I’ve seen Drake perform four times in the last year. My first Drake show was his Toronto stop during the Jungle tour—the mini tour in-between festival dates, fresh from the release of his spectacular mixtape If You’re Reading This, It’s Too Late—and then OVO Fest 2015. Drake is special to me, not because I live in Toronto and laud him as one of my favourite performers and rappers. But it’s because of him that I met my partner, the person with whom I shared these concert experiences, and with whom I share my life. My partner and I met through Tinder, I should add.
Videos by VICE
Tinder’s set-up was unfortunately familiar in an uncomfortable way: I had used the app on-and-off for a year, swiping left (often) or right on men in my immediate vicinity. To be frank, the app was an option at a mostly option-less time since–as many women here can attest–many men in Toronto act like children. Dan, however, popped up on my screen with an out-of-focus photo and a simple bio (“I like stuff. I like things.”) I swiped right, we matched, and he simply said, “Hey.” Noticing a photo of mine where I wore an OVO toque and was staring at my sister’s monstrous black lab puppy led to Dan’s first line of questioning: “Do you like Drake?” In fact, the first text message I ever sent Dan was just a photo of Drake sitting courtside at a Toronto Raptors game in 2014. We discussed Drake’s albums (Nothing Was The Same is still his very best, in my opinion), references to Drake affiliates (Lil Wayne being called “Petit Wayne” on Broad City), and dissected his songs to get to know one another and form a bond specific to us before our first date. A very public figure became a private talking point that informed our budding relationship.
A month into this new relationship, whenever I’d listen to “Jungle” off IYRTITL, the slow indie-ish rock beat would cue up and I’d think of Dan. I knew I loved him before we had said we were exclusive to the other; before I had asked him, over a taco pizza at 2 AM, to be my boyfriend. Dan once brought me ramen soup when I was fresh from a flight from New York and painfully hungover. He then put on “Best I Ever Had,” laughing at how cringy it is, and we danced in my tiny bachelor basement apartment before mouthing as we fell asleep, “You the fuckin’ best.”
Dan and I jumped around and hollered exuberantly during both days of this year’s OVO fest. We made jokes in-between sets, largely at the expense OB O’Brien, who wore a neon green hat on day one, presumably so that we’d know where he was at all times in a black-lit arena. Drake’s sprawling set featured a medley of dozens of hits. Drake is a trained actor, which makes him a compelling performer; he knows how to direct his crowd in a heartfelt and affecting way. OVO Fest this year differed from last year, which is to say Drake looked and felt more secure on stage. He spoke of Toronto in a tone a lot like a kid bringing something special to ‘Show and Tell Day’ during elementary school: genuine, excited glee. Meanwhile, Future’s set felt average and too loud to the point that my ears haven’t actually stopped ringing. Over the last year that we’ve seen him on tour with Drake, his stage presence has gained boisterousness but his flow and music is lost in all the lustre. Our seats were spectacular so we had a direct view of the technical workings of the stage. During “Pop Style,” I saw an open hole where Drake, Rihanna, and Future routinely appeared or disappeared into. I looked at Dan and said, “It’s Kanye. Kanye is going to appear.” Yeezus rose, engulfed in smoke, wearing glittery Balmain jeans. Never have I seen Dan that excited at an OVO show than when ‘Ye appeared.
During Rihanna’s performances of “Too Good” at the singer’s first ever OVO fest, she cupped the side of Drake’s face with such tender familiarity before her lips parted to make a genuine and loving smile toward the rapper. The pair have an effortless performance flow, which may be, if rumours are true, because they are a couple again. Whatever the source of their chemistry, it is palpable. Though Rihanna—probably and understandably jet-lagged—flubbed a bit, not sure where to leave after her brief set, she managed to set an energy level for the crowd comparable to what Drake had been doing for almost an hour and a half before her, especially with “Bitch Better Have My Money.” Drake’s signature toothy grin was the most sincere any time Rihanna was onstage. I looked over at Dan and he replicated a similar, sweeter smile to me.
Finding my relationship with Drake as our conduit is cheesy, and thanking Drake for my relationship is a superficial way of looking at how much I love and respect my partner. Drake’s lyrics are often about anxiety toward women and relationships, parsing emotional connections; and how trust, or a lack of it, is huge. To find my love at all is something; that we could navigate a lot of the emotional don’ts and come out the other side loving each other wholeheartedly is, at least I think, the best outcome our reminiscent 6 God could ever want. Not one person now perfectly embodies the meeting of pop culture and human connection the way Drake does: he’s a conversation starter; a performer who we believe belongs to all of us yet he truly belongs to no one. Dan and I are in a loving, tender relationship; respectful and nurturing of the other. I could thank Tinder, but truthfully I thank Drake; not later, but right now.
Sarah MacDonald is a staff writer at Noisey Canada. Follow her on Twitter.
