Post Malone’s “Twelve Carat Toothache” album review
Nearly ten years into his career, Post Malone has shed much of the baggage from his younger days—the cornrows, gold grills, and shortsighted remarks about rap music are now behind him. As a nine-time Grammy nominee and a stylish individual, he seems to have matured while maintaining his distinct look. Notably, his face hasn't seen any more tattoos, showing a shift in his image.
Being part of the pop music establishment, Post's fourth studio album, "Twelve Carat Toothache," reflects a polished and streamlined approach compared to his earlier, more vulgar and ostentatious work. This evolution suggests that Malone is taking his craft more seriously, whether it's for better or worse.
Despite his outwardly colorful persona, Post Malone has always been a straightforward lyricist, often incorporating humorous and intriguing phrases into his songs. From the catchy and amusing lines in tracks like "White Iverson" and "Spoil My Night" to unexpectedly referencing figures like Bon Scott and Tony Romo, Malone has a way of making his moments memorable.
On "Twelve Carat Toothache," he continues to deliver straightforward lyrics, openly expressing his desires and tendencies without trying to mask them with artful language. The album's opening song sets the tone with lines like "I was born to raise hell/I was born to take pills" and "I was born to fuck hoes/I was born to fuck up." While some might prefer more nuanced expressions, Malone's direct approach reflects his authenticity and straightforward nature.
In tracks like "Cooped Up," he even lists the high-end fashion brands he's wearing without any embellishments. Post Malone remains unapologetically himself, embracing his unique style and lyrical approach throughout "Twelve Carat Toothache."
In "Twelve Carat Toothache," the songs take listeners on a rollercoaster ride of emotions, seamlessly shifting between pain and joy. While Post Malone has always included elements of lament in his albums, the new sad songs have a refreshing quality—they don't feel tortured, forced, or ungracious. Instead, Malone skillfully incorporates bitterness with a playful twist in the spirited track "Lemon Tree," where he exaggerates his voice with a wink of hyperbole.
Another standout is the wonderfully extravagant "Love/Hate Letter to Alcohol," a collaboration with Fleet Foxes' Robin Pecknold. The song opens with a beautiful cascade of vocal harmonies, and the production booms with thunderous drums as Malone sings about the consequences of getting too drunk, even losing his teeth. Despite the underlying sorrow in both tone and lyrics, the song exudes a triumphant vibe, as if it could be the perfect soundtrack for an exuberant night out.
"Love/Hate Letter to Alcohol" stands out as a rare instance of exaggeration on an album that otherwise maintains musical compactness. While Post Malone excels at creating catchy hooks, his previous album, "Hollywood's Bleeding" from 2019, suffered from an excess of ideas and genre explorations. Fortunately, on "Twelve Carat Toothache," the good hooks remain, and the album achieves a cohesive mood. Tracks like "Wrapped Around Your Finger" and "I Like You (A Happier Song)" form an irresistible one-two pop combo, as effervescent as Bud Light foam. The former immediately hooks listeners with its chorus, while the latter sees Malone playfully singing, "Your heart's so big, but that ass is huge." Despite his tendency to be crass, this quality is part of his charm—his gift for melody and creating radio hits is unfiltered, and he doesn't need to make his come-ons sound particularly attractive. The raw essence of his personality remains on "Twelve Carat Toothache," though it appears somewhat tamer.
However, the album does have some missteps, particularly clustered toward the end. The songs, even the ones expressing pain, come across as disappointingly saccharine, lacking the strong hooks to compensate for the lack of texture. Generally, Malone's strength doesn't lie in galvanizing with intense emotions or delving into vivid descriptions and minutiae. He shines as a songwriter when he embraces being slightly off-kilter, adding elements of surprise to his pop music. For instance, in "Lemon Tree," he sings, "Some people got an apple/Some people got a tangerine," injecting a refreshing twist. During the album's weaker moments, Malone's typical quirks seem to be missing, like the couplet on "Wasting Angels" where he sings, "This is like when I was sane, before the fame/Uh-oh, uh-oh, this life is crazy." Unfortunately, the absence of these unique touches leaves some tracks feeling lackluster.
Malone possesses a keen understanding of his talents and even acknowledges his limitations, yet there's an unmistakable desire for more—to earn the respect accorded to iconic figures like Kurt Cobain and to break free from the confines imposed by his reputation and success. He's expressed his aspiration to create a concise album without unnecessary filler, a clear indication of an artist aiming for a more enduring and meaningful career. The album's closure with a demo further emphasizes the dedication and thought invested in the entire body of work.
While a touch of gloom adds depth to his music, it is Post Malone's amiable and affable nature that truly defines him. He doesn't hesitate to refer to himself as "that bitch," displaying his trademark humor and self-assuredness. In "Reputation," he pays homage to Cobain by singing, "You're the superstar, entertain us," capturing the weariness that fame can bring. Despite the ups and downs, Malone remains an entertainer at heart—for better or worse, it's an integral part of who he is.
This album is impressive and we are giving it 4 out of 4 stars.