High Album Reviews: Scorpion Is The Sound of Drake’s Tears

Dear Drake, don’t release 25 song albums. Love, the world.

The word “Drake” is defined as “male duck.” The term actually originates from the Old English word “duce,” or diver. Even though their subspecies includes all waterfowl animals, such as geese and swans, they curiously don’t share a common ancestor. (It was after I’d already curated this portion of my essay on Drakes that I reread the email my editor sent and realized this story was supposed to be about the singer– not the soulless murder-beasts that infest our local parks.)

Never having hopped aboard the “Drake train,” I had no plans to listen to his newest album Scorpion. I knew the only way I was going to survive this gratuitous 25-track opus of love, deception, and (probably) tears was with a cornucopia of cannabis concentrates. I mean, what better way to understand one of Canada’s most successful exports than getting extremely high?

Track 1: “Survival”
“I been waiting on this…”
Yeah Drake we all are, I say sarcastically to myself while I take a dab of “Strawnanna” hash rosin, made by the Reserve– the product line made by the same people who used to own the Reserve OC in Santa Ana. The sticky sweet aroma surrounds the air, as Mr. Drake lets us know that this is “just an intro,” and to not let him get ahead of himself. I don’t even know what this means, but I should heed his warning because I’ve got twenty-four more tracks to go, and I’m feeling the effects. “Survival” is typical Drake (dare I say generic Drake?), warning us of an impending storm that never really arrives and listing his accomplishments.

Track 2: “Nonstop”
Tay Kieth produced this track, and it’s an example of Drake doing what he does best: Bringing his signature off beat flow over an obvious radio hit. There’s something about this track that still sounds like BlocBoy JB, and truthfully, I wish he would have released it as a single before his new album drops in the fall.

At this point, I switched from concentrates to my Rove vape pen for some relief after the dabs effects started to peak. Its calming waves helped to keep me focused on the marathon of madness ahead of me. Memphis rapper Mack Daddy Ju’s sample of “my head is spinning” is perfect for the hook and really explains my current mood while medicating roughly every two minutes.

Track 3: “Elevate”
This track is terrible. I can already see the viral videos of people singing this while squinting into the front-facing camera on their phones, feigning emotion. The metronome sound gives me anxiety and also makes me super hungry. Ok, maybe I’m projecting, and it’s the amount of THC I’ve consumed. Sadly, I didn’t plan ahead for this bump in the road, and I promised myself I would sit through this entire album without moving or going potty, so lunch will have to wait. The track fades, and so does my chances of eating 3 square meals today.

Track 4: “Emotionless”
Drake finally addresses the Pusha-T “incident,” and by this point, it’s clear he feels anything but emotionless. I like to picture him sitting on the edge of his bed, deep in thought, while a party rages downstairs that he threw for himself but has no desire to be a part of. I’m starting to feel sad for this millionaire, and I don’t like it.

Track 5: “God’s Plan”
I hate this song. I hate the video. I reach for the strawcanna and try and erase any memories of this suck-fest he disguised as a single.

Track 6: “I’m Upset”
Honestly, I really am upset. He must’ve chosen this track name knowing how agitated people would be by this point of the album. All I can think about at this point is escaping this prison I’ve created for myself. Drake’s verses ring in my ears, and my mouth is drier than the champagne he’s rapping about. Also, rhyming “hoe” with “know” is far from creative, smart or unique. Three-year-olds do it all day, why is this guy so rich?

Track 7: “8 out of 10”
This whole song sounds like Jay-Z. I’m starting to get really bored of Drake. Who the hell puts out a 25 track album? Who does he think he is, Led Zepplin?

Track 8: “Mob Ties”
Barf. I checked, and Drake has no known Mob ties, and Young Thug can’t even save this song. So I rolled a joint full of “Purple Frost” Medmen of Orange County was kind enough to gift me and prayed the Sativa gods had a plan to help me stay interested enough to finish what I’ve started.

Track 9: “Can’t Take A Joke”
There’s something to be said about filling an album with enough tracks to know you’ll break a record previously set by someone more talented. If I ever become President, my first agenda will be to erase this album and give the record back to Michael Jackson. I break my own rules and leave the room to use the loo as Drake (hopefully) realizes people can take jokes just fine, as long as they’re actually funny and don’t last two hours.

Track 10: “Sandra’s Rose”
It’s at this point that I abandon all hope, this album is garbage, and now I understand why the glaciers are melting. We deserve heatwaves, wars, and Drake. Even when talking about his mother, Drake still manages to make it about himself.

The rest of this album plays like this… God save the Queen, and us, too.

Track 11: “Talk Up”

Does anyone else think this is a Jay-Z song? It’s definitely a Jay-Z song.

Track 12: “Is There More”

Basically, this is track 9 with a different beat, and the answer is yes, Drake. There are still 13 more tracks. Fuck. 

Track 13: “Peak”

Drake threatens to “turn up” over a beat that makes me want to take a nap.

Track 14: “Summer Games”

I’m pretty sure this song was either: 
A) an unused track from the movie Drive.
B) Written by Adele.

Track 15: “Jaded”

Just skip this track. Drake mumbles and says “yuh” a lot.

Track 16: Nice for what
In a surprising turn of events, I actually like this song. It sounds like summer and isn’t as repetitive as the other obvious singles.

You might be thinking to yourself that I’ve forgotten about the nine other tracks but I assure you I have not. No album should be this long unless you’re Syd Barrett or in the band Parliament. There’s more than enough songs for radios to overplay all summer long so I allow myself to succumb to the effects of all my THC consumption as I slowly drift off and imagine a world where Aubrey stayed in a wheelchair in Canada instead of selling $200 sweaters with an owl on them. At least the cannabis made this jail sentence a bit easier.

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