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Wherever Black people are subsisting, theres culture ways, wares, and wisdom exchanged.
New musical concepts blow in like developing storm systems, and vibrant art springs up in their wake.
You have to imagine Drake sees himself as one such traveler.
It all succeeds because Drake is monoculture.
Honestly, Nevermind, Drakes seventh album, released with little advance warning,seems designed to raise eyebrows.
But this time, the genre experiments that mightve peppered prior projects as garnishes are the main course.
Congolese Afropop star Tresor pitches in vocals, and EDM-trap producer Gordo (f.k.a.
But what makesHonestly, Nevermindfeel intimate can also make it feel sleepy.
Imagine all the tepid crossover attempts in store for us now.)
Stick with the album, and it rewards your attention.
Descending intoHonestly, Nevermindfeels like drawing a warm bubble bath.
The drums dont pop.
The vocals dont soar.
The synths dont stab.
Its a head massage.
Dance music doesnt have to always be brash, though.
It can sooth and smolder.
(Nightclubs need bangers, and so do retail shops, tanning salons, and doctors offices.)
Black artists should feel at ease traversing traditions.
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