Mac Miller

(This article’s English version was produced with AI-assisted translation)

Preceded by a few reissues of mixtapes, in 2025 comes Mac Miller’s second posthumous album, "Baloonerism". Chronologically, it falls within the same period as "Faces" (2014) and embraces the psychedelic spirit of that phase in the rapper’s career, while also revealing a more melancholic side. Already the focus of fans' attention, who have listened to unofficial versions circulating online over the years, it includes a collaboration with SZA and the appearance of his alter ego Delusional Thomas.
The delicate work on the material aimed to preserve its original nature, without smoothing out too many rough edges in tracks that had not yet been completed at the time of the artist’s death in 2018, at just 26 years old.

A brief introduction, and the liturgy of “DJ's Chord Organ” (featuring SZA; DJ stands for Daniel Johnston) begins, seemingly emerging from another world, with angelic voices, before transforming into a sensual, hallucinatory funk-pop-rap, ending in a funeral-like coda. It’s an excellent way to introduce a multifaceted album, one that frequently shifts in tone and mood, revealing unexpected developments that bridge very different aesthetics: cloud rap with psych-rock, R&B with neo-soul, abstract rap with conscious and emo rap. A refined and sophisticated album, it occasionally drifts towards jazz (“5 Dollar Pony Rides”) and even nods to the West Coast sound in the chirping synths of “Friendly Hallucinations.” It’s a sweet, desperate confusion, as summarized by a few lines from “Mrs. Deborah Downer”:

All roads lead to the same confusion
I mean, all roads lead to the same conclusions

The journey, as in "Circles," is a single creative flow—or, if you prefer, a single trip that at times intensifies (“Shangri-La”; “Transformations,” where the alter ego Delusional Thomas returns) and at other times bends toward a dreamlike everyday life (“Funny Papers”; the memory of “Excelsior”). There’s no need for much speculation to sense the shadow of death in these tracks—just read lines like those from “Manakins” (“It feels like I'm dyin'”). Yet, that doesn’t mean despair prevails; on the contrary, a dream is always around the corner, fueled by an enchanting hope, like the one emerging from Rick Rubin’s piano in “Rick's Piano.”

The finale is entrusted to the long “Tomorrow Will Never Know,” his psychedelic masterpiece, which closes the album with a creative surge, making it impossible to consider this work as anything less than exceptional. Mac Miller’s second posthumous album, managing to merge "Faces" and "Circles," concludes with 12 minutes that blend his unique melancholic psychedelic pop-rap with dreamlike and unsettling atmospheres reminiscent of a David Lynch film. The final questions encapsulate this mix of anguish and dream, imagining life after death:

Do they dream just like we do?
Do they love just like we do?

"Baloonerism," produced mainly by Mac Miller himself, along with significant contributions from friends and collaborators like Thundercat—also fundamental for the bass lines—is a punch to the gut. Its long coda, dissolving emotion into a chaotic and cacophonous brass band sound, painfully nostalgic and reminiscent of the monumental "Everywhere At The End of Time", ends with a phrase that sounds like an epitaph: “Give you a chance to start over.” Then a phone keeps ringing, but no one will ever answer.

05/02/2025