He's had several chart hits while Thank Me Later–which features Alicia Keys, Jay-Z, Mary J Blige, Kanye, Timbaland and his mentor Lil Wayne–has polarised the critics to the extent that its release prompted the Village Voice to run an article entitled Why You Hate Drake, And Why You're Wrong About Hating Drake. In fact, as morose meditations on the miseries of fame go, it comes across like a rap version of Woody Allen's Stardust Memories or Deconstructing Harry.Īubrey Drake Graham doesn't mean much in the UK, managing only a miserable number 123 for his first single Best I Ever Had late last year, but in the States he's both cause celebre and bête noire. More heinous still, Thank Me Later is virtually a concept album about the loneliness and lovelessness of the successful celebrity, a sort of sequel to Kanye West's 808s and Heartbreak, only more audaciously dolorous because he's only just started. He's a handsome 23-year-old ex-actor from an affluent background who has effortlessly achieved even greater wealth via music that utterly refuses to flaunt its street-tough credentials. Drake is the Vampire Weekend of rap–he ticks all the wrong boxes, especially for a milieu that privileges poverty and strife.
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