Balloonerism by Mac Miller: Album Review

An upbeat celebration of tragedy

The number of non-cash-grab, genuinely enjoyable posthumous releases I remember can be counted on one hand. Mac Miller’s earlier 2020 release Circles (most famous for making Anthony Fantano sob like a little baby), some of Michael Jackson’s post-2009 content, and now this new project, Balloonerism.

Balloonerism, and Mac Miller as a whole, never really represented the style of hip-hop that I enjoy. Almost poetically, the Tyler, the Creator song “Balloon” from his recent CHROMAKOPIA was by far my least favorite and most skipped song on the project. To me, songs with incredibly melodic production and slower pace evoke a sort of cognitive dissonance by sounding antithetical to what’s common in mainstream rap.

Balloonerism gets quite close to breaking the barrier, though. The production choices are all new ideas (for someone that only has a passing idea of Mac Miller’s style based on one listen each to Swimming and Circles—don’t kill me if he does similar things on those two projects) that soothe the ear. The lyricism veers in the exact opposite direction, dealing with heavy subjects through introspective verses like drug addiction, lost love, and most obviously life and death.

This juxtaposition proceeds through the album’s entire 14-track duration, starting with small hints at the highs (pun intended) and lows of drug use, and ending with a haunting near-celebration of death. Death is a subject that’s shrouded in mystery for most of the album’s duration—a question begging for answers. It’s a dark cloud that looms over the bright vocals and sound and sets a grim undertone, like Mac perfectly predicting the day of his death on “Funny Papers.” The project reads as a tragic poem: the man who thinks and writes most about death eventually experiences it.

The album’s cover art is a great first impression that perfectly encapsulates the album. The deformed face of Mac Miller stands front and center, his parts jumbled, disoriented, and all in the wrong locations. Aside from clearly being an artistic representation of a psychedelic trip, it previews the start of this album very well and to a lesser extent the rest of its duration also.

Namely, Miller begins his project with “Tambourine Dream,” an intro track that’s exclusively the shaking of a tambourine—an instrument I found out he was incredibly fond of. It’s an odd beginning, but it sets a nice tone like the prologue of a memoir.

Then comes “DJ’s Organ Chord,” a song that’s an instrumental for the majority of its duration save for one stunning SZA verse. The experimentation eventually slowly fizzles out as the album progresses, but it contrast between its light tone and its darker contents remains until the end.

SZA’s verse is the first actual singing we hear on the album, which introduces its prospective contents quite well. It speaks of a man who’s been “driving for days,” on the backdrop of a chill lo-fi beat. It contrasts the excitement and regret of substance abuse, as well as discussing its often devastating effects:

I know you miss the nighttime

I know you miss your lifetime

…

Tell us the truth about it

Cocaine is ruthless

I know the truth about it

Cocaine is ruthless

I something that’s very notable is his flow. He has a smooth, fluid voice that carries well through the light, almost staccato production that carries through the track. It’s especially enjoyable on “Do You Have A Destination?,” which delves even deeper into this juxtaposition. The repeated declaration “I went to sleep famous and I woke up invisible,” paired with a discussion of his personal life and habits, the activities of the industry, and the friends he keeps as a coping mechanism all combine nicely over some light piano. The dark droning sounds in the background, though, still remain as an ever-present feeling of melancholy.

But up to this point, I think the album’s biggest standout is its lyricism. As I said, I think its production brings up many new ideas, but not many that I particularly love—it’s more of a “to each their own” thing than a genuine indictment of his musical creativity. I can see why he’s incredibly popular, but the first time this project genuinely moves me is up next.

“5 Dollar Pony Rides” is unlike anything I’ve previously listened to in the genre of hip-hop. It was the lead single for this album and my first real encounter with Mac Miller’s music. The production really does sound like something out of a circus or carnival, beaming the picture of the pony rides that were never bought straight into the listener’s head. This is also our first sign of the theme of lost love on the tracklist—it reminisces about a relationship that seems to have ended, and is likely the one discussed on the subsequent “Friendly Hallucinations” and elsewhere on the album.

Let me give you what you want (Need), ooh

And maybe later, what you need (Need), yeah

I remember, girl, you used to have fun (Need), yeah

Now I ain't seen a smile in a while

Heard you're feelin' pretty lonely (Need), yeah

Your daddy shoulda got you that pony

Let me give you what you want

This is also another place where the conflicted emotions of Miller shine through the divided production and lyrical choices. Despite rapping and singing about a distant relationship, this song probably has the most positive instrumental of the entire project—a 4-minute electronic piece that sounds like candy shop music.

“Friendly Hallucinations” begins a darker tone shift in the album’s atmosphere. It’s less of a total shift than a see-saw or pendulum between the darker and the more upbeat—Miller eventually transitions back to happier songs. The change now is entirely understandable, though—when he’s rapping about the “whispers of an innocent, ignorant child,” there’s only so much joy you can feel.

This is another case where the production of the album isn’t up to my personal preferences, but I still have to give it credit—the SZA background vocals and the gradual slowing of the instrumental are highlights here.

“Mrs. Deborah Downer” is the climax (more like a trough from an emotional standpoint) of this album’s first low point (emotionally, not in quality). It’s also our first preview of the theme of death. This is the album’s second production highlight after “5 Dollar Pony Rides,” where Miller fully embraces the idea of loss and heartbreak using an undoubtedly somber melody to back his comparison of the temporary happiness of a high to the fleeting nature of life:

Even pills turn to powder, baby

Can you sit right next to me and crush 'em down? (Crush 'em down)

If pills can turn to powder

Then this world could turn to ash

This jazz rap really reminds me of the style I kind of enjoyed on ScHoolboy Q’s BLUE LIPS, and perhaps a less thrilling version of some of the interludes on To Pimp a Butterfly. The difference-maker here is Mac’s vocals—in the second half of the song, his voice comes through very nicely to envelop that production to great effect.

