Review: ‘Big Baby D.R.A.M.’ Finds a Rapper-Singer in Whimsy Mode

http://www.nytimes.com/2016/11/03/arts/music/dram-big-baby-dram-review.html

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D.R.A.M., the Virginia rapper-singer who crash-landed into pop last year with the earnest goof “Cha Cha,” is one of the first breakout stars of hip-hop’s whimsy era, a rapper and singer who switches without trepidation among vocal approaches, moods and stylistic lanes, but never loses his grin.

His excellent full-length debut album, “Big Baby D.R.A.M.,” is joyous, clever and moves in surprising directions. It’s festive but also deeply felt, historically minded but also utterly of the now, when hip-hop has largely sloughed off its dourness, its rugged reserve and its reliance on tension. In this moment, melody has become central, and youthful freedom is the prevailing spirit. Whimsy is the next logical step.

“Broccoli,” a collaboration with Lil Yachty — another artist at the vanguard of modern whimsy — is currently at No. 5 on the Billboard Hot 100. It’s D.R.A.M.’s biggest hit, and emblematic. The primary instruments are piano and flute — in the distance, you can hear the Renaissance fair — and the tempo isn’t particularly quick, but feels jaunty nonetheless.

Early in the song, D.R.A.M. sings, “Ain’t! No! Telling! What! I’m! Finna! Be onnnnnnnnn!,” landing harder and more effectively on each successive word, like ascending a staircase, a trick that feels borrowed from rock ′n’ roll shout singing of the 1950s. Later, he raps about his breakthrough, then tells the story of his unlikely present, sprinkled with comic details: “Couple summers later I got paper/I acquired taste for salmon on a bagel/With the capers on a square plate.”

D.R.A.M.’s voice is wobbly and fuzzy, sometimes oscillating like the sound that emanates from the arcade booth when Pac-Man dies. It’s endlessly mutable — flexibility is his signature. The wobble also connotes a lack of self-seriousness: Formal rigor isn’t part of D.R.A.M.’s arsenal, nor is complexity. Instead, he’s a conversational lyricist, who sings in spoken sentences, massaged into melody.

On “Password (All That),” he’s agonizing over his romantic foibles: “Fingers crossed hoping that she don’t scroll too far/Down to see, my little plea for Emily/To lay with me while she was so far away.” This is one of a few places on the album where D.R.A.M. uses technology as metaphor, or at least narrative device — perpetual digital connection is inspiration for D.R.A.M.’s stories about romantic connection.

That’s clearest on “WiFi,” an appealingly rusted pseudo-neo-soul duet with Erykah Badu. It seeps, throbs, sighs. D.R.A.M. goes into his upper register for the flirtation: “Do your boyfriend pay your bill for you/To Netflix and chill with me?” Ms. Badu retorts with pressing questions and sly evasions. In the song, Wi-Fi is both literal subject and symbol.

In April, Ms. Badu told The New Yorker that D.R.A.M. was one of her favorite rappers, a bright feather in the young man’s cap. It was one of many that followed what was a challenging year. In 2014, he released a mixtape, “#1EpicSummer,” that included “Cha Cha,” which went on to become something of an internet hit. Like most of D.R.A.M.’s music, it was infectious, mildly humorous and easy to latch onto. Depending on your perspective, Drake’s “Hotline Bling” — which became his first No. 1 on the Billboard Hot 100 last year — latched on a little too tightly. (The essence was similar, the component parts different.)

Unlike plenty of young stars who are co-opted by Drake, and then sign on for a long-term arrangement, D.R.A.M. found refuge elsewhere: Rick Rubin is a mentor, and on this album, there are production credits for the Kanye West associate Mike Dean and also Donnie Trumpet, a longtime collaborator of Chance the Rapper’s.

And that makes sense: D.R.A.M.’s musical vision is earthier and broader than Drake’s. “Big Baby D.R.A.M.” is full of offhand riffs on several decades of black musical styles — “Get It Myself” leans in on a sort of D.I.Y. gospel harmonizing, filtered through 1970s electro funk. “Outta Sight” sounds like house music played by a slightly tipsy live band, and it’s followed by “Dark Lavender,” driven by lounge piano.

“Monticello Ave” uses piano the way the Native Tongues might have, then slaps New Jack Swing-inspired vocal harmonies atop it. And on “Misunderstood,” an uproarious collaboration with Young Thug, the schlock-pop producer Ricky Reed serves up triumphant “Eye of the Tiger”-esque 1980s power rock, while D.R.A.M. comes on like a comedic Rick James impersonator. Jester, seducer, shouter, whisperer: D.R.A.M. is at home in any of these styles — it’s all in good fun.