The Ultimate Drake Review: For All The Dogs (2023)
Is Drake still Drake?
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When Drake announced his 8th solo album, For All the Dogs (2023) earlier this year, the world was both shocked and excited. Unanimously, we all thought, “You’re going to give us more music?” However, none of us complained. It’s always a special occasion when a great artist decides to share their gift. Hip-Hop is also in a weird place. There are lingering questions as to what will happen when Drake, Kendrick Lamar, and J.Cole decide to step away from the game, and who will lead the culture in their absence. So for as long as I can, I will anticipate a new release from Drake. I know this won’t last forever.
Over the last few years, Drake has had an unprecedented run at robust creativity and pure dominance, almost releasing an album every year since he first arrived on the mainstream scene. In 2020, the rap superstar released Dark Lane Demo Tapes (2020), a solid collection of offerings which had the COVID-19 pandemic not historically derailed the entertainment business like it did, a lot of those songs, such as the brooding and melodic “Chicago Freestyle,” and the reflective open-letter to maturing in Hip-Hop, “When to Say When” would have been on his 2021 solo album Certified Lover Boy (2021). Though just a collection of music with no coherent theme, Dark Lane Demo Tapes (2020) is well put together and sonically sharp.
Certified Lover Boy (2021) is Drake displaying a mastery over the style he popularized with So Far Gone (2009), a style that not many can do well, let alone do at all. Fans often sight rappers like 50 Cent, Ja-Rule, or even Kanye West for being some of the first rappers who harmonized on rap records, but with Drake it’s just different and we have to acknowledge the distinction. With Drake, it was never the fact that he sung, but it was that he sung what he could’ve rapped. It became apparent that only Drake possessed the ability to put melody to words that are so clever and witty that he might as well have rapped them. He didn’t just play with melody on a hook or a bridge, he played with melody within his verses, often oscillating back and forth between both skillsets in a single song in a way that was never jarring. The evolution of this unique skillset is obvious with songs like “Race My Mind,” “ Pipe Down,” “Fair Trade,” “TSU,” “Love All,” “In the Bible,” and “Papi’s Home,” where we see a Drake who can make these crooning records in his sleep but pack them with a depth that reveals what’s truly on his mind.
On the album’s introduction, “Champagne Poetry,” Drake says, “The pressure is weighing on me/career going great but now the rest of me is fading slowly/ My soulmate’s somewhere out in the world just waiting on me/ My chef got the recipe for disaster baking slowly/ My heart feels vacant and lonely.” I take these as profound insights into Drake’s inner world. This is a world that is increasing in vapidity and pressure and it seems only he feels it. I don’t want to beat a dead horse but I want to zoom in on another line on the album. On his song “Love All” with Jay-Z, Drake harmonizes, “Woke up one day and it was all on me/ If it comes down it’s gon ‘ fall on me/ Lotta ’42 on the flights I’m takin’/ Long way down from the heights I’m chasin’.” As I listened to that album initially and still listen, I feel that even Drake knows that he himself is too good at this style and uses it well to slip in and out of communicating his sadness. Drake has become a master at his craft. When it comes to this style of music making, there isn’t even a rapper in second place, which has never been the case in the history of rap music. Usually, the culture can spot an incumbent, but for Drake, there is no heir.
Even for his standards, Drake followed up Certified Lover Boy (2021) relatively quickly, releasing a surprise album called Honestly, Nevermind (2022).
Drake experiences what very few artists do. There is always an expectation of the kind of album people believe he should make, so when Drake announced this album suddenly people went back to the past to prepare themselves for what it could sound like. For many, the surprise announcement of Honestly, Nevermind (2022), gave flashbacks to If You’re Reading This It’s Too Late (2014), which Drake dropped without warning following the positive reception of his third full length solo album Nothing Was The Same (2013). Upon hearing If You’re Reading This It’s Too Late (2014) for the first time, it was a massive departure from his sound. The beats were more aggressive as was Drake’s delivery and lyrics. The first 7-songs (“Legend,” “Know Yourself,” “Energy,” “Madonna,” “10 Bands,” “No Tellin,” “6-God,”) are an amazing stretch of rap music that can be compared to any 7-song stretch in rap history and if Drake would’ve decided to end the album after 6-God, the mission would’ve been accomplished. He would’ve proved his point.
