Listencloser
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There was a distinct moment during the OVO Fest set where things immediately flipped from corny but ultimately harmless to legitimately toxic: an unfunny, badly-edited image of a bride and groom, with Nicki’s head edited onto the man and Meek’s onto the woman. (#DrakeHive could stand to take a few notes from #FutureHive in terms of quality meme production.) It was gross, but not out of place with the general thrust of Drake’s disses: "Is that a world tour, or your girl’s tour?", he sneered on "Back to Back", before hitting Nicki with some patronizing advice. The hilarious joke, you see, is that Nicki is more successful than Meek, and thus is like the dude in the relationship. That’s a new one! Never mind the delusional mental gymnastics required for a guy who built an empire off projections of sensitivity and simpering anecdotes refusing to let go of a single hook-up of the past decade to declare "No woman ever had me star-struck." Never mind the years of lyrical and visual receipts of Drake’s shameless, performative thirst for the woman who gets dragged for everything he gets dapped for. (Or the fact that Nicki will probably never be a serious factor in the "best rapper alive" conversation, despite being on the opposite end of the ghostwriting conversation.) On a strictly human level, I don’t even know how to rationally approach the subject of throwing a longtime friend under the bus on this scale, underhanded misogyny aside.
Drake is the chilling logical extreme of the beta male’s triumph over the last decade: the ultimate evolution of the nerd turned jock, forever working every angle of his underdog status that may or may not have ever been merited but certainly isn’t anymore. At first, the rise of the Sensitive Bro felt like a corrective to the stifling macho-ness of traditional masculinity. But it has failed spectacularly, and we are left with Gamergate, Ariel Pink, and the Voice of a Generation, who goes through women’s phones when they’re in the bathroom, firmly believes in the concept of the "friend zone" at almost 30 years old, and surrounds himself with powerful women to sniff their hair until they become a legitimate threat to his own ego. Even "Hotline Bling", an admittedly dope "Cha Cha" flip that sees Drake returning to his sultrier side, reeks of the jealous, slut-shamey entitlement and boring "good girl vs. bad girl" compartmentalizing that’s colored his supposedly vulnerable ballads for years. None of this is new, and I probably should have picked up on it circa "Marvin’s Room". (Remember when Drake’s ex, featured on the track’s intro, tried to sue him?) That’s the thing about charged-up "nice guys," though: their manipulative strategy is surprisingly effective, because you don’t want to see it coming. I’ve fallen for enough scheming, overcompensating nerds who’ve used hoarded knowledge and projected empathy to distract from their terrible personalities to say this with authority.
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