Anybody unaware of Drake’s leaning towards assuming the role of the unabashed musical iconoclast is either being deliberately ignorant of the fact or flat-out in denial of the obvious. And in between breaking and setting new records with each album and with every single, who has a fair case against him? Never mind the numbers, he has the accolades, chart track record, and enough summer hits to probably feed listeners for the next decade. Surely, it is a fair appraisal to say that the Canadian superstar has earned enough bragging rights to exult himself in the pantheon of the global industry.
Surely.
The problem with the OVO founder isn’t whether he is fit to be seen as an impactful musician with a legacy to match, but his blatant disregard—or dare I say, disrespect—towards those that paved the way for him rather than paying proper homage. Aubrey Graham has always been quite the solipsistic motor mouth, and it is this pomp and the pep in his step that slung him to the summit of the game in the 2010s, thanks to a slew of chart-topping earworms either as a solo act or a feature—or as the one doing the featuring. For the most part, the arrogance was part of the package. He knew he was big. So did the world. As did the rest of his peers, the same ones who eventually turned on him in the Great Kendrick-Drake War of 2024. This knowledge was a wave he rode, and for a long while, it was part of the Drizzy charm.
Drake | SUPPLIED
Until it inflated his head to the size of the CN Tower he sits on top of on the cover of Views.
Somewhere down the line, Drake stopped giving props to the legends that came before him, and the theme shifted to him erecting his own monuments on top of the rubble of legacies that paved the way for his. That musical sacrilege started to corrupt his mindset and his way of relating to icons in a manner ghastly enough to make you gasp as though you were searching for the final breath. Exhibits of this behaviour include him buying Michael Jackson’s bejewelled white glove and Tupac’s ring, before desecrating both by usurping them and making them a part of his own legacy rather than creating his own.
This iconoclastic behaviour might be given a pass as fair game in the hip-hop world, but in the realm of music as a whole, it is disrespect loaded with narcissism. More evidence of this can be heard in him throwing his toys out of the cot regarding his feelings about rapper and mogul Jay-Z, who, without a doubt, Drake must’ve felt betrayed by for Kendrick Lamar being given the Super Bowl after the beef. A weird thing in itself because Drake wouldn’t have passed up the chance had he emerged as the victor of the verbal joust. Nevertheless, Graham’s conduct has been largely steered by a particular self-centeredness typical of a superstar who knows he’s got it, and a man who understands that no matter how heavy a defeat he might weather, he will still do the numbers nonetheless.
Jay-Z | SUPPLIED
It is precisely because of this dilemma that Jay-Z’s Roots Picnic Freestyle is a timely response, because it was more than simply about giving a reply to the shots aimed at him. The freestyle was also about reaffirming the sanctity of the tradition of respecting the past greats, dead or alive, instead of Drake creating a stained-glass window of his own likeness using the pieces he broke from other artists’ works.
The Freestyle was a reminder to Drake that a pecking order still existed and that no matter how high he believed he was or thought he could fly, there were still clouds high up that shared a chuckle whenever they watched him attempt to flap his wings in pursuit of them—clouds the likes of Jay lounged in for nothing but leisure.
And Drake is likely to respond to the Freestyle, but it will probably not be with any mindful introspection, but the wounded pride of a lion who feels the need to let out a roar to show how powerful he really is, rather than to affirm the relevance of his existence. This is the tightrope Aubrey ought to be careful of traversing.
One mistake, one wrong song, one mistimed stroke and the shaky legacy he has worked so hard to put together by pillaging the graves of musicians no longer alive to defend themselves will suffer the same fate. Only difference is that the worth of his name will be looted in front of his eyes, as was the case when everybody was chanting “a minor” every single time “Not Like Us” played, from stadiums to the Grammy Awards.
