Drake Proves He Needs A Year Off On 'Scary Hours 3'

Drake has always been a little bit of a nerd. Beneath the protein shakes, the tough talk, and the alleged ab enhancement surgeries, there’s an obsessive rap fan who grew up lurking forums and pouring over lyrics, imitating the flows of his heroes like a kid playing dress-up.

But rap nerds haven’t always accepted Drake as one of their own, interrogating his authenticity at every turn, and not without good reason—more than a backpacker with an appreciation for a diversity of rap styles, he’s often rightfully just seen as a culture vulture.

Shortly after the release of For All The Dogs, Drake claimed he was taking a break from the music industry for “maybe a year or something,” due to lingering problems with his stomach. Of course, rappers tend to be notoriously noncommittal about retirement or time-off, and just a little over a month later, Aubrey returns with the third installment of his Scary Hours series.

The EP was announced with a melodramatically cinematic teaser trailer that immediately tries to rationalize and justify why he decided not to actually take a break. The fact that he has to explicitly tell us that “I feel so confident about the body of work that I just dropped that I know I could disappear,” as he claims in the brooding promo, just makes it seem like he’s not actually confident enough to disappear.

Though Scary Hours 3 is longer than its predecessors, almost nothing approaches the earworm potential of “God’s Plan” or the uncut menace of “Wants and Needs.” The EP comes with the unmistakable stench of streaming bait; Scary Hours 3 is not actually its own separate project, but comes stitched onto an expanded deluxe edition of For All The Dogs. Aside from juicing his Spotify numbers, Scary Hours 3 in many ways feels like a calculated attempt to court the kinds of devoted rap fans and hardcore backpackers that might have turned on Drake in the past, or that maybe never embraced him to begin with.

Since the tepid response to the emotional Ibiza vacation of Honestly, Nevermind, Drake has retreated back into more comfortable and familiar territory, returning to a tradition of straight-up rap songs that he seems to think his listeners want; here, he largely spits no-hook iPhone notes analogies over boom-bap beats.

Returning from For All the Dogs is Conductor Williams, one of Griselda’s central sonic architects, who supplies muted horns and jazzy piano riffs on “Stories About my Brother.” Then Drake supplies specific Reddit rap heads with a lab-designed dream collab on “Wick Man,” where the ever-prolific The Alchemist lays down some watery vintage synthesizer textures.

But the EP’s most unexpected beat placements are from Oakland’s ovrkast, on “Red Button” and “The Shoe Fits,” suggesting that Drake—or someone in Drake’s circle—is more tapped into the emerging underground than you might anticipate. It’s not just the beats themselves that gesture toward alternative rap stylings, but even Drake’s flow at times—on “The Shoe Fits,” he lays down a self-effacing hook with a slightly off-beat delivery that’s more reminiscent of a writerly iconoclast like R.A.P. Ferreira than the most famous rapper in the world: “To all the ladies wonderin’ why / Drake can’t rap like the same old guy / It’s cause I don’t know how anymore.” It’s the rare moment where Drake drops the armor to reveal the uncertainty of the mid-life crisis he’s desperate to mask.

The EP’s lone feature, from J. Cole on “Evil Ways,” indicates how we’re supposed to approach this manifestation of Drake: as a serious lyricist whose words intend to inspire deep reflection and analysis. But the strained wordplay and eye roll-inducing similes undercut any notion of Drake as a thoughtful writer, and overshadow the intricacies of his beat selections. The one track that sees Drake put aside the try-hard lyrical miracle aspirations is closer “You Broke My Heart,” the kind of triumphantly vindictive anthem that few artists can do better. Over sweeping strings, Drake slides into his falsetto croon, repeating “Fuck my ex” like an inspirational mantra.

While Scary Hours 3 intends to serve as evidence of Drake’s lyrical prowess and unchallenged dominance of the rap game, it only makes him look more desperate, as his inability to commit to stepping out of the limelight suggests an attention hog who feels uncomfortable if he’s not dominating the discourse, obsessed with shaping the public’s every perception of his image.

Even when he devolves into petty Drake, taking shots at strip club enthusiast James Harden, or re-microwaving his long spoiled beef with Pusha T, it comes off so attention-seeking and designed for discourse that it barely registers.

No matter what criticisms you make of him, Drake is always going to find a way to have the last word.