All That Glitters: We've Ruined Drake
Even for Drake superfans, Titles Ruin Everything—the rapper's co-written book of poetry—reads like a vapid testament to the price of a fame we're complicit in fabricating.
When Drake’s seventh studio album came out in 2022, the surprise release felt as room-temperature as the air leaking out of a dead balloon. The title? Honestly, Nevermind. It was, yeah—deflating. The refusal to title the album in a serious way and eschew the titling process altogether felt less like hipsterism and more like apathy. But Aubrey could easily hide one behind the other. The message was I’m above titles. Is it any surprise that the response to the album was deeply lukewarm? Yes, it was an EDM album that swerved hard from Drake’s traditional aesthetic, but everything about the toothless nature of the writing on that album was telegraphed right there in the title.
In his eagerness to avoid the trappings of a title, Drake played himself.
Now, in the year of our lord 2023, comes Drake’s book of poetry. Drake’s book of poetry. If I had read that line when I was still swooning on Take Care back in 2012, I might have died of the anticipation. Will the poems be about struggle, “Acura days,” making his Mama proud, pining for the one who got away, loneliness? Family? Stuff like this?
Know that I'm your sister's kid but it still don't explain the love that you have for me I remember sneaking in your pool after school dances Damn, your house felt like the Hamptons For all of my summer romances I never really had no one like you, man, this all new shit Made the world I know bigger Changed the way that I viewed it "Look What You've Done" (2012)
No. They will not be, and are not, like that. They are like this:
And what is the name of this tome? This book of poetry about which Drake wrote “I don’t know if I have ever wanted people to buy or support something more in my life”?
The Form & The Philosophy
You can’t even really be mad that the book exists from a capitalist standpoint: we go to books of poetry written by celebrities for many different reasons, including a desire to know them better, perhaps foolishly. And lots of people want to know more about Aubrey Drake Graham: the book is currently sold out online.
Drake ain’t James Franco, attempting to insinuate his celebrity into the literary scene itself. He chose his publisher wisely: Phaidon mainly publishes art books and, by their own description, “work[s] with the world’s most influential authors to produce innovative books on art, photography, design, architecture, fashion, food, and travel, and illustrated books for children.” Their concern is influence, period. Artists, not artistry.
Only someone as famous as Drake could publish a book with, essentially, no title and a subtitle that promises a “stream of consciousness.” Allen Ginsberg is credited with coining the phrase “first thought best thought,” which supposedly explains the Beat approach to writing. (Remember how the Beats have influenced every aspect of contemporary poetry, from its aesthetic to its cultural stereotype?) But that call to action, to create poetry that was raw and fresh and unlike the heavily artificed Modernist poems Ginsberg decried, allowed for ecstatic, taboo, and political utterances to be made.
For Drake, engaging in supposed “stream of consciousness” writing has resulted in sparse, minimal poems that are not at all interested in language and focus instead on the trappings of fame in almost-clever couplets.
The poems in this collection take several forms:
As an unbroken “stream of consciousness,” as the subtitle indicates
As two-line poems whose lines are either separated by the book’s spine (let’s call it a “spinebreak”)
As couplets that appear on one page, often set off by a blank page on the opposing side
Jack Kerouac this is not. Aram Saroyan this is not. Instead, what we have in Titles Ruin Everything is a collection that is unashamedly about style over substance. And only a man that society has made this famous could make (and sell out of) such a thing.
So, is it any good?
The Hits
There were a few (a very few) moments that I enjoyed in this collection. Here they are:
1. “Soundtrack”
This little spinebreak is the best in the book. There’s a turn, a genuine sense of surprise here. The bombastic first line is softened and undercut by the second line, which is dripping with the isolation of privilege. The juxtaposition is nice, accomplished, even. How I wish that more poems in the book were like this one: a door cracked open into a universe where Drake still remembers that he’s human.
2. “Career”
This one feels like a line from a Drake rap that I would enjoy hearing on a new song. It’s got that setup/knockdown cadence that we just eat up as listeners. Even if its arrogant, there’s a genuine note of emotion, there. It’s like “Soundtrack” but not quite as gutting: this one involves the audience less, as it’s directed at a “you” we can’t know or be.
The Miss Me With That Shit
On the other hand, the book is mostly very mediocre with some truly terrible moments throughout—moments that make me actually like Drake less. And as a diehard fan, that’s a tough thing to accomplish. But here we are.
1. “Karma”
Weak. Drake—come on, baby. This one is so anodyne that it reads like the most vapid Instagram poetry out there. And no hate to IG poetry: it has its place. But it mainly proceeds by making broad statements that are easily generalizable to large groups of people. It could be written by anyone and for anyone. That isn’t what makes art great. This is just a repetition of clichés.
2. “Two Types”
Bleh. I mean DJ Khaled is the worst of this kind of dude, but I expected better from Drake. More tact, or something? Even his filthiest lyrics are actually sexy, for the most part. This one isn’t witty or interesting. It’s just sophomoric, and I’m no prude. Next!
3. “My Talents”
This one has the precise cadence of a Drake lyric and relies heavily on an assonance that’s sort of pleasing. But damn, dude… I don’t know if this book is the place to assert your writing prowess. These? These couplets? These discarded rap lyrics? These… post-it notes from rich guy hell?
Last Thought, Best Thought
Titling a work is difficult. That’s what I tell my students, and it’s true: often we start with a title and write beneath its umbrella in a way that can be limiting. Sometimes the title is such a strong ballast for our words that we agonize about it so long we never even start writing.
My advice in these cases is to forgo a title altogether… but not forever.
Titles Ruin Everything is the ultimate placeholder title. It’s probably going to be my placeholder title for everything I ever have trouble titling from now on. But in the end, a placeholder title should be replaced with something else. The title is one last chance to articulate your overall thesis or point of view in a piece of writing, and even if you draft the title last, your reader encounters it first thing. And Drake missed that opportunity.
Maybe for all his insistence that his forthcoming album, For All the Dogs, is a companion to the book, it’s really the other way around (there’s a QR code announcing the album as page one of the book). It’s a genius revenue-generating marketing ploy to sell a $20 ad for an album that folks can keep on their bookshelves. I mean shit, I bought it. I made this little monster, and you did too.
There are, of course, other explanations.
When Certified Lover Boy dropped in 2021, I thought for sure we were in for an emotional record that knew how to be sexy and depressing at the same time, à la Take Care. I guess I’ve just never gotten over that album. But no: even though Drake had been shaving hearts into his hair and peppered the cover art with pregnant women emoji, CLB is desperate, angry, cheeky, violent, and confused. But it still slaps, if you ask me (I have an illness). Then came Honestly, Nevermind with more of the same. This trajectory is one of an artist whose success and fan base has outstripped his wildest dreams and finds himself with little to say about it anymore.
Is Drake bad with titles? Or is he inherently fearful of what they promise and his own responsibility to try to deliver?
‘let’s call it a “spinebreak”’ — I think you broke the book with that line.
Could “titles” in the title also refer to his titles? Best whatever, certified whatever.