Drake’s new debut has a bipolar vibe

It’s probably not too much of a stretch to say that Drake has had a pretty hectic year.

It does indeed seem like an eternity since a fairly successful Canadian rapper released a mixtape that featured a little song called “Best I Ever Had,” rocketing the aforementioned rapper into the upper echelons of the hip-hop community. At the very least, it’s hard to imagine Drake, born Aubrey Graham, toiling away on demos and on the set of Degrassi: The Next Generation now that he’s become a superstar, mugging it up in advertisements and rolling with Lil’ Wayne’s prodigious Young Money crew. Until now, followers of Drake from before and after his explosion on the scene have been left only to wonder about the particulars of his astronomical rise to stardom.

According to his new official debut album, Thank Me Later, things were confusing as hell. Unsurprisingly, it appears that issues arose from his drastic change in lifestyle — issues that subverted friendships, family ties and business relationships. Drake seems willing to reveal these hardships in clear-cut honesty, perhaps finding some solace in the relief afforded by owning up to personal shortcomings. And the songs that expose the rapper’s vulnerable side — the Aubrey Graham side of things, if you will — really work. It’s hard not to feel a twinge of heartache when you hear lines like I tried to keep us together, you were busy keeping secrets / Secrets you were telling everybody but me: Don’t be fooled by the money, I’m still young and unlucky, which he flows on “Karaoke.”

In some ways, the Aubrey Graham persona that Drake adopts here and there on the album is like the Kanye West that listeners heard in 2008’s 808s & Heartbreak: a man struggling to find good intention in an unforgiving landscape that more often than not rewards those who use their heads, not their hearts.

Thank Me Later’s first two tracks are quietly brilliant examples of this ethos — “Fireworks,” featuring a melancholy chorus showcasing Drake’s sweetly capable singing voice paired with Alicia Keys’ gorgeous alto, and the aforementioned “Karaoke,” a track undeniably reminiscent of something off West’s 808s in the best way possible. The tracks blend the struggle of a new life in the spotlight with the swagger of success in a perfect harmony, sounding somber but hopeful.

Then comes the third track, “The Resistance” and the album takes a turn for the — well, bipolar. As a listener, it’s hard to tell what Drake is trying to say in this song. Unlike with the previous tracks, which hit a logical balance between boasts and fears, “The Resistance” is sheer ambivalence in action. In one moment, he wallows in disappointment (I heard they just moved my grandmother to a nursing home / And I’ll be acting like I don’t know how to work a phone) and less than 10 lines later executes a 180 back to reaffirming how good he has it (Nothing really comes as a surprise right now / ’Cause we havin’ the time of our lives right now).

It’s this ambivalence that shows up around the album that keeps it from ever coalescing into a progressive album that makes sense. In one song Drake will brag about his multiple conquests while in another he takes the one-on-one romance up to 11. Somewhere else he’ll mention that he’s never going to change even with fame, even though earlier in the album he bemoaned how he treats people differently now. It all feels a little jumbled up — maybe the life Drake lived really was like this, but regardless it makes listening to Thank Me Later a two-faced experience. Maybe it is more than fitting that Drake changes his mind about the whole matter and, on the final track, asks that we “thank him now.”

It doesn’t help that the album is lacking at times from a musical standpoint. There are a few tracks with outstanding background compositions — the lead single “Over” is one such example, featuring a frenetically layered mix of crackling snare, bells, horns and a triumphant string section. The Kanye West-produced track “Find Your Love” is similarly successful in combining alluring synthesizers and piano with a driving, electro four-on-the-floor beat.

Drake demonstrates his uncanny abilities of wordplay and rhyme, especially when he mixes up the tempo of his words (“Show Me a Good Time”). However, too many of the songs slow down in legato orchestral compositions that all end up sounding similar in one way or another. This doesn’t necessarily mean that the songs are bad, but it does make the album tricky to sit through. The way that Drake raps can become a bother too — his constant-flow delivery of lines, dropping words like sixteenth notes, begins to sound machine-like after a while and become almost monotonous to listen to.

Yet, all is not lost. The album is an honest achievement and a work in transition for a young and developing artist, one that shows room for improvement but also displays tenacity and talent. There are a few gems on the record, and some well-timed and well-executed guest appearances turn otherwise merely decent pieces into worthwhile numbers (Nicki Minaj’s appearance on “Up All Night,” to name one).

Thank Me Later probably isn’t the best that Drake could’ve produced, but it’s definitely a good starting point. With a little luck, we actually will be thanking him later.