Balloonerism is for Mac Miller masochists

I’d love to say Balloonerism suspends reality for 58 minutes and 42 seconds, creating a space where Mac Miller fans can almost believe he never left. I’d love to say Mac Miller’s second posthumous album lets his voice live on. The sad thing about Balloonerism, however, is that it’s a constant reminder of his death.

There’s no escaping reality with an album like this one — it’s a reckoning of sorts, an eerie reading (and publishing) of a dead man’s diary, moral dilemma and all.

You might be fooled in the beginning, though. “Tambourine Dream,” a 33-second voiceless track, melds into “DJ’s Chord Organ” like an ethereal drum roll. The sound of the organ, the background synth hums, the SZA feature — it creates a portal-like entry into this album. Given the context, it feels surreal. Another Mac album! You wait to hear his voice. 

And then you do — the third song, “Do You Have a Destination,” comes in with a flow reminiscent of Mac’s earliest hits. You might grin. He’s back, just for a moment. But 43 seconds into the song and reality crash-lands: “I gave my life to this s—- / Already killed myself.” 

Thus begins the achy weight of dramatic irony that Balloonerism repeatedly sinks into your chest. Each song has its own verses that hit like pangs of guilt. You — the audience — are in on something that Mac is not. 

And this feeling gets worse. There’s the “Even pills turns to powder /  The world wanna crush ‘em down” of “Mrs. Deborah Downer,” the “If I’m dyin’ young, promise you’ll smile at my funeral” of “Shangri-La,” and perhaps the most heart wrenching, the first verse of “Funny Papers” — “Yeah, somebody died today / I saw his picture in the funny papers / Didn’t think anybody died on a Friday” — which might not be so bad, if Mac Miller hadn’t died on a Friday. But he did. You remember he did, and where you were when you found out. 

The end of the album is emblematic of a theme that pervades the entire album: even death can sound strangely graceful, starting with “Manakins” lyrics, “I see the light at the end of the tunnel / Feels like I’m dyin’, dyin’, dyin’ / I’m dead,” with a harp strumming in the background. “Rick’s Piano” follows, carrying us through a labyrinth of questions: “What does death feel like?” “Why does death steal life?” “Why does death steal light?” You realize Mac got his answer to that first question. Mac Miller is now in on something you — the audience — are not. 

The album ends on a torturous 12-minute-long note, the song “Tomorrow Will Never Know.”  It’s haunting, abstract, and you almost beg for the song to end: there’s discordant sounds, ominous bangs, distant sounds of children on a playground. The lyrics speak for themselves: “You wonder when God will just listen and give you a break / And He says, ‘See, living and dying are one and the same.”

It’s hard to define Balloonerism as anything but heartbreaking and dark. There are definite highlights: “5 Dollar Pony Rides” being a fun one, and the Delusional Thomas cameo in “Transformations” for day-one fans. But the album taken as a whole raises larger questions: Can we truly judge an artist for a work they might have never released? What do we gain from posthumous albums — what do we look for in them?

If you were looking for solace in Balloonerism, you should probably look elsewhere. Just stick to replaying “Best Day Ever” and leave Balloonerism for the masochists.