His flow and performance on those songs are as if he realized he was the greatest rapper alive at that point in time, while also sounding like a man tired of being called soft, so he responded with pure venom on the album’s top half and attacked the industry for doubting his journey. Drake rode the cinematic production on that album in ways that we had never heard him attempt until then, adopting the melodic cadence of swag-rap but with a way mightier pen. There was no song in the culture that had the rhythm, vocal clarity and catchy lyrical focus of “Energy.” “Know Yourself” became a haunting anthem, making everyone wonder what a “woe” actually was and birthed the nickname of “The Six” for Toronto that somehow stuck. But through all of the tough raps, Drake goes onto deliver a record like “Jungle,” a vulnerable ballad that many fans still tout as the album’s best cut. The album also contains a fan-favorite of his timestamp series, “6PM in New York,” where he famously dissed Tyga for dating an underaged Kylie Jenner.
If You’re Reading This It’s Too Late (2014) was a massive departure from his normal sonic milieu, which is why I believe it was important for him to make it. He had to challenge himself as an artist. How could he separate himself from the pack? Honestly, Nevermind (2022) was no different. The jersey club and house inspired album brought people pause, making fans wonder why the biggest rapper in the world was making “techno.” Fans expected, and perhaps even desired an If You’re Reading This It’s Too Late (2014) part two, an offering with new flows and a hunger for respect. I have my conspiracy theories as to why he chose this direction with Honestly, Nevermind (2022), but that’s for a different day. Shockingly enough, even this sound Drake does phenomenally well, evolving his song writing and stretching his vocal performances across extremely nuanced production. The production never gets the better of Drake, which can often happen when a rapper departs from traditional Hip-Hop sounds. Truthfully, it’s impossible not to be impressed by Drake’s pen and voice when you hear a song like “Currents,” “Massive,” “Calling My Name,” “Ties that Bind,” and “Liability.” The central theme of the project is love and its absence, as he comes to grips with the fact that the love he believed was real is a more of a dream state. He thought he was finally in love, but he’s “Falling Back” as the album’s opener suggests. When I hear Honestly, Nevermind (2022), I hear a Drake who is trying to widen the gap between himself and the field again, crafting the perfect project to communicate to everyone that there is no rapper dead or alive besides him that can pull this album off.
Drake tagged the end of Honestly, Nevermind (2022) with the 21 Savage featured record “Jimmy Cooks.” Savage was the only feature on the record. The song is a traditional rap song, the kind of record fans hoped the entire album would’ve contained. The record opens with Drake saying, “They need me to go but I don’t want to leave,” which was a very telling line. The “they” could be a reference to his contemporaries, as his dominance in Hip-Hop is all-encompassing or maybe his loved ones who just want to spend more time with him. Whenever Drake releases, he absorbs all of the oxygen in the music industry, leaving very little room for discourse for anything but Drake’s music. I can only imagine what it feels like for him and the people around him. “Jimmy Cooks” was such an engaging record when contrasted against the rest of the soundscape on Honestly, Nevermind (2022) fans clamored for a collaboration album between 21 and Drake. That is exactly what the duo gave, announcing their joint project during the music video for “Jimmy Cooks.” The two rappers put out Her Loss (2022), delivering on fan’s expectations. Some call it a classic rap collaboration, but only time will tell. It was reminiscent of Drake’s previous collaboration effort with Future, What A Time To Be Alive (2015), where the two artists executed a lyrical dance while fusing their sounds and styles together perfectly to create incredibly unique music.
