http://sharpformen.com/2011/11/24/drake-and-the-glass-city/?sourcecat=21
Drake and the Glass City
On Toronto’s strange relationship with its biggest star.
By Rohan Joseph
Toronto’s skyline is defined by two things: the CN Tower – a monument to seeking recognition, and an abundance of condominiums. The condos seem to all be built from the same blueprint; endless rows of buildings and floor-to-ceiling windows tinted turquoise that reflect the sunset. The city’s waterfront is a wall of these living spaces, with cranes rising from the cracks between, devouring what last glimpses of sky remain. If we’re to believe everything we see and hear in music videos, Toronto’s most currently famous human export resides in one of these glass buildings and could walk onto the Rogers Centre turf as if the painfully obsolete stadium were his own backyard. The modernity of the city’s southern face, the illuminated panes, the clean, futuristic designs, make the backdrop for the city’s star: Drake.
If you are a Torontonian who has a problem with Drake being the city’s spokesman you’d be wise to not reveal your hometown to any American under the age of 30. The inevitable follow-up query to a “Where are you from?” that has been answered with “Toronto” is “You must love Drake right?” It isn’t even a proper question; it’s an assumption. The rapper/singer (let’s just call it pop star from here forward) is undoubtedly the city’s presiding representative. Drake may not be universally liked or respected but he is universally known. Last week he released his second album, “Take Care,” and the record sold nearly 700,000 copies in its first week.
There was a time when imagining Aubrey Graham as hip-hop’s biggest act was laughable. Graham first became known to audiences as a paraplegic character on the Canadian high school drama “Degrassi: The Next Generation.” I can recall a Kanye West concert at the Air Canada Center where Graham, then known as “the wheelchair kid,” was being pointed out in the crowd and mocked. I only relay this memory because Drake himself would like nothing more than having the whole story told; the jeers and doubts that he says make him stronger today. The 25-year old’s second record, “Take Care,” plays like a maudlin confessional of the trials of fame – wanting it, getting it, drinking to it, being hung-over from it. It’s a cohesive album that leaves nothing unrevealed, stripping the sheen off all the celebrity, especially the machismo of being a rap star. The honesty has worked for Drake. Beyond the sales, “Take Care” has been a resounding critical success. Writers have touted him as a leading voice for the self-aware social media generation, and the historical connection of Drake recording in the same Los Angeles studio that Marvin Gaye used to create his own revealing album “Here My Dear” has definitely helped.
Though we so often clamour for attention, Toronto has a habit of devouring local talent. We are a city of indifferent spectators and unimpressed judges who will stand still as a crowd while one of our own pours his heart out on stage. We’ll fold our arms until the U.S. acknowledges and validates a Toronto act. Drake was certainly no local champion before Lil’ Wayne flew him down south and suggested that he record the mixtape that would become the Grammy-nominated “So Far Gone.” Even after Drake became popular in the U.S. Torontonians were wary of aligning themselves with a pop star who was loved by teenage girls and disregarded by hip-hop purists. Drake was a star but his own city wasn’t sure if he was “cool” enough. A large part of hip-hop’s appeal is its outlaw edge and Drake had none.
Toronto is populated by 5 million people and is the 4th largest media market in North America. We are perpetually on the cusp of big city status, despite already being a big city. The reason for the city’s potential going unreached has been investigated by many. Stephen Marche wrote in an article about the city’s plight as a sports town for Grantland that this massive metropolis acts as if it were a small town, with a mayor more representative of a surrounding half-eaten donut than the actual core. This is all true. But, what has been sorely lacking is a story about the city that gains traction in the world beyond. So much of our perception of Chicago or Boston for example, is fuelled by books and movies – art that populates our mind with thoughts about cities we might have never visited. This is not to say that Toronto has not had its share of renowned musicians, authors and filmmakers but rarely does one of those artists produce a popular work that embodies the setting of the city (A short list of films set in Toronto: Videodrome, The Love Guru, Chloe, Strange Brew. So essentially we live in a techno-surrealist environment with drunks, adulterers and a washed-up Mike Myers.) From a broad platform, Drake is telling his Toronto story with an aesthetic that also fits the environment – he is creating a distinct sound for the city.
As Toronto strives to create its own identity amidst the glut of cold skyscrapers and construction sites, Drake tries to find a balance between his rap and his crooning, his partying and contemplation. Toronto is bright, modern and diverse but lacks the scene and history of other towns. Drake may not have toughness and street credibility (hip-hop’s old currency) but that is what makes him all the more representative of his place of origin. Toronto does not have anywhere near the crime and violence of, say, the South Side of Chicago and there is nothing close to the hip-hop history of New York here (spare Main Source). There is a West-Indian rap scene that was popularized by Kardinal Offishall, though that’s more a reflection of one culture than the entire community. Drake is the poster boy for the average Torontonian. He is an interracial man who is selfish, sensitive, hedonistic and self-conscious. He never sold drugs but he did worry about fitting in.
