From his wardrobe to his public displays of affection, Drake's career has been built upon his proudly wearing his emotions within each and every one of verses. And after the success of Thank Me Later its likely he's filled with even more inspiration to fuel his often conflicted observations of stardom and love. New song "Marvin's Room," a nearly six-minute drunk dial set to slow-burning synths and a gorgeous piano outro off upcoming Take Care (out October 24), hit the web today. The confusing title calls to mind the 1991 Scott McPherson play and subsequent film adaptation with Leonardo DiCaprio—is there a bromance we don't know about?
As a desperate, booze-fueled call to a former flame who has obviously moved on (or at least is in the process) Drake takes shots at her new man in the chorus. The dig might be a good way to release some anger, but it makes for a difficult public singalong (unless, of course, it will be embraced by the public for its vulgarity, á la "Runaway"). The largely one-side conversation is filled with admissions ("I've had sex four times this week, I'll explain / Having a hard time adjusting to fame"), followed by cuts to the frustrated woman on the receiving end asking "are you drunk right now?" While some of these lines are memorable, we too find ourselves getting impatient with Drizzy, who doesn't begin rapping until 2:56. Rattling off the pratfalls of fame, and likely, the things that led to the demise of his relationship ("I think I'm addicted to naked pictures and sitting and talking about bitches that we almost had") he's asking us to feel sorry for him and accept these shortcomings. For those who'd rather do without his strained attempts at crooning, this is where the song takes off; his rhymes are backed by punching bass lines ("We threw a party, yeah we thew a party / Bitches came over, yeah we threw a party") but it's fleeting, and we soon return to the far less entertaining pity party we began with.
Like "Dreams Money Can Buy," this is not an official single off the album—wait until July—and rightfully so. Call it the equivalent to Thank Me Later's "Shut It Down," this slow-jam has its faults, yet remains a fresh look inside the older, possibly more heartbroken and conflicted, Aubrey Graham.