If there’s one takeaway from Her Loss, Drake and 21 Savage’s album that finally arrived on Friday, November 4th, it’s that everything that glitters isn’t gold. Inspired by the Honestly, Nevermind standout “Jimmy Cooks,” Her Loss is a collection of well-produced joints touching on their favorite topics. Jealous rappers? Check. Women? Check. A lifestyle for their biggest fans to live vicariously? That goes without saying.
But towards the end of the 16 tracks, both artists peel back their respective curtains and reveal truths beyond trips to Paris and enough gunplay to make John Wick blush. Please don’t get it confused, though. Her Loss is fun and always meets its target audience’s needs. Still, at times it aspires to something beyond its calm exterior. Her Loss succeeds because it seamlessly blends the typical and atypical while containing outstanding performances by both rappers, who sound like they’re competing with one another on every song.
The most apparent attribute out the gate is 21 and Drake’s chemistry. Collab albums live or die on how well the artists mesh, either in sound or philosophy. In this era where artists make music for the algorithm, Her Loss could easily get lost in the sauce as just another ploy for Spotify spins. This doesn’t feel false, though, as their friendship is palpable.
Seriously, pick a song. Drake’s R&B sensibilities find their matching puzzle piece in 21’s roughneck rhymes. Sometimes, like on “Rich Flex,” they mirror each other’s cadences and rhyme patterns while attacking the same subject matter from slightly different angles. They occasionally finish the other’s rhymes like two friends finishing each other’s sentences, but it’s the technique for me.
Whether they recorded the album together or created it through the power of the internet, Her Loss‘s thoughtful construction makes it feel like they recorded it together. Drake usually handles the hooks and bridges through crooning or rapping, while 21 focuses on his ever-improving pen game for the verses. The one exception is when Travis Scott shows up on “Pussy & Millions,” adding the rare third verse to an album focused on never wearing out its welcome.
“Treacherous Twins” might be the album’s thesis statement. The affection Drake and 21 feel for each other bleeds through the speakers. “Treacherous Twins” turns subtext into text, with both men celebrating a deeply rooted friendship. Acknowledging one another as “best friends” is extremely rare for even the most vaunted rap duos. Is it weird that hearing it feels like a breath of fresh air? Rappers typically express sentiment for each other in muted ways. Or in a fashion that keeps their rumble tumble exteriors in tack. “You my n***a” or “I love these n****s” is the usual refrain.
That love for each other clashes with the misogyny disguised under an R&B mask. They’re not the first rappers to be on this tip, nor are they the last. Taking swipes at Megan Thee Stallion on “Circo Loco” puts that misogynistic behavior on full display. Hip-hop’s suspect relationship with those with two X chromosomes is well-worn territory. Still, it’s asking very little for some evolution as 2022 sunsets into 2023. Besides the fact it openly calls Meg a liar and questions her 2020 gunshot injury, it shows a willingness not to believe women. Drake and 21 galvanize behind someone whose name isn’t worth writing, much less mentioning.
Hip-hop’s growth as an art form and culture since its inception is remarkable. But for every step forward regarding accessibility and worldwide dominance, it takes more steps back in how it paints relationships seemingly steeped in “Black love.” While I don’t believe rappers should be role models, the fact of the matter is they are. Whether they want the title or not, they’re ambassadors of the Black community since they often have the loudest voices and the most significant microphones.
Reflecting on the ills of said community is fine; that’s hip-hop at its best. But flippantly throwing those problems back in the face of your own people for a punchline and a giggle is a problem — one made worse when done under Drake’s typical “nice guy” persona. This isn’t just a Her Loss issue. This is a broader problem, and this is the latest album that revels in it rather than taking the next logical step forward. Your mileage may vary on the album as it relates to this topic, and for some, that means Her Loss is their own form of persona non grata. Others won’t care. But it’s a common theme throughout the album, so ignoring it feels like critical malpractice. Whether you agree with the album’s views on women or disagree, it’s worth a discussion or two… dozen.
Sifting past the glitz, glamor, threats, and paranoia is a boatload of insecurity. This is where the album truly shines, especially for 21 Savage. 21 and Drake go solo on the album’s last two tracks with “3AM on Glenwood” and “I Guess it’s Fuck Me,” respectively. Besides perfectly blending flows, beats, precise timing, and bars, the songs reveal two men who bury a lot of pain and guilt under all that jewelry.
“N***a Johnny got killed and I seen it/ I can’t fight with these demons top shotta, n***a I got gunfire for these demons/ Hope you know you gotta stand on all that shit you been tweetin/ Took some real n****s from me I could kill/ the whole world and I still won’t be even/ I be thinkin’ bout my brothers while I’m shoppin’ at Neiman’s/ Real gangster when I’m gone, carve my name in the cement.”
That’s a lot of burden for 21 Savage — or for anyone. The type of weight the earlier tracks only hint at, but this song makes it abundantly clear. Even when he tries tucking those vulnerabilities back inside so the tough guy can come out and play, it’s too late. The person behind the persona showed up and gave a glimpse of a much different album. Not necessarily a better one, but a complete 180 from Her Loss‘s modus operandi.
Even Drake tells us on “I Guess it’s Fuck Me” that while everything he does seems so effortless to those looking in, the reality is none of it comes easy. Work consumes every second of his life. Heavy is the head that wears the proverbial crown for being one of the best at using verbs, diction, and nouns.
Her Loss isn’t always a deep album, but that doesn’t make it any less profound. Sometimes excellent rapping over very dope beats mixed with a tinge of introspection goes a long way. Her Loss is our gain.
Essential Tracks: “3AM on Glenwood,” “I Guess it’s Fuck Me,” “Rich Flex”
Her Loss Artwork:
