It’s these moments on Balloonerism that make me consider Miller’s far-too-derided frat-rap days. There was a disappointment that lurked within the songs about partying, getting excessive, and by no means eager to develop up, and his happiness by no means disappeared even when his lyric sheets grew extra lurid and harmful. Miller was all the time each, and Balloonerism expresses his duality, the best way that he might sound like he was smiling, opening up, and really having time amid some grey clouds. Right here is somebody who, only a few years earlier than rapping, “Wealthy as fuck and depressing,” on “Do You Have a Vacation spot?,” was singing, “Life couldn’t get higher/This gon’ be the very best day ever.”
The downcast but charming temper is especially acute throughout the spare Balloonerism, particularly in distinction to Miller’s different extra fleshed-out tasks. Most songs on the album are constructed round keys, bass, drums, and Miller’s vocals, with the gentlest contact of further manufacturing by Thundercat, Ronald and Jameel Bruner, and Taylor Graves, to deliver the tracks to life. The dusty, soulful beats hold issues mild even in darker moments. A music like “Shangri-La” gestures towards heaviness, however there’s not sufficient weight to pull it down. Miller, in his pitched-down voice, raps on that observe, “If I’m dying younger, promise you’ll smile at my funeral,” however it comes off regular, matter-of-fact, and he balances out his considering with, “Dwell your life ’trigger you may lose tomorrow.” The music, with drums that don’t observe any guidelines and vibrant synths that pop up once they please, appears like a reminiscence of day, distorted from one thing that was as soon as peaceable into one thing extra ethereal.
Balloonerism, having not been formed for business launch, is principally an album made completely of deep cuts, the little moments the place you are feeling like your favourite artist is making one thing particularly for you as a result of they’re actually simply making it for themselves—like when Miller opens “Humorous Papers” by asking in a foolish, old-Hollywood voice, “Did nobody ever train you learn how to dance?” The intimacy makes the album a snug and comforting pay attention, a small portrait of a crestfallen man, not some maudlin assortment from a beloved artist gone too quickly. Miller was a pure melodicist, a fascinating vocalist, and an evocative songwriter, all of that are right here on show. It’s a temper piece, and the temper is good and sedate.
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