On his wounded fifth album, Mac Miller sings deftly about heartbreak and
his mental state, capturing his resignation without turning sadness into a
performative spectacle. He mostly lets the beats breathe, clearing ample
space for the record’s peaceful orchestral swells and blushing keyboards.
He’s also singing more than ever, and he sounds better than ever doing it.
Modest as it is, his voice is expressive in ways his plainspoken prose
could never be, capturing his resignation without turning sadness into a
performative spectacle.
As always, Miller remains a step behind the prestige artists he
emulates—Chance the Rapper, Anderson.Paak, and, increasingly, Frank Ocean,
whose nonchalant songcraft looms large here. Swimming is less
virtuosic than those artists’ recent works, but no less heartfelt, and the
album’s wistful soul and warm funk fits Miller like his oldest, coziest
hoodie. He may be unable to escape his own head, as he laments on the
opener “Come Back to Earth,” but he’s decided to make himself as
comfortable as possible while he’s trapped there.