Drake, Kanye, Lil Nas X, and the Art of Online Self-Creation


The income roles the game speaks. I believe at one time that one of the most exciting things about the social internet – what drives each of us to some degree is the way it allows us to be whoever we want to be. It provides a license for role -playing, provides space for pageantry at the show. It allowed us to live outside of our sometimes relentless self to another. It can cover up anonymity, for sure – the abuses it has long committed by catfishers, trolls, and scammers. But for the most part, most sacred digital, the social internet allows fantasy, it gives way to a kind of growing realism. A more porous self is allowed.

Within this ecology of many and varied identities, there are archetypes born of specific generational sets, symbols that we play or project but otherwise create ourselves (some of which also double as meme). Maybe you are one Karen or contains the probabilities of a Facebook Boomer; maybe you have arrived Mga Hotep in the comments section of a video by Dr. Umar on YouTube or just this week arguing over a Barb on Twitter, fertile platforms where released identities proliferate and find community. One of the most famous characters inside this online ethics carousel is the serial cheater, the former app lothario – the fuckboy, as it were. You probably know one. Maybe you’ve dated another one. (It happens to the very best of us.) The bro who says water wants a night standing up, finally has little room for real compassion and is motivated by a need for constant reassurance. He’s a heartbreaking chore. A werewolf dress by Gucci. He’s Drake.

There’s, often, little pride or reward in parking a famous person in public-rarely claiming the archetype strength of the wearer-making the Toronto rapper’s latest project, titled and Certified Lover Boy, more thoughtful; it is lush with pride and a glimmer of regret, a millennial mindset that is all the more familiar. The album is his sixth major-label release, and it embraces the feel and sound of a partner who intentionally, perhaps even intentionally, just left you reading to wonder, days later, why not you can text it too. Certified Lover Boy a crash course in the ancient arts of poisonous masculinity (Drake actually uses the album’s set of descriptions), a reflection of even more evil human coercion. We live in a world of self -taught heroes, wannabe do -gooders, and TED Talk motivators, of people who, despite their hidden motives, seek to make known how decent they are – but choose to Drake is the role most hated. Why? Because it’s all done. And we wanted a riveting show.

She’s not the only one wearing a shiny cosplay. Along with Kanye West, who is releasing his 10th studio album, Donda, earlier this month, Certified Lover Boy just an enthusiasm for a much larger conversation about how and what we need to make good art. What about their music – what it is states—It has nothing to do with the music itself. Neither is the actor in their backyard here; many are heard of club and Donda a used material. However, it is the show that surrounds the art, the extravagant scenery and characters they present, that invites us to watch and listen, at the endless stan (another reason why the speech about Kanye’s listening sessions, performed in stadiums and streamed by Apple The music, more enjoyable than talking around the album). Music has become part of something else: the mask of self -creation given to us on the internet.

A combination of heartbreak and loss, ridicule and sympathy, with all the drunken voicemails, “u up” texts, and family drama encountered in previous iterations, Certified Lover Boy a regurgitation of all that precedes it. You can’t help but wonder if this is the character Drake-formerly a teenage actor Degrassi—Want to play all the time; that it was probably his final form. There is no evidence of growth. No strange twist. “I remember telling you I miss you, that’s a little text,” he runs on “Papi’s Home,” a line from a song that can be found on any of his last five albums.





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