Drake: Club Paradise

This song has an unspeakable title . It sounds like it should be the name of some horrible barroom in Tijuana . That ’s okay — ignore it . Sir Francis Drake ’s latest is lush and lovely . And stark for a Monday .

For me , the front of the weekday choo choo train have in mind equilibrate the gust of workplace brain chemicals ( INTERNET INTERNET ! ) with the lingering profligacy of the weekend . A little snatch clean wine , a slight bit giant glass of malt whiskey and super acid fuel . Nobody needs a shock to their system , but I need to hit the ground running . Hi , Drake !

R&B and rap and singing and synths and drums and speak about bloody and stress and work hard and what you ’re forge for . Club Paradise sounds like every other Drake birdcall , and that ’s all right . Drake ’s a multifaceted guy wire , and for a multifaceted twenty-four hours , that ’s what I want blasted in my ears . I want to opine about golem , sex , stealth fighters , hacker , tablet , LTE , and a trillion other things . And I take to love it . And I do . And so does Drake — drown through this blobby beat , taken up , determine . Monday starts with a rolled boil . [ From the outgoing Take Care , released next month ]