Throughout the video, you can see Shiggy busting out his signature moves while Drake follows his lead along with all the backup dancers. Last night, Drake released an official music video for “In My Feelings” in which Shiggy got more than just a thank you: he’s getting credit in front of millions of fans. For a while, that seemed to be that.ĭrake thanks Shiggy for getting him a #1 record with “in my feelings” /aYWKExpaBd- DJ Akademiks July 17, 2018 In response, Drake acknowledged that Shiggy got him a number one record late last month.
The Keke Challenge is everywhere everyone is doing it.
If it wasn’t for an Instagram video where Shiggy, a comedian, danced along to the opening lyrics, nobody would be running around constantly asking, “Keke, do you love me?” That footage created a music sensation that is so big, a government agency had to issue a warning telling people to stop getting out of moving cars to dance in traffic. The current and indisputable domination of Drake’s “In My Feelings” was not a planned thing. In 2018, it doesn’t work like that at all: the song of the summer is collectively decided by the fans, meaning that, nowadays, any unassuming tune can take over the airwaves if the internet likes it enough. Those vetted songs would then likely be what you’d hear on radio stations and at the club. Because that’s really what it’s about.Before social media, the music industry would take an album, pick some singles, and promote what they thought the hits should be. “But when I do take a look at the broader scope of things, it’s often … Even though I don’t directly, literally address things in my music, I’ve always tried to make music that transcends gender, nationality-to try and unify people. “I obviously spend a lot of time in my own world,” he told Beats 1 host Zane Lowe in 2016.
Like Kanye, Drake is as much a curator as he is a creator, an artist capable of arranging collaborators from a universe of styles and making them all fit into his personal vision-an approach that has made him one of the most definitive rappers and pop figures of his era.
Though the feelings remain (always feelings, big feelings), the sound-for the most part, courtesy of longtime affiliate Noah “40” Shebib-is always changing: a little dancehall here (“One Dance”), a little house there (“Passionfruit”), some old New Orleans bounce (“Nice for What”), a bit of Wu-style boom-bap (“Started from the Bottom”), some smooth, to-the-minute trap-soul (“Hotline Bling”). But most of all, he felt like a person-someone who isn’t canceled by his paradoxes, but defined by them. Critics-and he’s had plenty-like to point out that he started as an actor: He played Jimmy Brooks in the Canadian teen show Degrassi: The Next Generation. Was he an R&B singer who rapped or a rapper who sang? Was he really that sad, or just doing a bit? And if it wasn’t a bit, how could this guy-talented, intuitive, hardworking-really be so down?įrom minute one, there was something a little different about him: He could be confessional, vulnerable, but also incredibly coarse he could make an earnest commitment one minute (“Take Care”) and be drunk-dialing the next (“Marvins Room”) he could convince you he was an underdog from his perch on top of the world (“Started from the Bottom”). After all, he figured, you get someone hanging your name next to Tupac’s, even if it’s only to take a shot at it? You must be doing something right.īorn Aubrey Drake Graham in Toronto in 1986, Drake became-like Tupac-something of a generational voice, a prism for his pop-cultural moment. A couple of years after he broke into the mainstream with 2009’s So Far Gone, Drake was browsing art in Los Angeles when a piece caught his eye: a big neon sign that read, “LESS DRAKE, MORE TUPAC.” For a minute, he felt angry, embarrassed-he wanted to walk up and rip the sign off the wall.