He Said/She Said: Drake
Live Shot of last night's Drake show at the Erwin Center
By Luke Winkie and Zoe Cordes Selbin, 3:51PM, Tue. Feb. 28, 2012
On Monday, two writers of similar age but different genders were dispatched to the Frank Erwin Cernter to digest a two-hour performance by Drake, arguably the biggest pop star in America right now. Here's what they brought back.
Luke: Zoe doesn’t really look like a girl who’d be in love with Drake. She wears glasses, a nose ring, and flat-bottom sneakers. She generally spends her Fridays in sparsely-populated Red River shows, and she’s got a constant sneer pointed at all the everyday girls in their sparkle-blouses and ankle-destroying high-heels. Still, that doesn’t stop her from screaming when her favorite rapper removes his button-up to reveal a tank-top. This will probably be the only moment where there’s absolutely no difference between the bewildered, heart-earring 10-year-old next to us, deep in the clutches of her first concert experience and teenybopper crush, and an industry-hardened indie-rock chick. Drake knows no bounds.
Zoe: Sure, I may be in love with Drake, but he’s been so perfectly molded as a heartthrob. I’m buying in, but I’m conscious that I’m buying in. And I’ve got a sneaking suspicion that much of the audience had at least some self-awareness too. Drake is basically a caricature of a modern pop-rap star: borderline ridiculous commentary, sexed-up showmanship. But you want to buy into Drake, because he’s nice. He’s not aggressive, his outfits are clean-cut, and his chains are modest. He’s smooth, and unlike many rappers, he’s not afraid to exist beyond anger. His first hit, “Best I Ever Had,” was an unabashedly sweet love song. From his Degrassi days to absolute stardom, the guy has been branding himself well. You have fun with him, but your mom can approve.
Luke: As someone who doesn’t plan on seeing Justin Bieber, this will probably be my closest brush to Beatlemania. Like most of the non-date men in the audience, I was here “for the music, man,” which was totally competent. Through all of his sex symbolism, Drake remains an obsessively dedicated artist – a pitch-perfect band and an immaculately toned voice. He’s a critic’s pop-star, but you can’t help thinking that when he's onstage we’re the least of his worries. There were moments between songs where he'd emerge centerstage and stare into the distance, the entire Frank Erwin Center draped in an ear-devastating squeal. He sang “Marvins Room” so sweetly that, “I’ve had sex four times this week I’ll explain/having a hard time adjusting to fame,” made the girlies go wild. All the boyfriends just rolled their eyes.
Zoe: We’ve established it was a show for the ladies, although the dudes next to me certainly seemed stoked. However, I’ll return to those qualms. Because as great as the set was, I found a few things lacking. Like the production value of the show; the lights and screens were cool, but I expected a little more. Maybe some explosions? Some dancing? The screens were hardly utilized, the videos sub par. I want grandeur with all that swag. And where was “Best I Ever Had”? The set list was mostly full of hits, but it had some strange holes. At least he brought a live band. Guitar solos, piano, and big drums made the songs fuller and provided cool, live-only quirks that made the concert a lot more unique.
Luke: It’s funny how I write about pop music so seriously, yet it’s important to remember that this is intrinsically high school music, ballads of love and sex for a 21st century audience. Towards the end of the show Drake spent a solid 15 minutes shouting-out people out in the audience, a bulletpoint of the big-budget rap show. For a moment I was chastising the secretary who would feel so liberated by his brief attention, telling all her friends the next day. But then I thought he was looking at me and my heart skipped a beat. Maybe I forgot who I was for a second, but he must be doing something right.
Zoe: I knew Luke would swoon in the end. From start to finish, the show was pure entertainment. But I didn’t feel connected to it. The concert was enjoyable as a spectacle; but it didn’t feel like a show. It was absolutely excellent, it just wasn’t about appreciating music. Perhaps that’s what shows should be for most people; we don’t want the answer, we want an escape. “Club Paradise,” indeed.
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Alejandra Ramirez, July 21, 2016
Drake, Degrassi, Marvins Room, Club Paradise