

It is an immaculate pop construction, and the words-“You’re friends with all my demons/The only one that sees them/Too bad for you”-are just delivery systems for the thrill.
#Staring at the sun post malone plus
He uses all three of those voices plus a surprisingly lithe falsetto on “Allergic,” which features a chorus that feels like a down-the-middle split between 2003 Fall Out Boy, 2002 Weezer, and 1983 Billy Joel. He is also a sneakily agile singer, switching from red-faced howling to smoky crooning to something warbly and strange in between these two poles. 1 at the beginning of this year, shows up again outside of last year’s Spider-Man: Into the Spider-Verse soundtrack, and its presence here among all these other soon-to-be Top 10 hits feels almost like arm-twisting. Hollywood’s Bleeding has about 10 titanium-grade hooks on it, choruses so immediate they erect stadiums in your head while they play-“I’m Gonna Be,” “Staring at the Sun,” “Allergic,” Enemies,” “Myself,” “Wow.” He seems to almost belch these out: “Got so many hits, can’t remember ’em all/While I’m taking a shit, look at the plaques on the wall,” he yawns charmingly on “On the Road.” “ Sunflower,” his Swae Lee duet that hit No. Each one sounds like it could furnish a down payment on a personal helipad.

But Post Malone’s choruses are just stupefyingly good. Yes, the lyrics can be infuriatingly lazy, particularly when he’s tracing over hip-hop tropes about the Mille on his wrist or the 50 carats on his fist. There could be, and have been, far worse pop hegemonies, and in a few years, when his cherubic-face-tatted mug has receded somewhat, the virtues of his music will become more apparent. But if you can wriggle free from all that for just a moment, there is a lot to appreciate in his music. He is kind of a sentient keg stand he has a pretty lazy and unexamined relationship with hip-hop there is strong evidence that he might not exactly be the sort of person who thinks through his actions. There are plenty of valid reasons to bemoan his dominance.
