SWAG

For most of its 50-plus-minute runtime, Bieber appears, finally, entirely unencumbered. .... When Bieber dissociates into safe territory, alongside rappers Gunna, Sexyy Red, and Cash Cobain, on a trio of totally adequate but otherwise impersonal, paint-by-numbers R&B love songs, the specter of an algorithmic Spotify playlist looms. .... SWAG’s riskiest and most unexpected, are its most rewarding.

The musical energy and imagination here is Bieber at his most confident.

Swag has moments of brilliance, but this is no long-awaited masterpiece.

Swag is a perfectly decent record, albeit one that lacks lyrical flair, emotional depth or any sense of responsibility.

In the end, its sheer creativity and daring means that ‘SWAG’ (just about) justifies its breadth. 21-tracks of frequent daring, this Justin Bieber’s testimony, for better or worse.

As a whole, though, ‘Swag’ often feels poorly edited, its 21 tracks accumulating into a directionless slog. The production may have its moments, but the lyrics rarely deliver the depth to match.

One of those songs, "Daisies," also involves the unmistakable Mk.gee, and for Bieber it's a career highlight, a gentle rocker conveying an ultra-rare combination of anticipation, patience, and empathy. More often, Bieber's direct and inelegant wordplay is at odds with the hazy sonics.

If you’re a longstanding Belieber by this point, you’re probably used to the tonal shifts of his adult material. But, outside of his hardcore devotees, Bieber remains more of a curiosity than a consistent, coherent creative force – Swag won’t do much to change the conversation.

Less the return of a pop titan, Swag feels like a cry to be heard. At times it’s uncomfortable, messy and a little confused – but perhaps after all this time, music is the only thing Justin Bieber knows will make people listen. Whether he has anything worth saying is another matter though.

There are a few gems in this swag bag, including “Butterflies”—with its infectious blend of shimmery guitars, reverb-doused vocals, and shuffling drum loops—and the Jack Johnson-adjacent “Devotion.” .... At 21 tracks, though, Swag’s featherweight R&B and what we used to call “baby making jams” start to run together.

Swag is a happy medium between an imitation of Bieber’s idols and a recognition of his strengths as a pop artist.

What distinguishes “Swag” from “Journals” and “Changes” is that this album feels much rawer and more improvisatory than the earlier ones; the production throughout is murky and smeared, and the record includes a couple of demo-like tracks. .... Shaggy, disarming, often quite beautiful.

Most of the sturdiest music on “Swag” is on the first half; the second half is a scattershot amalgam mostly consisting of vocal demos with lyrics that feel incomplete, or at least understudied, and humor skits about Bieber’s relationship to Black culture, featuring the comedian Druski.

SWAG is Justin Bieber’s latest quest to prove his personhood. While it’s up to us to listen, it’s ultimately up to Justin to find an approach that works in his best interests. Until Bieber figures out what business he’s actually standing on, he’ll keep making albums that sound like expensive identity crises.