In the “playlist,” then, the locus of Drake’s branded identity undergoes an epistemic shift. More Life had a relatively lengthy gestation period, arriving about three months after its initially speculated release date, and I get the sense that it’s more measured and crowd-sourced than either of Drake’s 2015 tapes - like, where’s “Sneakin’” at? - but its arrival as a “playlist” lends it less gravitas than the album-event, and offsets critical and commercial expectation somewhat (though, to be fair, he’s had no problem on either account). The lack of a real spectacle, as well as a performative quickness usually reserved for minor endeavors like freestyles or SoundCloud uploads, takes on its own critical edge, apropos of the rapid cultural flows facilitated by the internet. Yeezus proved it, IYRTITL and WATTBA proved it. Then again, as someone of Drake’s stature intimately knows, the anti-event is itself a signifier of ambition. He best articulates it himself: More Life means more chune for your headtop, you know? Indeed, Nineteen85 reckons that the playlist format isn’t a protracted hangover from VIEWS or a stopgap release, but instead the result of an abundance of “good ideas,” transmitted as such “without making it a big ordeal.” The Playlist is the anti-event, a testament to Drake’s consistency and workmanlike approach to his craft. The album, in its cynical design and cascading cycle of hype, can’t contain Drake’s febrility, nor can it drain him of his energy. A Playlist By October Firm: in which Drake adds to his already-expansive, fractured taxonomy of distribution methods (see: “retail mixtape”), and, by cooly recapturing the unfussy, dashed-off appeal of If You’re Reading This It’s Too Late and What a Time to Be Alive, he doubles down on the continuity and reflexiveness of his un-ending hot streak, thereby reaffirming his ascendency in the process.

Drake more life album review