Drake’s perspective is that of the perpetual outsider. First he was a fatherless black kid in a Jewish neighbourhood, then he was a Jewish kid trying to fit in the black community and now he’s an introspective Canadian softy breaking into the hip-hop world. Drake’s ongoing fight for acceptance, starting in his own territory, is a lot like Toronto’s quest to sit at the “Big Boy Table” with New York, London and L.A. The tracks provided by Drake’s producer and friend Noah “40” Shebib are the beats of Fall and Winter, evoking both a nostalgia for 90s R&B sex jams and a minimalism that makes post-post-modern hipsters turn their heads. Each production sounds like a party in the apartment next door or the ringing from the club you just left – a faded noise of celebration. Drake and 40 could have made songs with harder beats and violent lyrics but that wouldn’t be Toronto. Boozy, melancholic musings made while watching the sunrise from the window of downtown condo? That’s Toronto.
What started as disbelief that “wheelchair Jimmy” could be at the top of the U.S. charts has turned into overwhelming support. There is no arguing Drake’s legitimacy as an artist now even if you aren’t a fan of his music. That legitimacy, that stamp of American approval, is something that Toronto (and Canada) craves from an entertainment perspective. Not since Vince Carter was half-amazing has Torontonian property been so acclaimed. (Vince was the original person you would be asked about if you told an American you were from Toronto). Even Drake’s moves as a music executive have been ambassadorial for the 416. Every summer he brings his October’s Very Own Festival to the Molson Amphitheatre; a concert featuring major Pop acts like Jay-Z, Eminem and Stevie Wonder. Drake has even managed to involve himself in the hip corners of the city; his sidekick singer The Weeknd is a creature from the dark underbelly of Toronto’s after-hours scene and Drake made an appearance on the sweaty dance floor of west side bass club WrongBar to perform a verse with electronic act SBTRKT (not from Toronto) last year. On “Take Care” Drake raps about having faked it until he made it but it is his honesty that has made him the true bard of Toronto. Drake, with all the excess aside, is an average man who fell into ridiculous success, trying to explain what life is like on the other side to the people he left behind. Drake is on the highest floor of one of those glass condos, staring out at the dawn of an overcast day with a drink in his hand, ruminating on what it all means and thriving off the energy of where he’s from. After listening to his most recent work, a triumph of fearless originality, the city should respond with pride.
Drake and the Glass City
On Toronto’s strange relationship with its biggest star.
By Rohan Joseph
Toronto’s skyline is defined by two things: the CN Tower – a monument to seeking recognition, and an abundance of condominiums. The condos seem to all be built from the same blueprint; endless rows of buildings and floor-to-ceiling windows tinted turquoise that reflect the sunset. The city’s waterfront is a wall of these living spaces, with cranes rising from the cracks between, devouring what last glimpses of sky remain. If we’re to believe everything we see and hear in music videos, Toronto’s most currently famous human export resides in one of these glass buildings and could walk onto the Rogers Centre turf as if the painfully obsolete stadium were his own backyard. The modernity of the city’s southern face, the illuminated panes, the clean, futuristic designs, make the backdrop for the city’s star: Drake.
If you are a Torontonian who has a problem with Drake being the city’s spokesman you’d be wise to not reveal your hometown to any American under the age of 30. The inevitable follow-up query to a “Where are you from?” that has been answered with “Toronto” is “You must love Drake right?” It isn’t even a proper question; it’s an assumption. The rapper/singer (let’s just call it pop star from here forward) is undoubtedly the city’s presiding representative. Drake may not be universally liked or respected but he is universally known. Last week he released his second album, “Take Care,” and the record sold nearly 700,000 copies in its first week.
There was a time when imagining Aubrey Graham as hip-hop’s biggest act was laughable. Graham first became known to audiences as a paraplegic character on the Canadian high school drama “Degrassi: The Next Generation.” I can recall a Kanye West concert at the Air Canada Center where Graham, then known as “the wheelchair kid,” was being pointed out in the crowd and mocked. I only relay this memory because Drake himself would like nothing more than having the whole story told; the jeers and doubts that he says make him stronger today. The 25-year old’s second record, “Take Care,” plays like a maudlin confessional of the trials of fame – wanting it, getting it, drinking to it, being hung-over from it. It’s a cohesive album that leaves nothing unrevealed, stripping the sheen off all the celebrity, especially the machismo of being a rap star. The honesty has worked for Drake. Beyond the sales, “Take Care” has been a resounding critical success. Writers have touted him as a leading voice for the self-aware social media generation, and the historical connection of Drake recording in the same Los Angeles studio that Marvin Gaye used to create his own revealing album “Here My Dear” has definitely helped.
