[Editor Note: We wrote a review for Mac Miller’s Swimming a month ago. Click here to read our review. We really liked it.]
Back in 2011, a white, very-Eminem-looking rapper released Blue Slide Park. That album sold a preposterous number of copies considering it was an independently distributed LP. In the SoundCloud/Spotify age, it’s the sort of thing that could be done easily. Back then, it signalled a phenom. And so, Mac Miller became a thing.
And it was a weird thing. Miller was buoyed by the support of millions of college frat-boys. He was making easy-to-listen rap music, not dissimilar to early-career Childish Gambino. He was hated by critics, but adored by your forever-stoned scraggly white friend majoring in arts. A Pittsburgh native; he had the same effortless charm as Wiz Khalifa.
So it seemed for a while that would be Miller’s fate – a backpack, rap-lite version of Eminem who could crank out daunting numbers and probably nab a couple pop-rap features. Only that wasn’t quite what Miller wanted. After he released Blue Slide Park to gaudy numbers and critical panning, it was revealed by his management that he became deeply depressed because of the criticism. He clearly took it to heart, even if he had garnered nationwide support. And what proceeded was one of the more unlikely turns in any artists’ career.
Miller started hanging out with different people. He became very good friends with rap purists Earl Sweatshirt and Vince Staples. He parsed beats off alt-weirdos like Flying Lotus and Clams Casino. Although Miller had the white-boy charm to crossover into the pop world, he seemed to be receding to the underground. In 2014, he released Watching Movies With The Sound Off, which marked a jaw-dropping leap in artistry. It turned out that not only could Miller make a hooky track, he could also follow rhyme schemes, and his writing had improved monumentally. He was no longer Easy Mac with the cheesy raps.
A number of mixtapes and a couple of albums followed. Miller’s sound drifted closer to jazz and neo-soul – he released the incessantly catchy, gloriously corny ‘Dang‘ with Anderson .Paak. He began dating Ariana Grande. Things were looking sky-high, even if Mac always cut a forlorn figure, surrounded by drugs, depression and trepidation.
And then he broke up with Grande and was involved in a DUI. Things weren’t going so well. He appeared to slide into the shadows until the release of single ‘Self Care’ and then the release of his latest album, Swimming. But that song and the resulting album painted a vivid picture.
If you haven’t yet heard Swimming, we suggest you do. It’s not as sonically creative as some of Miller’s other work, or as densely-written as Watching Movies With The Sound Off. It doesn’t feel grandoise or earth-conquering, or like it was meant to be Mac’s Big Album. But it’s the most honest piece of work he ever did – painfully honest. It will feel instantly relatable to anyone who has suffered through a breakup and felt like they got the raw end.
Swimming feels like the first piece of work from Miller that wasn’t specifically designed to be a success. Some tracks meander for too long and there are very few bright moments. But the writing on the record is cutting – the best he ever produced. ‘Dunno’ is a gut-wrenching track, clearly an ode to Grande, where he almost appears to be begging her to come back, even if it is only to make him happy for a little longer. Even ‘Hurt Feelings’, one of the more upbeat numbers, has a gloomy message behind it (“they always saying I won’t change but, I ain’t the same”). This is an album from a person in a very dark headspace.
But the message behind the album is brighter than that. The ‘Swimming’ theme is meant to signify the next step from drowning. Miller knew he was in a dark place, but he was fighting and treading water to get out of it. There are glimpses on the album that reveal it, none moreso than the beautiful, soaring outro on closer ‘So It Goes’. You can hear him figuring himself out as the album goes, as if he knows he just needs a bit more time to grieve and process. That thought makes his passing even sadder.
Swimming feels less like a rap album and more like a coming-of-age. Mac raps, of course, but even his rapping is slow and stilted most of the time – he doesn’t care about punchlines or tweetable lyrics. He sings when he wants, and it’s a beautiful raspy croak that sounds so natural. He sounds a mile away from Blue Slide Park. It’s the type of album an artist makes when they stop worrying about label executives. It’s unapologetically honest and said – not once does he act too proud to admit he’s alone and sad. Other people resist having that conversation with themselves, let alone releasing it to the world.
Swimming showed that Mac had started to figure out life – that we struggle and suffer most of the time, for the slight hope that we might come out the other side. On the album, you can hear him peaking through the cracks. He knew there was a way through, he just didn’t quite know how to get there. He never would. It’s a tragedy – not just for him, but for his family, and for Grande, who must have a million thoughts running through her head right now. Mac never made it past the struggle. But we can at least say that he tried. And we owe it to people like him to keep trying ourselves.
THE MIDNIGHT SPECIAL 