In many ways, it was a weekend like any other: 48 hours of dutifully monitoring social media, spreading celebrity gossip, and continued rumination on how best to deal with the very many betrayals committed against me in recent years. The only difference was I spent it with Drake. In fact, this weekend, it was mainly his turn to indulge in these activities, while I just listened in, desperately trying to find something interesting to say about his three (3) new albums.
After waking on Friday morning, I’d managed the rare achievement of going one full hour without checking my phone. When I eventually did, I was disturbed to find a message from my editor asking what I thought of “the new Drake.” Despite a series of promo stunts—including melting a confusing 25-foot ice sculpture in downtown Toronto and turning the CN Tower blue—I’d almost forgotten he was releasing his first solo record since 2023, and the first since he was very publicly accused of taking an inappropriate interest in minors last spring.
The first thing I noticed on checking the tracklist for ICEMAN was one called “Ran to Atlanta,” immediately recognizable as a reference to Kendrick Lamar’s May 2024 smash-hit diss “Not Like Us,” and a quick answer to the inevitable question of whether Drake would be addressing the pair’s rap battle, which culminated in his whole crew being labeled “certified pedophiles” and prompted Drake to take failed legal action against his own record label. (“Drake has never engaged in any acts that would require he be ‘placed on neighborhood watch.’”)
The next thing I noticed were two surprise albums, MAID OF HONOUR and HABIBTI, which meant that Drake was unloading a total of 43 new tracks upon the world. I readied myself to dive into two hours, 30 minutes, and 37 seconds of Drake complaining about things while also being horny, and was so distracted by the prospect that I forgot to add any seasoning to my eggs shakshuka. Before I’d heard as much as a single autotuned ad-lib, Drake and my editor had already conspired between them to ruin brunch. It was going to be a long weekend.
I put on ICEMAN for the first time while working out. It was easy to imagine that all the other gym rats had the same thing in their wireless headphones. This had probably been the case during “The Beef,” an argument between two middle-aged millionaires that ate up months of attention during 2024 and, looking back, now appears as one of the pettiest and most undignified episodes in musical history. I went into this first listen ready to hate—we live in tribal times, and I needed the record to be bad to justify my vehement support for Kendrick. It was one of those days where the weights felt extra heavy, and my morale was quickly overwhelmed by Drake’s army of pointless grievances, as well as the daunting prospect of the hours I’d have to commit to dissecting all the thinly veiled insults and double entendres he had managed to pack into three albums.
Once I had pumped myself up enough to face ICEMAN on its own terms, I encountered a version of Drake as lean and nasty as he’s ever been. Tracks like “Dust” and “Janice STFU” find him fresh off the V12, sounding like all the ridicule has only made him hungrier. “What Did I Miss” comes across as a victory lap for something, Drake so cocksure you almost forget he was the punchline of an entire Super Bowl halftime show.
There are plenty of lines aimed at Kendrick (not to mention A$AP Rocky, LeBron James, Rick Ross, J. Cole, and DJ Khaled), all of which would’ve landed harder two years ago. There are also moments where Drake feels close to his best; when he drops the “What is it? / The braids?” line on “Make Them Remember” I was instantly catapulted back to May 2024—but when I arrived, I had to ask myself why I cared about any of this in the first place. Just like Kendrick ruined the main thing that made him interesting in order to “defeat” Drake, I feel like I’ve become a less interesting person by making space in my head for this stuff (I never asked to know about Drake’s son “takin’ corner kicks in front of Luis Enrique at PSG”).
If I was worn out after ICEMAN and its endless litany of grudges, MAID OF HONOUR offered something of a pick-me-up, as I started to clear out the loft space on Saturday morning. (“Did you forget about back home?” Drake asks on the opening track “Hoe Phase”—well, clearly not.) There’s a wild energy to this “slutty house-meets-electro record” that makes it feel like a hyperreal workout VHS. The album’s centerpiece, “Cheetah Print,” comes dangerously close to being an actual comedy track, complete with a robot voice imploring you to “smack that ass.” The whole album is, however, too sleazy to ever register as truly joyful. Take “Amazing Shape,” which contains this particularly bleak bar: “You could make a deaf man hear out your side / You deserve more than two fingers inside.” Whoever she is, she sounds like a pretty persuasive woman, the kind Drake could’ve used on his legal team last year.
It wouldn’t be a Drake album if there weren’t plenty of moments where it sounds like his soul is about to be sucked apart by the hollowness of his nightcrawling lifestyle, and “BBW” duly delivers, his ego dissolving upon contact with the rumbling sub bass. If I were being generous, I could describe this record as something like “a softcore Yeezus for the Hinge generation,” but Drake never really risks enough to take you on a journey as a listener. So instead, I’d like to blame Drake for everything that went against me this weekend. The argument with my partner after she got back from the hairdresser (I noticed her highlights too much…); the angry Canada goose that attacked my dog; getting triggered by a list of the “best books ever;” Eurovision sucking; and, despite all my gym time, still not having visible abs.
At times of conflict, it’s unfortunate how much I remind myself of Drake: self-righteous, manipulative, perpetually stuck in sulk mode. This was ultimately how Kendrick won: by making Drake a crooning mascot for traits that we hate not just in others but also ourselves. I don’t think I’ve ever found Drake as relatable as I have on “White Bone”—after a whole weekend of breaking off what I was doing every few minutes to make notes about his music, I fully back his sentiment: “Someone please take my phone away from me.”
OTHER NEWS
- “Two dudes who are super grateful for their sobriety,” wrote Steve O from Jackass as he posted a photograph of himself with Marilyn Manson on Saturday. Glad getting clean hasn’t affected his judgment.
- Scottish comedian Limmy shared a photograph of someone who looks a lot like him peering out of a damaged building following a Ukrainian drone attack. Turns out hybrid warfare is surprisingly down to earth, and very funny.
- That’s Blaketheman1000 playing guitar on the new BB Trickz track “Lele”. What’s Spanish for sick licks?
PREDICTION OF THE WEEK
The looksmaxxing era comes to an end after TV execs commission a show called America’s Next Top Mogger featuring the chadded judge from Clavicular’s recent court case.
BRAND NEW SENTENCE
“Imagine if someone rushed up and shot [Baby Yoda] like Jack Ruby”
Follow Adam on Instagram @yungtolstoi
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