picture. One can’t help but think that maybe Drake was just hesitant to give this collection the label of “Drake album” and the expectations that come with that. Maybe he knows it’s not his best.
Because it certainly isn’t. And at 22 tracks, less than a year after his last work and at this height of his fame, More Life puzzles me. Like Views, it feels similar in nature to the quantity-first, quality-second approach of someone like Future instead of an artist with true tastemaker status and unquestionably grand ambition.
With More Life, the long, cold wait for a carefully crafted Drake album continues. At this point, it seems the question is if, not when, he returns to making music for a reason.
2.5/4 Shells from Casey Kammerle
Drake will go down as one of the greatest, most influential musical artists of all time. That’s not really debatable at this point.
But public opinion of Aubrey Graham has taken a noticeable turn for the worse after the disappointing What a Time to be Alive and the lackluster Views. The Canadian artist was in desperate need of a recovery project.
Cue More Life, a 22-track “playlist” — as Drake calls it — that is far more versatile and far less gloomy than its predecessor, Views.
The brilliance of More Life comes from its self-branding as a playlist. The 81-minute Views was largely criticized for being unnecessarily long and drawn-out, but at the same 81-minute run time, More Life manages to stay fresh throughout thanks to its ever-changing sound.
We journey from the soulful Nai Palm sample to introduce the playlist on “Free Smoke”; to the U.K. grime of Skepta and Giggs; to the tropical vibes on “Passionfruit”; to Travis Scott, Quavo, 2 Chainz and Young Thug rap features. It’s quite literally all over the map, and that musical diversity makes More Life so refreshing.
And before we label Drizzy a “culture vulture” for that corny Jamaican accent, let’s try to understand the influence Caribbean culture has on Drake’s Canadian homeland. Also, to say Drake is just now hopping on this Jamaican “ting” would be inaccurate. He’s been paying homage to the culture for years, as seen on his 2010 Jamaican-fused jam “Find Your Love.”
The playlist’s issue lies with our own conditioning to perceive Drake as a sad boy, locked inside Marvin’s Room with a bottle of Merlot, a Kleenex box and a full arsenal of ex-girls’ numbers, which is a fair stereotype after albums such as Take Care, Nothing Was the Same and Views.
At first, you wonder if the Toronto native and his melancholy voice can mesh with the more tropical and radiant beats heard on “Passionfruit,” “Madiba Riddim” and “Blem,” but the juxtaposition just works for the 6 God.
And as I alluded to earlier, Drake isn’t even the reason More Life is a success. Some of the playlist’s best moments come from its features: Skepta’s impressively tough “Skepta Interlude,” Sampha’s emotional vocals on “4422” and Young Thug’s oddly enunciated verse on “Sacrifices.” And let’s not forget Kanye’s soothing entrance on “Glow,” which flows perfectly after Sandi Graham’s concerned motherly message to conclude “Can’t Have Everything.”
More Life is yet another example of Drake’s ability to please the masses and successfully experiment with new sounds. And if we’re judging More Life under the assumption that Views was a disappointment — which I wholeheartedly disagree with — the playlist was a strategically light and vibrant rebound.
While More Life isn’t incredibly special, it’s enough to keep Drizzy in the limelight and add a few more jams to his discography. But thankfully, on the playlist’s final track, “Do Not Disturb,” Drake proclaims, “Maybe gettin’ back to my regular life will humble me/ I’ll be back 2018 to give you the summary.”
I’ll be waiting.
