How does Drake’s new album sound? It is mid-June, temperatures are high and Drake clearly wants to give us a shock. Honestly, Nevermind, his seventh surprise studio album is worth much less than Certified Lover Boy of 2021 , also because it was announced just six hours before its release. With few features and more musically cohesive than anything he has released in recent years, Drake once again immerses himself in the worlds of afrobeat and house music, as he has done in the past, but for almost an hour. whole instead of a couple of songs.
Despite being released alongside a cryptic rhyming letter (“I’m not a guy who forgives even when I try / My lust for revenge wins the game against my good side every single fucking time”), this album feels less gloomy than sound point of view compared to other recent projects. Produced by Black Coffee and with the participation of house and electronic music producers such as Gordo, Rampa and Alex Lustig, Honestly, Nevermind it’s … like Drake is dancing alone.
The record sounds less dull, but still contains a certain amount of loss and trauma. Dedicated to “our brother V” (the late Virgil Abloh), Drake’s latest record focuses not so much on sterile escapism as on acknowledging the hardships and setbacks that make it necessary. In the album he repeatedly refers to the current lawsuit against Young Thug and YSL, and there is no shortage of reflections on the breakup.
Here is what jumped at us when we first listened to Honestly, Nevermind.
Drake just wants to dance
Fans online have already compared Honestly, Nevermind to More Life 2017, Drake’s latest record that drew heavily from dancehall, house and afrobeat music. But that record (I mean the playlist) was more sonic, incorporating grime (No Long Talk, KMT), Atlanta rap (Portland) and R&B (Teenage Fever) in addition to the hip-swaying and head-nodding sounds of Madiba Riddim And Passionfruit.
Honestly, Nevermind stretch these last two tracks to a full 50 minute LP. Although Drake has often slow-cooked his emotions on record, this is his clearest entry into the canon of disco crying. In Massive reflects on mortality and loneliness with a piano and a voice that are heard. The lustful Calling My Name sounds briefly like a very heterosexual response to Teyana Taylor’s homage to the ballroom WTP. Even the darkest breaking songs, like Texts Go Green And A Keeperare accompanied by four-on-the-floor percussion, which gives the watered-down synths the necessary structure.