By Isaac Boden

From the very first line of ‘Make Them Cry’, the first song on ICEMAN, I am already bored. Drake’s monotone voice, the same beat and flow we’ve already heard years upon years, it’s clear this man doesn’t change and will never.
Of the three albums Drake released on Friday, ICEMAN is the best one, but not only does it make the other two look worse in comparison, this one is still a low album from Drake and it reflects on the downward spiral his career is taking. The beats are so incredibly generic and while you can do a lot with generic, he sounds so forcefully self-pitying like a whiny brat, as if he’s trying to make it seem like he’ll “make everyone pay”, that “everyone betrayed him again”. On one hand, the situation Drake finds himself in in the rap industry is certainly a weak place, but then again, he’s far more exploitative than exploited.
However, not only has Drake not grown as an artist nor a person for the last 10 years, in this 3 album release, he’s trying to seem as if he’s aloof, as if he’s above all of the rightful hatred he received after the Kendrick beef. But we can’t forget that he’s not above this, he’s a culture vulture, exploitative of any artist he gets his hands on, misogynistic, a creep and no matter how good your music was, I won’t die on a hill for you.
The albums had some average songs like National Treasure, but these were low points compared to Drake’s better performances, classics like Best I Ever Had, Passionfruit, Headlines, Marvin’s Room and Nice For What. If you disagree with this selection, put your top 5 Drake songs in the comments.
To mention features, Future’s was dry, 21 Savage gave us his typical performance, but I do think Molly Santana tried her best. While I have to admit that the strategy of releasing two terrible albums so your actual new LP would seem good in comparison is a clever move, sadly he forgot that the plan required this project to be anything but abysmal. I’m just hoping that Fireman by Kendrick will be better.
With this three album release, the epitome of the post-consumerist music industry has finally arrived. Endless music with minimal editing to farm maximum engagement through anything but the music itself; a complete disregard for restraint, rewarded for doing so. Is there even an album hidden beneath the corny writing, sad Kendrick disses, and mindlessly repetitive production anymore? Who knows.