Such open devilishness is, I canвЂ™t deny, fun. In the amusingly goofy вЂњPapiвЂ™s Home,вЂќ he offers this foulness: вЂњI remember that I told you I miss you, that was kinda like a mass text.вЂќ The fullest villainy unfurls on вЂњGet Along Better,вЂќ which opens with a tender verse about the sad way things ended with an ex, followed by a wolf howl of a chorus about Drake getting with her friend. Over an arrangement that gapes as darkly as a tar pit, Drake spends вЂњIn the BibleвЂќ touting his own body count while nagging a woman for her own. Heartbreak almost seems to bring him to an epiphany-but Drake instead clutches the toxic M-word like a safety blanket as he knowingly repeats old patterns. Read: Drake cements the GrammysвЂ™ irrelevance On the compellingly cranky вЂњPipe Down,вЂќ he seems genuinely bothered: вЂњYouвЂ™re the reason weвЂ™ll be going separate ways / YouвЂ™re the reason we cannot communicate.вЂќ

The glimmering highlight вЂњRace My MindвЂќ conveys molten longing as it describes falling for a flake.

What does stick out is the confession nestled in the otherwise celebratory opener, вЂњChampagne PoetryвЂќ: вЂњCareer is going great, but now the rest of me is fading slowly / My soul mate is somewhere out in the world just waiting on me вЂ¦ My heart feel vacant and lonely.вЂќ Drake has pined for true love throughout his catalog, but an ever-so-rawer feeling of desperation emerges on Certified Lover Boy. Two days into listening, nothing has me hitting repeat 72 times like вЂњNonstopвЂќ or вЂњControllaвЂќ did, but I also donвЂ™t hear many flagrant misses. Extremely familiar forays into bass-heavy brag rap, whooshing R&B, and Afrobeats break up the slog. As has been the case on DrakeвЂ™s full-length records since 2011вЂ™s Take Care, the main mode is spectral, echoing beatscapes that lurch and mutate, with long lulls occasionally jolted by action-movie synths. Though Drake and his producers emphasize lovey-dovey samples and lazily played piano this time out, this album could have arrived during Barack ObamaвЂ™s second term and no one would have felt future shock. Read: Pusha T, Drake, and the limits of rap beefД¬ertified Lover Boy pushes DrakeвЂ™s personal narrative ahead by about one yard, and his musical evolution even less. Anxieties about potential career decline peppered his lyrics, but DrakeвЂ™s quality level remained high enough, his personal drama remained rich enough, and his musical arsenal fresh enough-see the sugary New Orleans bounce of вЂњNice for What?вЂќ-for him to claim a five-album winning streak.

Yes, heвЂ™s recently done guest features and put out a lockdown mixtape last year, but he seemed to be stalling on answering the question he posed on his epic-length, smash-packed 2018 album, Scorpion: вЂњIs there more?вЂќ That album had arrived swathed in intrigue after a Pusha T dis track correctly accused Drake of having a child out of wedlock, and ScorpionвЂ™s songs defended against the вЂњdeadbeatвЂќ charge with jubilant singles and punchy verses. Across an un-dazzling hour and 26 minutes of music, the danger of having the language to talk about your own awfulness becomes clear: It can make you complacent.ДЄrriving eight months after its originally hyped release date, Certified Lover Boy ends an unusually quiet stretch for the prolific Drake. But these gestures turn out to be, in themselves, fuckboy manipulations of the listener, and theyвЂ™re echoed in the manipulations of women documented by the songs. Male pinup clichГ©s fill the music video for вЂњ Way 2 Sexy.вЂќ Drake himself used the term toxic masculinity in the album description. A constellation of pregnant ladies dots the cover. The most popular rapper of our time has always been a glorified pickup artist-he cajoles, then ghosts, then gloats-but his recent marketing suggests heightened self-awareness. The term is not exactly high-minded, but-like other recent coinages such as dadbod-it suggests that men are starting (starting!) to find out how it feels to be subjected to some of the sexual scrutiny women have long faced.ДЇuckboy now gets a Kidz BopвЂ“y translation with the title of DrakeвЂ™s sixth proper album, Certified Lover Boy. Fuckboy evolved from horrifying prison slang and rapper dis to become, in the age of online dating, a catchall for the category of horny, hollow, heartbreaking dudes so widely recognizable that it now anchors an HBO reality show. IвЂ™ll never forget when my middle-school social-studies teacher, introducing the class to the concept of sexism, filled the whiteboard with all the ugly words for female promiscuity- slut, whore, etc.-but could muster only praising ( stud) or outdated ( cad) terms for men. Maybe the rise of the term fuckboy to mock men who canвЂ™t keep their Dickies zipped is a sign of progress.

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