“Stoned” is a very fun one, and keeps the production streak alive. It has a bit of a softer rock sound, with melodic guitar backing and some good vocals. And in keeping with his other trend of great, almost poetic one-liners that wouldn’t feel out of place in a university literature class, Miller proclaims:

We can get stoned

I swear to God, Heaven feels just like home

Using the double entendre of “Heaven” to represent both a drug high (I mean, he’s literally getting “high,” as in to the skies) and the feeling of death and not knowing what comes next. Miller wishing for death is something that’s certainly heartbreaking in hindsight, but it makes his imagery in this track all the more stronger.

This is where the production hits a dip again, unfortunately. I think Miller’s flow feels incredibly strong and as smooth as ever on this track’s verses, but I really just don’t vibe with the instrumental. It’s still just as poetic as the previous tracks, though:

If I'm dyin' young, promise you'll smile at my funeral

Yeah, it's just a rule to follow

Live today 'cause you can lose tomorrow

Listening to “Funny Papers” is honestly a bit depressing, because Mac Miller successfully predicted the date of his own death—a Friday, like he mentions in the song. His vocal performance is a special highlight on this song, which slots in perfectly with the chill production.

I’m not really sure how to interpret “everything was quiet but the music.” It seems to be a one-liner on how art transcends life and the power of a universal sensation—the fact that it can unite and create opportunities to empathize, etc.

The juxtaposition between life and death also shines through really well: the “Funny Papers” show both life and death at once. It’s a really interesting idea that isn’t touched upon much in the rest of rap.

I’m grouping these next two tracks together, because I think they both suffer from my sole problem of this album with the production not being part of my preferences. “Excelsior”’s jumpy, choppy, electronic instrumental feels especially odd to me. They also lack a lot of the good lyrical content that made the earlier tracks so compelling. I don’t have much to say about these two songs.

“Manakins,” unfortunately, extends most of the problems of the previous two songs, but is redeemed by an outstanding chorus that says:

We are what we believe in

There is no such thing as freedom

But what can we do?

What can we do?

And directly touches upon the idea of leaving this world, both through the aftermath of a drug-filled trip as well as actual death itself. It builds on the idea that the sensation of death can come before the physical loss of a body.

It feels like I'm dyin', dyin' (Yeah), dyin'

I'm dead

These last two songs are extremely reminiscent of The Caretaker’s Everywhere at the End of Time. For those unfamiliar, that six-album series is a musical expression of the process of the mind’s degradation from dementia. It begins with faded, sad ballroom music that, though depressing, is still clearly audible—before devolving into twisted, unrecognizable versions of those same compositions. But right before the death of the project’s subject in the sixth and final album, he has a moment of clarity where the comparatively lighter music of the first part returns to the listener’s ear.

That sudden regaining of the ability to perceive sound represents terminal lucidity, a phenomenon where dementia patients often suddenly begin recalling their life in their final moments. I think “Rick’s Piano” has a similar foundation to that idea—like the saying “life flashing before one’s eyes” before death. This is Mac Miller’s final declaration of hope, that something out there is better. But all while maintaining that perseverance, Mac still can’t stop wondering about death.

I shot myself on my birthday, fell into the ocean

Listened to their voices, I was lost in the commotion

None of us are chosen, I forgive 'em for their ignorance, but

What's a man gotta do for a little bliss? (Fuck the future)

The best is yet to come (The best is yet to come)

And we obviously know how this ends.

This entire track feels like loss. The repeated motif of the phone call droning in the background and going to voicemail, as if someone who can’t pick up is the intended recipient, is incredibly haunting to the ear. The slowly dimming voices of children and orchestra instrumental worsen this somber effect.

It probably doesn’t help that the lyrical contents of this all surround the same question of the afterlife that’s dominated the album:

Do they dream just like we do?

Do they dream just like we do?

Do they love just like we do?

Do they love just like we do?

Do they feel just like we do?

Do they feel just like we do?

If this album is truly a memoir of early Mac Miller, this is an incredible concluding chapter. It borders on disturbing, but in the most beautiful way possible. The final words we hear from Miller are his desires to “start over.” And I don’t think there was a better way to end the album off.

Overall, this album was incredibly solid, especially for a style of music that’s never really been my taste. The constant mood shifts give us a great glimpse into Miller’s psyche. The parallels between drugs and death alongside the comparisons of highs and heaven are an incredible insight into drug addiction. And most of all, the album’s closing half discussion of the afterlife, mistakes, death, and starting over put a beautiful end to the best posthumous project in recent memory.

Ratings:

DJ’s Organ Chord: 7/10
Do You Have a Destination?: 8/10
5 Dollar Pony Rides: 9/10
Friendly Hallucinations: 8/10
Mrs. Deborah Downer: 7/10
Stoned: 8/10
Shangri-La: 8/10
Funny Papers: 9/10
Excelsior: 6/10
Transformations: 6/10
Manakins: 8/10
Rick’s Piano: 9/10
Tomorrow Will Never Know: 10/10

Best:

1. Tomorrow Will Never Know

2. 5 Dollar Pony Rides

3. Rick’s Piano

Worst: Excelsior

Final Rating: 8.0/10