Though we so often clamour for attention, Toronto has a habit of devouring local talent. We are a city of indifferent spectators and unimpressed judges who will stand still as a crowd while one of our own pours his heart out on stage. We’ll fold our arms until the U.S. acknowledges and validates a Toronto act. Drake was certainly no local champion before Lil’ Wayne flew him down south and suggested that he record the mixtape that would become the Grammy-nominated “So Far Gone.” Even after Drake became popular in the U.S. Torontonians were wary of aligning themselves with a pop star who was loved by teenage girls and disregarded by hip-hop purists. Drake was a star but his own city wasn’t sure if he was “cool” enough. A large part of hip-hop’s appeal is its outlaw edge and Drake had none.
Toronto is populated by 5 million people and is the 4th largest media market in North America. We are perpetually on the cusp of big city status, despite already being a big city. The reason for the city’s potential going unreached has been investigated by many. Stephen Marche wrote in an article about the city’s plight as a sports town for Grantland that this massive metropolis acts as if it were a small town, with a mayor more representative of a surrounding half-eaten donut than the actual core. This is all true. But, what has been sorely lacking is a story about the city that gains traction in the world beyond. So much of our perception of Chicago or Boston for example, is fuelled by books and movies – art that populates our mind with thoughts about cities we might have never visited. This is not to say that Toronto has not had its share of renowned musicians, authors and filmmakers but rarely does one of those artists produce a popular work that embodies the setting of the city (A short list of films set in Toronto: Videodrome, The Love Guru, Chloe, Strange Brew. So essentially we live in a techno-surrealist environment with drunks, adulterers and a washed-up Mike Myers.) From a broad platform, Drake is telling his Toronto story with an aesthetic that also fits the environment – he is creating a distinct sound for the city.
As Toronto strives to create its own identity amidst the glut of cold skyscrapers and construction sites, Drake tries to find a balance between his rap and his crooning, his partying and contemplation. Toronto is bright, modern and diverse but lacks the scene and history of other towns. Drake may not have toughness and street credibility (hip-hop’s old currency) but that is what makes him all the more representative of his place of origin. Toronto does not have anywhere near the crime and violence of, say, the South Side of Chicago and there is nothing close to the hip-hop history of New York here (spare Main Source). There is a West-Indian rap scene that was popularized by Kardinal Offishall, though that’s more a reflection of one culture than the entire community. Drake is the poster boy for the average Torontonian. He is an interracial man who is selfish, sensitive, hedonistic and self-conscious. He never sold drugs but he did worry about fitting in.
Drake’s perspective is that of the perpetual outsider. First he was a fatherless black kid in a Jewish neighbourhood, then he was a Jewish kid trying to fit in the black community and now he’s an introspective Canadian softy breaking into the hip-hop world. Drake’s ongoing fight for acceptance, starting in his own territory, is a lot like Toronto’s quest to sit at the “Big Boy Table” with New York, London and L.A. The tracks provided by Drake’s producer and friend Noah “40” Shebib are the beats of Fall and Winter, evoking both a nostalgia for 90s R&B sex jams and a minimalism that makes post-post-modern hipsters turn their heads. Each production sounds like a party in the apartment next door or the ringing from the club you just left – a faded noise of celebration. Drake and 40 could have made songs with harder beats and violent lyrics but that wouldn’t be Toronto. Boozy, melancholic musings made while watching the sunrise from the window of downtown condo? That’s Toronto.
What started as disbelief that “wheelchair Jimmy” could be at the top of the U.S. charts has turned into overwhelming support. There is no arguing Drake’s legitimacy as an artist now even if you aren’t a fan of his music. That legitimacy, that stamp of American approval, is something that Toronto (and Canada) craves from an entertainment perspective. Not since Vince Carter was half-amazing has Torontonian property been so acclaimed. (Vince was the original person you would be asked about if you told an American you were from Toronto). Even Drake’s moves as a music executive have been ambassadorial for the 416. Every summer he brings his October’s Very Own Festival to the Molson Amphitheatre; a concert featuring major Pop acts like Jay-Z, Eminem and Stevie Wonder. Drake has even managed to involve himself in the hip corners of the city; his sidekick singer The Weeknd is a creature from the dark underbelly of Toronto’s after-hours scene and Drake made an appearance on the sweaty dance floor of west side bass club WrongBar to perform a verse with electronic act SBTRKT (not from Toronto) last year. On “Take Care” Drake raps about having faked it until he made it but it is his honesty that has made him the true bard of Toronto. Drake, with all the excess aside, is an average man who fell into ridiculous success, trying to explain what life is like on the other side to the people he left behind. Drake is on the highest floor of one of those glass condos, staring out at the dawn of an overcast day with a drink in his hand, ruminating on what it all means and thriving off the energy of where he’s from. After listening to his most recent work, a triumph of fearless originality, the city should respond with pride.
