I clamoured into my car one morning, cold and already tired for the long school week ahead, started up my car and turned on the radio. I took pause, hearing a shockingly familiar tune that I had not heard in years – not since I left my warm home in the Caribbean.
My heart swelled – I could have burst into tears right there as the nostalgia hit me. Here was my culture being played on an international radio station!
But then the joy came crashing all around me as the ill-timed vocals of “Closer” by Halsey and the Chainsmokers cut in.
Sitting there in disbelief, I felt like someone had taken my culture, stripped it bare, and repurposed it without even giving a courtesy nod. But this isn’t the first time this has happened. In fact, it has become a trend to cash in on Caribbean culture.
Drake is the most infamous example of an artist dipping their hand into the proverbial Caribbean cookie-jar. With hits like “Too Good” and “One Dance” sampling heavily from soca and dancehall beats and artists, Drake has inappropriately been hailed as a “translator” of this foreign culture by critics.
But Drake isn’t as much a “translator” as he is an appropriator. Many other artists agree. Jamaican artist Sean Paul, in a piece for The Guardian, states that “people like Drake … come and do dancehall-oriented music but don’t credit where dancehall came from … and they don’t necessarily understand it.” Mr. Vegas, another dancehall artist, openly criticized Drake for this taking-without-attributing and whitewashing of Caribbean sound and music.
The same can be said for his abrupt use of watered down Caribbean slang in his music.
Peppering his songs with his best attempt at Jamaican patois, Drake’s mock accent is another aspect of Caribbean culture that has been taken and sold back to us. Barbados-native Rihanna in her chart-topping song “Work” brings her home culture to the forefront –– accent included. Unlike Drake, Rihanna’s song was met with harsh criticism due to her patois being perceived as “gibberish.” And unlike Drake, Rihanna’s accent is a genuine part of her identity –– one that was quickly torn apart.
“But he’s simply bringing dancehall into the spotlight! That isn’t appropriation!” I hear you say. There is a fine line between appreciation and appropriation. Drake has found himself being praised for his musical ingenuity, while artists like Popcaan, Beenie Man, and Movado remain in his shadow. Appreciation would allow Caribbean artists greater visibility, recognition, and credit for their work. If Drake wanted to show his appreciation for Caribbean artists, these names would not be unfamiliar to you. They would experience the same success. But so far, the only person who has been benefiting from this cultural “importing” is Drake himself.
I love Drake. I belt out the lyrics without a second thought. But hailing him as a translator of my culture is insulting because this is not translating – this is marketing Caribbean music, dialect, and culture, for consumption and his own profit.