470,000 Albums I’d Rather Buy Than Drake’s
Ah, Drake. The grown man who happily refers to himself as “Drizzy” and still somehow maintains some sense of dignity (although, in fairness, it’s probably better than the alternative – Aubrey – but that might not actually be fair to say, either). The world seemed to go crazy about the former Degrassi star as he came from nowhere (without any help from Lil Wayne or Jay-Z, of course) and skipped right through the usual formalities of the music industry to find his way to the top of “urban” charts everywhere.
What’s been specifically interesting about the kid from T Dot though, has been his musical evolution. Initially donned a rap star armed with a cadence quite precisely modeled after his main squeeze (one, Dwayne Michael Carter, Jr.), “Drizzy” has recently had some time to kiss and make up with his more estrogen-fueled fans, crooning at least as frequently as – if not more than – he’s rapped.
That’s not to be read too far into (it’s certainly no crime to show a soft side every once in a while, and I’m not expecting the kid to only slang heat rocks in a world where even Marshall Mathers feels the need to whine his way through every chorus), but I bring it up because reflecting on this path has recently made it clear to me why I’ve had a distaste for the guy for quite a while.
It’s not because I’m intrinsically opposed to his music (I don’t care for it, though), or because I’m holding some sort of grudge against Jimmy Brooks for pulling all the honeys from a wheelchair (he couldn’t get it up, anyway). Drake leaves a bad taste in my mouth because his popularity – all 470,000 first-week sales worth – is a reflection of how low our collective musical standards have become.
It wasn’t too long ago (or, maybe it was too long ago) that Drake wouldn’t have enjoyed the same success because the bar was at a much higher level. Case in point, the return of Ms. Lauryn Hill to the recent spotlight.
Much like Mr. Drizzle (er, Drizzy), Ms. Hill also forged her name as a primarily hard-nosed lyricist (one of very few successful females at the time, nonetheless, and arguably the best ever to do it) with a tinge for smoothing out melodies as a member of the Fugees. Her debut solo album though – again, much like the Canadian star’s – was full of crooning, and made a huge splash in many circles.
You see, The Miseducation of Lauryn Hill was a smashing success, and it enjoyed mass appeal, but not because it was a pop record – because it was powerful. Because people connected with Ms. Hill’s words and her emotions.
Lauryn Hill’s music resonated with people without being watered down. It wasn’t made to please top-40 radio. It was undeniably a soulful hip hop record created by a true artist who had something palpable to express. If nothing else, it’s probably evident by her extended absence following the release of what’s sure to be the magnum opus of her rather short, but brighter-than-any-bling-you-ever-seen career (perfection can be exhausting).
Miseducation was embraced nearly universally as a triumphant, sexy, opera-like masterpiece. Drake’s success has come, in large part, due to the same sort of cross-over appeal that boosted Hill’s work to the forefront of music in 1998. Fans of mainstream rap, pop and sing-songing alike joined forces to force Thank Me Later to the top of the sales charts last week – but, not because it resonated in the same way Hill’s record did.
Instead, it fared well because it was made to do so. Drake’s music was created as a product of an entertainer — not the art of an artist — and Drake’s album was constructed with a cross-over audience in mind. It was full of compromise and scatter-shot mediocrity – what today seems to be the trademark of a successful album.
The fact that Drake’s album was so successful bothers me – as someone in love with hip hop – because it marks such a far divergence from the days of Hill’s success. Four-hundred and seventy thousand copies of Thank Me Later says to me that dull, uninspiring music has become the norm, with rewards awaiting those who dare to sacrifice meaning for more reach.
What Lauryn Hill accomplished has been rarely duplicated, because few artists can speak so fluidly to so many people. But, what’s been left over is the idea — the ability for an artist to take over nearly every genre of radio with one album or one single — without the talent and without the message.
What’s left is Drake. A product of the entertainment industry created to conform and achieve mass appeal. A hollow clone of what existed. And that, my dear readers, is why I will never endorse or support an artist like Drake.
Oh, and, if you’re still waiting, I’d rather buy 470,000 copies of Lauryn Hill’s Miseducation — or, maybe The Roots’ How I Got Over — than Drake’s album.
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