Twelve Carat Toothache (out at present, June third) is Put up Malone’s shortest album to this point. And in line with Posty, it is a deliberate play to withstand the overloaded observe lists that dominate streaming platforms; “I’ve made loads of compromises, particularly musically, however now I don’t really feel like I need to anymore,” he mentioned in a Billboard cowl story again in January, “I don’t want a No. 1; that doesn’t matter to me no extra, and at a degree, it did.”
This factors to a couple completely different potential outcomes for his fourth studio album — now that Put up Malone has certainly scored his a number of No. 1s, ascended to true headliner standing, and have become a “delicate unhealthy boy” icon, taking a few of that stress off to make hit after hit might completely work in his favor. If he has nothing to lose at this level in his considerably indestructible profession, then Twelve Carat Toothache might be something he needs it to be, and being liberated at all times sounds fairly modern.
Or, the shortage of preciousness and stress might end in all of those songs, primarily, being filler. Put up Malone might put something out at this level and folks will nonetheless hear; so, would that make him work more durable to create a extra private, experimental portrait? Or would he telephone it in with an aimless, largely hole assortment of songs that lack the capability to chop by means of the noise? The reply, sadly, is the latter — however not with no few illuminating moments.
Put up Malone needs you to know that he’s tortured. He has been going by means of it. He’s not been taking good care of himself, smoking an unholy quantity of cigarettes, and sabotaging his relationships. From the very first music, “Repute,” he warns the listener with a laundry listing of vices that he feels is tied to future: “I used to be born to boost hell/ I used to be born to take tablets/ I used to be born to fuck up.” These darkish and cynical truths aren’t essentially new ideas for Put up, since 2019’s Hollywood’s Bleeding actively doubled down on the tortured excesses of fame.