It finally makes sense.
For a while, I didn’t know that much about Post Malone. All I knew was how controversial he is, and how he looks like a genie turned alcoholism into a person.
He recently released his sophomore album, beerbongs & bentleys, and it's demolishing records with a sledgehammer. It even broke a record set by The Beatles, further proving my lifelong belief that Ringo is an annoying little fuckboy.
Since I had only heard his most popular material, I introduced myself to his art by sinking my teeth into beerbongs & bentleys, trying to understand the man behind the eyeball tattoos. Listening to this album is like taking a shot of Jägermeister for the first time—it’s equal parts fun, confusing, and depressing.
I actually loved the album, and I see why it’s doing such huge numbers. He has a gift for hypnotic melodies. I actually think Post Malone is one of the more creative mainstream musicians today. It’s a controversial but accurate statement, like saying people with anime profile pictures shouldn't be allowed to vote.
While the album’s title would seem to indicate the music is nothing but shallow party records for frat bros to listen to while they jack off to pictures of protein drinks, that couldn't be further from the truth. Sure, some of the songs will make you wanna take more shots to the head than JFK (“rockstar,” “Psycho”) but the majority of the album will make you sadder than a Kanye fan in 2018 (“Paranoid,” “Jonestown (Interlude)”). Full of warbled crooning about past flames, b&b is a trippy carnival ride through Malone’s hectic mind.
I didn't just enjoy the album, either. I also related to it… on an uncomfortable level. I felt a paralyzingly deep connection to the themes of excess, ego, heartbreak, and paranoia.
In turn, this dragged me into a bombshell epiphany that shattered my universe: Post Malone is my long-lost brother. Deep down I always knew, but I've been in denial about it for years. Maybe that explains my initial animosity towards him.
We have the same unstable, reckless personalities (“Spoil My Night,” “Takin Shots”), the same warfare with depression (“Otherside,” “Stay”) and the same type of bitter pettiness (“Over Now,” “Better Now”). Plus, “Sugar Wraith” contains an interpolation of “Fly” by Sugar Ray; only someone in my family would do something as white as that.
On “Over Now,” an aggressively cocky breakup anthem, he expresses the type of legendary pettiness that I thought only I was capable of. He angrily boasts, “I’ma pull up in a Bentley with a fuckin' hundred thousand in my pocket” and “I’ma put that bitch pussy in a motherfuckin' bodybag, so you know that I'm never ever coming back.” I’m the same exact way, but for me, it’s more like, “I’ma pull up in an Uber pool with $5 in my pocket” and “I’ma make that bitch feel kinda okay for probably around two minutes.”
“Stay” is the highlight of the album, a vulnerable acoustic ballad full of uncertainty. Malone belts, “Everybody’s blind when the view's amazing,” sounding completely defeated. The song is beautiful and heartbreaking. The lyrics sound like something an emo kid would carve into a tree while screaming “I HATE THIS TOWN” at his fifth stepdad. I’d like to think “Stay” is the type of song I would have made if I hadn’t quit my first guitar lesson after noticing my instructor had a Limp Bizkit T-shirt.
Malone groans, “I wake up everyday with this anxiety” and “struggling just to find my peace” on the album opener, “Paranoid,” which rang too true and tugged at my heartstrings like a Vegas ventriloquist. On “Same Bitches,” he vents, “I’ve been out in LA too long, I see the same bitches everywhere I go.” I’ve been in LA for three years and I feel the same way since I keep getting catfished on Tinder by the same German dude named Anton. And for what it’s worth, his 2016 hit “I Fall Apart” perfectly describes how I felt after I saw Infinity War.
I haven’t been this sure of myself since I said “Hillary’s gonna win this thing.” This man is my biological brother.
The only reasonable explanation for our separation all these years is things got mixed up in the hospital where he was born and the wrong set of parents took him home. Therefore we never crossed paths. He became a musician and I became a stand-up comic. He’s “fuckin' hoes and poppin' pillies” and I'm popping Zoloft and making love (as long as she’s not tired and doesn’t have to get up early for work).
And then there’s also the fact that Post and I look EXACTLY alike. I mean, we have the same exact features.
- ......OK, that’s it.
So, Post, I'd like to officially welcome you to the Landry family. Thanksgiving is gonna be fuckin' insane this year.
Also, bro, I know it might be a bad time to ask, but…. I need some money.