Drake’s helping hand an antidote to not giving a damn
Drake loves to give away his money.
It’s an unusual habit in the hip-hop game, where getting stinking rich is the animating goal and paying it forward is not. This is a genre about the bling, not the hotline. Two years ago, after Harry Belafonte called him out by name for his lack of social responsibility, Jay Z started a foundation, giving millions to the sick and poor.
Just kidding. He responded by saying: “I’m offended by that because, first of all — and this is going to sound arrogant — but my presence is charity. Just who I am.”
He was right: it’s hard to imagine a more arrogant sentiment. By merely existing, Jay Z believes he is making the world a better place. He is a demigod to the downtrodden, you see, and if the penniless rubes would just soak up his exalted presence, perhaps they would find it easier to find a job or keep a roof over their heads.
But unlike Jay Z, Drake’s sense of social responsibility is not a delusion conjured from the atoms of hubris. Drake’s sense of social responsibility is now so elevated, it’s a miracle he hasn’t yet released a line of OVO Mother Teresa Retro High Tops. You get the sense that if a stranger bumped into Drake on the street and unloaded with a genuine tale of woe, the singer would burst into tears and then hand over the fob to his Bugatti Veyron.
The man’s giving just shows no sign of slowing down.
On Friday, Drake’s philanthropy intersected with Drake’s commercial art to create something increasingly rare in popular culture: an uplifting music video that plays like a miniature telethon. Shot in Florida, under the vision of Canada’s own Director X, God’s Plan opens with this graphic: “The budget for his video was $996,631.90. We gave it all away. Don’t tell the label . . . ”
From here, the video, which Drake has called “the most important thing I have ever done in my career,” consists of unscripted scenes in which the 6 God is shown hurling charitable thunderbolts around Miami, surprising random strangers with an onslaught of street patronage and everlasting goodwill.
Drake wanders into a grocery store and encourages everyone inside to load their wobbly carts with whatever they need as he picks up the tab with a grin. He writes cheques for scholarships. He makes donations to shelters and emergency responders. He surprises families in the park with stacks of cash so thick, they begin to tremble and weep. He sends teen girls on shopping sprees. He hands out toys and gift cards, clothing and cars.
This dizzy Drizzy giveaway works out to about $2,807 per second.
The cynical may scoff at the wide praise God’s Plan received on Friday and insist the video is nothing but a marketing stunt. They may suggest the song, which debuted at No. 1 on the Billboard 100, is poised to more than recoup its direct-to-charity budget. They may believe this is shameless branding.
They may seek ulterior motives in Drake’s fiscal altruism.
But to engage in such cynicism is to miss the point entirely.
At a time when most celebrities are oblivious inside their own material bubbles, Drake is at least aware of the hardships that exist beyond his lavish world of mansions and private jets. The gap between his net worth and the quotidian struggles of those who will never end up on a Forbes list seems to really nag at him. It keeps triggering these outof-body experiences in which Aubrey Graham is floating high above a poolside Drake and whispering, “Do the right thing.”
If you track his many years of philanthropy, big and small — whether it was donating $30,000 to build a computer learning centre in Jamaica or covering the funeral costs for an Ohio woman who lost her entire family in a fire — Drake has emerged as the emcee with a conscience. Unlike many other rappers, Drake did not grow up in the projects or endure hardscrabble poverty in his formative years.
But, ironically, he seems to have a better sense of suffering. Unlike Jay Z, Drake’s presence is not his charity — but his charity is his presence.
And God’s Plan is an antidote to just not giving a damn.
Watching my daughters watch it was an interesting experience. Though they didn’t care much for the song — or for Drake’s dance moves — they absorbed his acts of random kindness with rapt fascination.
This may be the most important part of Drake’s new video.
In a genre in which selfish hedonism is the norm, Drake is wearing his heart on his sleeve. Doing good has never seemed more cool. vmenon@thestar.ca