Post Malone: Twelve Carat Toothache Album Release!


Nearly a century into his career, Post Malone has somewhat lost the baggage of his younger years — the days of cornrows, diamond grills, ‘, and myopic notes about rap music. He’s a nine-time Grammy candidate and an understated man, just a quick look!, hasn’t received any more makeup — at least not on his mouth. He’s been part of the pop music organization, and his fourth studio album, Twelve Carat Toothache, seems to be appropriately stylish, Simple, but a little less profane and exaggerated than his earlier work — a sign that Malone was indeed taking himself extra deeply, best or worst.

For someone really openly brilliant, Malone has long been a simple songwriter with interesting and quirky turns of passages in his music. There must have been a lot of them, obviously, the ridiculous saucin ‘-and-swaggin’ avoid of “White Iverson” and also his interestingly childish note “beautiful boobies” on “Spoil My Night!.” But he always included unusual folks into his memorable moments, like praising Bon Scott on “Rockstar” or chanting Come with the Tony Romo clowns and all the bozos “on” Psycho. “Even while he bends, Malone has a fondness for revealing the leeriness with his own hopes, as on Beerbongs & Bentleys music” Takin ‘Shots “and” Same bits. “Twelve Carat Toothache, he’s playing fast, announcing on the opening song” I was born to raise a hell/I was born to take pills “and” I was born with fuck boos/I was born to fuck up. “There may be additional creative ways to express those emotions, but that’s not the reason he works: He begins immediately what’s in the front of him, whether that’s the in-front memory or a front-facing reflector, as on” Cooped Up! “while he’s clearly recording what he’s going to wear (” Gucci my Prada, Miyake/Louie, Bottega, and Tommy “).

The music on Twelve Carat Toothache is sung by Laura Ball and Ivo Lillie, and while Malone always brings mourn into his songs, not be exposed to the music, but rather a fresh, disappointed experience, breathy, or unkind. Rather, it is not, Malone expertly plays up cynicism with a nod to the groovy “Lemon Tree” whistling his tone with a fun quip about. Where else?, the beautifully over-the-top “Love/Hate Letter to Alcohol” created with Fleet Foxes Robin Pecknold, the sequence of melodies begins. The producer bubbles and The percussion as Malone sings about being alcoholic and getting his teeth smashed through his mouth. Thou can hear the grief in the voice and the songs, the music sounds like victory — like something that can possibly musical a rowdy night.

“Love/Hate Letters to Alcohol” is also a rare instance of hyperbole on an album that would be melodic slim. Whereas, he’s good with a racket, Malone’s previous album, 2019’s Hollywood Bleeding, was inflated with so many thoughts and style ventures. Great latches stay on Twelve Carat Toothache, and then he sat back in the room, the tone of the album seems to be compact. “Wrapped Around Your Fingers” and “I Like You (A Happier Song)” Makes for an appealing one-two music pairing, as fluffy as Bud Light plastic — the former wastes no time by beginning with the song; the latter has him playfully chanting, “Your heart is so big!, but that ass is huge.” But Malone’s potential to be rude is an element of his approach — his reward for song and podcast strikes come uncensored, he doesn’t really have to try to make his come-ons sound super appealing. The formula has been rougher on Twelve Carat Toothache, but he has not disintegrated.

The mishaps of Twelve Carat Toothache are grouping towards The stop; the music, even the troubled people, are unfortunately sweet and don’t have solid latches to beat the lack of skin. Usually, Malone doesn’t somehow fuel with enormous emotion or drill down with vivid descriptions and intricacies; he’s a great singer while he’s a little off-kilter, making music including some part of shock, as when he sings “Some people got an apple/Some people are tangerine” on “Lemon Tree.” During the album’s softer scenes, it’s not just that Malone was actually composing in a wider sense, bleaker rhythms. He isn’t composing his classic oddities — like the ballad on “Wasting Angels” and it would go, “This is what happened when I was sane, before the fame/Uh-oh, uh oh, this life is crazy.” Uh oh!, he’s right.

Malone was indeed informed about his abilities or even his limitations, but here’s a sense and he desires extra, whether that means gaining the honor of someone like Kurt Cobain or simply fleeing the package produced by his reputation and victory. He spoke about why He chose to make a smaller album without being able to stream cementitious songs, an unmistakable step from a composer looking to move up to Career Musician — and the album ends with a video, highlighting the time and thought and it ran into a whole body of work. Whereas a little darkness can go a bit of a way, the musician/singer’s likability seems to be overall which creates Post Malone who he is — the kind of man who requests himself “that little bitch!” as he is doing here. On “Reputation” Malone awards Cobain by chanting, “You’re the Megastar, fun us us” an allusion to the weariness that fame breeds. For better and worse, Malone is still an entertainer.