Her Loss (2022) had everything a Drake fan could ask for, feeling more like a Drake album featuring 21 Savage, as it is evident that Drake played point-guard and set up 21 Savage to be the best version of himself. Both artists have their stand out moments for sure and it’s not a Drake release if there is not an accompanying meme. “Rich Flex” birthed a handful of comedic moments, but I think it’s an example of how much of a gravitational figure Drake is, where simply introducing his friend theatrically on a record engages listeners. The album has an incredible appearance of rapping Drake. “Middle of the Ocean” is the Drake cut where we get a glimpse of some of Drake’s best bars. That is a Drake using the fullness of his lyrical super powers, reflecting on his journey but deeply aware of his status. On the record he says, “Treat me like a newborn, Lucian not droppin’ me.”Her Loss (2022) was a revelation. Showing a dexterous Drake that is open to unleashing new flows on songs like “Jumbotron Shit Poppin” or “Pussy and Millions.” The effort to deliver something refreshing to the rap game or something at all is evident and he addresses that point to the field, when on “Privileged Rappers,” he says , “I hate a privileged rapper that ain’t had a hit since he signed (let’s do it)/ Be full of excuses, act like they takin’ they time (for real, for real).” This is a direct call out to the music industry as Drake is always the most active of his class with the most hit records. He’s wondering what is their excuse for absence. He releases more quality music than his rivals J.Cole and Kendrick Lamar as well as some of the others in his group like Meek Mill, ASAP Rocky, Big Sean, and Wale.
All of the releases in the last few years, display exactly what is on Drake’s mind when leading up to For All the Dogs (2023): dominance, true love, legacy, respect, and the stress of being the guy responsible for everyone’s wellbeing.
Drake announced during his Sirius XM radio show, “Table for One,” that he would be taking a break from dropping music after the release of For All the Dogs (2023). He sighted health issues as the reason behind the break, but regardless, the break is well-deserved.
The reception to this album online has been interesting to watch unfold. There is a group who love this album and a group who hate it. From a birds-eye-view, this looks like a generational divide, as Gen-Z and millennials find solace in Drake’s vulnerability and intensity, while Gen-X hates the content and experimental production. Critics have used this album as a way to malign the personal choices of Drake the man, saying he is resisting the inclination to grow up. The dissatisfied bunch desire a Drake who raps, first and foremost, wanting no singing or as little singing as possible. Then, they want him to rap about the healthier things in his life: fatherhood, marriage, business strategies, being a dutiful son, etc. They sight his immaturity as a flaw of the project, but to those critiques I ask are they as mature as they desire Drake to be? And if not, why want Drake to be it before them? Regardless, the reasons rap purists don’t like this album seems familiar: Drake sings too much.
From the opening track, “Virginia Beach,” we get a peek at just what kind of project this is going to be. Sampling Frank Ocean’s almost apocryphal “Wiseman,” Drake delivers an incredibly engaging and lively introduction. He writes from a pain of wanting to be seen as a normal man, not as a gateway to status, where he says, “That’s not love you’re in, it’s more like compromisin’/I move mountains for you, fuck that social climbin’/Lean into me/Lean into me.” Drake is reflecting on a woman who he wishes would’ve just leaned into him as person. Lean into him, invest into him, don’t hold back. He adds, “You put some pain in me, I wanna get back to the major league/She wanna grab on the throttle, I want to get back in the driver’s seat.” Something about this woman was real for Drake and at a point the love felt true but he lost control. Somehow she started driving. The relationship changes to become a typical one for him, where his money and influence overcomes genuine love, which breaks his heart somewhat. As the album progresses, we see that Drake doesn’t absolve himself from the deterioration of that relationship or others either.
This isn’t the first time that Drake opened an album with singing by the way. Some of his best albums begin with setting the tone melodically. His transcendant album Views (2016) begins with a theatrical overture “Keep the Family Close” and If You’re Reading This It’s Too Late (2014) opens with “Legend” and So Far Gone (2009) has “Houstanlantavegas” as the starter. My point is, Drake is not new to starting a body of work by displaying his songwriting ability and “Virginia Beach” is the best of the bunch, cementing the project’s theme better than previous melodic introductions.
