Drake: MAID OF HONOUR

"Jamaican patois is back on the Popcaan dancehall cut "Amazing Shape," and while they've made better songs together before, the groove is smooth and he's got just the right amount of dick puns: "You could make a dead man rise," Drake sings, a little flat but still catchy. He found a new muse via his TikTok For You Page in viral rapper Stunna Sandy, who I never thought of as anything more than an Ice Spice variant, until "Outside Tweaking," where she sounds like a star flirting with Drake over the lush Jersey club breakdown like he's the middle-aged trick at the bar buying all her drinks."

"No idea why he's wailing over distorted guitars about his girl getting too fucked up and passing out on the bathroom floor on "Princess," like a 16-year-old with an XXXTentacion poster on his wall, but I take it as Drake putting his my dreams of being cool forever are slipping away anxieties on wax. I approve of dropping coming-of-age whinefests at almost 40."

"I won't even bother listing all of the producers on MAID OF HONOUR because it seems to have been made by an entire roster led by Gordo, but with so many contributors reinterpreting all of these regional dance trends, some of the sounds are flattened. The Brazilian funk of "Q&A" has none of the edge, sounding more like the sexy drill rip-offs; with his unlimited budgets, he could surely fly out DJ Ramon Sucesso or whoever and get the real thing. The same for the Chicago juke rap of "True Bestie," where the tempo feels far too slow."

"Surprisingly, that's not a bigger issue, for the most part, the beats scrap together samples and loose instrumental parts into collagist club beats that remind me of reading about the early '80s Miami park battles of Uncle Luke's Ghetto Style DJs. Back then, Luke's trick was stitching together elements of the music they sponged up all around South Florida into their mixes to try to shock the crowd: Latin music tempos, reggae basslines,"

Jamaican patois appears on a dancehall track with smooth groove and playful wordplay. A viral TikTok discovery becomes a new muse, and the resulting song blends flirtation with a lush club breakdown. Other tracks lean into distorted guitars and anxious coming-of-age themes, framed as worries about losing coolness. Production credits are extensive, with many contributors reinterpreting regional dance trends. Some sounds lose edge, such as Brazilian funk that feels like watered-down drill, and Chicago juke that moves too slowly. Despite these issues, many beats assemble samples and loose instrumental parts into club-ready collages reminiscent of early Miami park battle DJ techniques.

Read at Pitchfork