Drake wasn’t kidding about that ‘worst behavior’ business. Rap’s leading softie dropped the gentleman routine in 2013 and let the feelings flow all the way from passive aggression to their logical conclusion: an asshole on parade. (On record at least; Fallon appearances and Toronto Raptors commercials are another story entirely.) There’s nothing nice about Nothing Was The Same. Drake airs out his family, his mentors, and Courtney from Hooters on Peachtree. He pushes his opening track well past the point of reason just because he can. In its own way, this album is as vicious as the hardest street rap and as confrontational as Yeezus; it’s quite simply an hour and change of boasts, tantrums, and fits set to the crystalline sweep of Noah “40” Shebib’s continued sonic splendor. And that’s why those of us who put up with Drake do it, right? Musically, everybody on Team OVOXO was firing on all cylinders for this record, including our barely likable protagonist. Bonus track “All Me” is an even more preposterous creation myth than the meme-as-anthem “Started From The Bottom,” but did you catch those bars about the babysitter and the toilet paper? Could you possibly forget those hooks — or count them? “Hold On, We’re Going Home” revels in absurd creaminess; I laughed at it the first time I heard it, but by year’s end I’m applauding it without an iota of irony. So many others expertly evoked the sound of dusk: “Too Much,” “From Time,” “Connect.” Drake and his entourage have their aesthetic down pat. He’s the furthest thing from perfect, but in the year when “selfie” was added to the dictionary, Nothing Was The Same was just right. –Chris [LISTEN]