When that approach yields results as uninspiring as Views, it’s hard to support. When the results are good, like they were on If You’re Reading This, like they were on Nothing Was The Same and Take Care, it’s easy to dismiss those allegations of ghostwriting as merely being part of an artistic milieu. Drake’s recent feud with Meek Mill essentially saw him legitimise creation by committee. Returning to the forefront for this record is Noah “40” Shebib, the chief architect of the minimalist and harsh sound that has sold so many records, is credited (alongside scores of other ‘contributors’) on 12 of the 20 songs, flitting between hip-hop, R&B and dancehall. The musical aesthetic of Views is still unmistakably Drake’s.

“Why do I settle for women that make me pick up the pieces?”, “This year for Christmas, I just want apologies” – it’s difficult to empathise with this Drake, this Drake who is so keen to appear the victim of his own astronomical success. For a man who is arguably one of music’s only genuine superstars, Drake has an incredible talent for coming across as the scorned party. For an absurd 82 minutes, Views meanders our supposed tour-guide throughout the vibrant city of Toronto comes across as morose, devoid of any blame or responsibilities for the relationships that he describes tossing by the wayside. Unlike last year’s ‘mixtape’, If You’re Reading This It’s Too Late (the biggest selling rap album of 2015), there are no bangers here. For a record that has had over a year and a half of build-up, it’s difficult to see Views as anything other than a disappointment. Rather than “runnin’ through the 6”, Drake is ambling. Views sprawls through monotony, anonymity and self-indulgence.

On Views, one cannot help avoid the realities of the latter. At times since Take Care, an album encapsulated by Drake’s exquisite epic to drunken, unrequited lust ‘Marvin’s Room’, Drake has trodden a fine line between that empowering self-awareness, and pure self-absorption. At his best, Drake inspires in his audience an exuberant commonality, creating anthemic music out of his own self-awareness. Ever since 2011’s muddled, sprawling masterpiece Take Care, Drake’s unique selling-point has been his ability to offer a peek into the deepest corners of his soul, to make his anxieties relatable, to make himself human despite his superstardom. At his best, he’s an artist who displays immense vulnerability in a genre where that quality is hard to come by.

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