There seems to be an intention to purposefully misunderstand Drake’s approach with this album, starting with the title and its connection to the music. For some fans, they thought For All The Dogs (2023) would be Drake’s coveted full rap album, replete with Alchemist and Hit-Boy production from track one to twelve. That was a wish deriving from the subconscious because everyone knows Drake could create a pure rap album and do it phenomenally, and those who want that from Drake constantly wonder why he continues to refuse.
Primarily, the album is Drake reflecting on his life as a bachelor or “dog,” declaring that the other bachelors having similar experiences to him trying to balance love and career will relate. If no one in music is going to talk about the state of dating right now for men (his dogs), he will. He is also self-aware enough to say, “I am not having too much fun doing this. I want more.” This album in part feels like a dedication to his athlete, influencer, and rapper friends as he is functioning as their mouthpiece. All famous men do what Drake is communicating on this album. Even some of the married ones. He speaks for those blessed and cursed with status, acknowledging on the behalf of all of them, that it is next to impossible to find true love so they use sex to pass the time.
He wants more from these relationships with women, so much so that he might be forcing it. The nuance of the project comes on the records where he reveals his true feelings, and we can see how bad he is at being a dog because he gets attached to certain women and is truly a lover boy. On “Amen” with Teezo Touchdown, Drake admits he’s not a perfect partner. He can’t resist all the women throwing himself at him, but seeks forgiveness for his unfaithful ways by taking care of women financially. It’s a mental loop that Drake is trapped within and hopes to break.
We listen to music, watch film, or read books to experience what’s on an artists mind. What is evident is, Drake is saying he’s the problem too on this album. He’s not absolving himself at all and almost refuses absolution. He’s admitting to his brokenness without him saying, “I should stop using money for love and having all this sex with multiple women and expect the one I really want to be loyal to me.” He’s conflicted, realizing that him being Drake will forever jade his approach to love. He’s trying to be a dog and have sex with all these women but he really desires intimacy. I wish he would’ve kept the dramatic yet honest “Search and Rescue” on the album to nail that thematic point home, but I think it’s still there. However, even on “Polar Opposites” you get a conclusion that the problems in his relationship was due to an issue his money or even his half-hearted attempt at empathy couldn’t solve, which is the final lesson he must learn as a man. He can’t take care of everyone.
The fact he’s writing to tell these stories means he’s trying to problem solve them internally as well. People want him to say it outright but the message is in the music if you just listen. Good art is like having a conversation with the artist.
The main character of this album is Drake but it is also his experiences with a particular feminine archetype. Some Jungians might call the archetype Drake is attracted to on the album, the “madonna” or “maiden,” but these women who inspired Drake to write this material are young, unruly, free, and hyper-sexual. Nothing encapsulates this like the skit stuck in the middle of “Calling For You,” where a woman is heard complaining about a flight and vacation. The girl ranting adds to the narrative Drake’s painting throughout an album about an ungrateful young lady who he’s done everything for yet she feels the opposite.
The vacation appears to be a recurring setting on the album and is talked about on the elegantly constructed “Bahamas Promises” and the somber “Polar Opposites.” The vacation is a key setting. Imagine the life of Drake over the last few years. Vacations are far and few between, so one being ruined will have a dynamic impact on his emotional state. He can’t fathom someone who he cares for and claims cares for him ruining his chance to finally relax.
The sonic pallet is well blended from track to track. This is the most thoughtful production I have heard this year, let alone from Drake. Every key and snare feels intentionally placed, and Drake finds himself floating in and out pockets with precision to get the best out of the music. The samples enhance the experience.
Where on Scorpion (2018), Drake would take a sample like Michael Jackson on “Don’t Matter To Me” and make it the co-star of the song, this time around Drake and team use the samples as members of the band.
Drake feels more like a conductor of an orchestra instead of just a rapper or singer, showing us his true vision as an artist. There’s a confidence in his vision that I don’t think has been allowed to flourish previously.
From the album’s opening with the aforementioned “Virginia Beach” all the way until the conclusion of “Slime You Out” featuring SZA, there isn’t a break in activity. We get the first break at the “Screw The World Interlude.”
Drake engages the listener with what is on his mind without telling a single lie, which is difficult to accomplish. He guides the listener through the experience with at least two songs connected sonically to each other at a time. As a writer, this feat is difficult because the fear of judgement is ever-present, but this album sounds like the first album in a long time where Drake does not care what people think about his unfiltered thoughts.
For example, his lines seemly addressed to Rihanna on “Fear of Heights” came as a surprise to some but this is an album about lost love. It also looks like he feels the need to address the internet speculation of him being broken hearted over her relationship with ASAP Rocky. If this was a younger Drake, perhaps he’d make an honest rap song about Rihanna in the style of “Too Much” or “From Time,” where he speaks on the pain of losing out on the potential love of his life with SZA or Adele on the hook, but that’s not this guy. This guy sees the jokes and memes and has been hardened by them. The production on the latter end of the song is intense and rage filled, giving fans a head banging anthem that feels like “Nonstop” for Gen-Z. “Daylight” works an extension of “Fear of Heights,” where Drake’s pen is so clinical he raps at a tempo we’ve never heard. If Drake is adopting a sound that is reserved for Ken Carson and Playboy Carti, he writes better than both of them so he will always deliver.
When there’s a feature on this album, they feel tactically placed, almost as if Drake calls an iso like a coach to give the feature time to shine. Whether it is J.Cole on “First Person Shooter” or Chief Keef on “All The Parties,” Drake clears the ground for the features to deliver their best without looming over the delivery.
The criticism of Drake being “carried” by features on this album, especially on “IDGAF” with the enigmatic Yeat or by the aforementioned J.Cole seems purposeful. Even as J.Cole addresses how fans pit Drake and J.Cole against one another on the record and says the two see each other as equals, fans still tried to compare them through their verses after hearing the record.
At the end of “First Person Shooter,” Drake returns for another round of venom toward the industry and fans, “Will they ever give me flowers? Well, of course not/ They don’t wanna have that talk cause it’s a sore spot.” Throughout this album, I notice a hyper self-aware and perhaps fed-up Drake, a person who knows his impact in the industry and his place among other rappers. He knows he might go down as the greatest ever, and raps like that title is in his reach. Even he realizes there will never be another him.
The discussion surrounding this album made me think about the reason we elevate the role of the artist in society and the purpose of the artistic review. Whenever I read a review of this album and I saw, “lacks passion,” “struggles to keep it interesting” or “sounds bored” I exit the review.
That’s a lie. For better or for worse, Drake went as left as he could on this album and he sounded energized as he did it, in a way that we haven’t heard in almost a decade. I appreciate Drake as an artist because he has never hid what’s on his mind in his music. We always know what Drake is thinking, which is a luxury. The day he stops rapping we will recognize the value in his unique habit of honesty.
I followed this album’s narrative journey. When an artist is writing, it’s important to not judge the writer for their honesty in order to properly digest the nuances given.
One of the most revealing moments on For All The Dogs (2023) is on “Away From Home,” where a sub-plot of Drake’s recent releases manifests itself. On the beautiful record, Drake decides to glide through aspects of his life story, recapping moments from his career in a refreshing way. Usually, he would deliver this type of record in a hookless song, where he just raps for 5-minutes, but he decided to attempt something new and it connects. He talks about growing up in Toronto, writing for Dr.Dre and getting let go, and losing a grammy to Esperanza Spaulding. But the most poignant moment is when he sings, “This don’t feel like home anymore/ It’s just walls, doors, and floors/that only I can afford/ remember when it used to mean more.” As the man is reminiscing about the journey, he is also living in a house that feels empty, juxtaposing his state of reflection. It’s hard to tell if reminiscing is a place of warmth for Drake or a sore spot. Does he cackle like villain at night, harboring the main value of his success as destroying the people who have doubted him and overcoming those odds? It’s almost as if his cold present snaps him out of his mental exploration. He’s wondering what was everything for if he feels empty at the current moment.
I listen to music in the hopes that the artist shares exactly what is on their mind, and being able to follow Drake’s career for all this time, I look forward to hearing what he is thinking about.
I just wonder what he will do next and what will happen when he decides to no longer do it anymore.
