Floating Through Love, Loss and the In-Between: Mac Miller’s ‘Balloonerism’

For Mac Miller fans, Balloonerism feels like rediscovering a hidden treasure – beautiful, haunting and so deeply human. Recorded in 2014, a tough time in his life, the album captures Mac’s gift for transforming darkness into light and pain into poetry. Released five years after Circles and just before what would have been Mac’s 33rd birthday, it’s a powerful reminder of his lasting impact.

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Balloonerism showcases Mac at his most layered, poetic and self-aware, blending jazz rap and experimental sounds to create a timeless, introspective experience. It’s like opening a time capsule, offering a glimpse into his mind during a psychological low, yet filled with vulnerability and creativity.

Waking up to it on release day, I knew it would be emotional. From the moment I hit play, chills ran through me. This album doesn’t just ask you to listen; it invites you to feel and reflect on its rawness.

Track 2: DJ’s Chord Organ (ft. SZA)

After a short introduction from Tambourine Dream, the album jumps into a hazy, hypnotic organ melody, as if inviting listeners to step into a surreal, dreamlike world. SZA’s vocals float effortlessly above the track, perfectly complementing Mac’s introspective delivery. As they sing, “Watch the world go ‘round, and ‘round, and ‘round,” the line feels like a soothing mantra, yet there’s something disorienting about it too – like you’re caught in the flow of something bigger than you.

What’s crazy about this track is that it was recorded before SZA had even released CTRL, and her raw, neo-soul style with those psychedelic undertones fit perfectly alongside Mac’s vulnerable tone. Their harmonies are so natural, so real. The combination of soft percussion and lush layers creates this rich, immersive soundscape, making it feel like you’re floating with them, like the balloon, drifting further and further into the sky. It’s a beautiful, poignant introduction to the album, setting the tone for everything that follows.

Track 3: Do You Have a Destination?

A standout for its raw lyricism, this track features Mac delivering some of his most introspective bars over a stripped-down, lo-fi beat. The production is minimalist, letting Mac’s voice take center stage as he pours himself into every word. As the track unfolds, faint echoes and warped synths slowly weave their way in, adding a surreal, almost ghostly layer to the song. It’s a gut-punch – a track that feels like Mac is confronting his demons in real-time. 

The line “I gave my life to this, already killed myself” is hauntingly prescient, especially when you know what came later in his life. There’s a sadness in knowing how it ended, and the track feels almost like a reflection on a life cut short. In many ways, this entire album feels eerily prophetic, capturing the pain and disillusionment that Mac was grappling with long before his eventual fate.

Track 4: 5 Dollar Pony Rides

This was the only single released prior to the full album dropping, and it’s a brief but unforgettable burst of sunshine amid the album’s heavier tones. With Thundercat’s effortlessly funky bassline leading the way, the track has a jazzy, bittersweet vibe as Mac taps into his playful side, reflecting on moments of love and connection. There’s a nostalgic wistfulness in his voice as he paints a picture of love in its simplest, purest form.

The instrumentation is vibrant and lush, with saxophone and piano weaving in and out like rays of sunlight cutting through the clouds. This track is a joyful, tender moment in the midst of the introspective and raw themes that dominate the rest of the record. The line, “Your daddy shoulda got you that pony / Let me give you what you want,” carries a sweet, almost childlike earnestness as Mac imagines fulfilling a simple wish for his girl. It’s a lighthearted moment, a reminder of Mac’s ability to turn even the toughest moments into something joyful, showcasing one of his brightest qualities as a musician: finding levity in life’s complexities.

Track 7: Stoned

This track opens with a shimmering guitar riff that immediately grabs your attention, reminiscent of the vibes of Mac’s fourth studio album, The Divine Feminine. Mac’s voice, warm yet fragile, tells a love story tinged with both tenderness and pain. The track captures the complexity of a relationship where escapism through substances creates a paradox, offering temporary solace, but ultimately isolating them from each other. “We shut the world out, but the walls started talking,” he raps, perfectly illustrating the tension between seeking comfort in something destructive and the inevitable consequences that follow.

The production is rich and layered, with strings and reverb-drenched drums adding emotional depth. The song feels like a love ballad, with Mac turning his struggles into beautiful music, a testament to his unique ability to make his pain sound beautiful. One of my personal favorites off the album, “Stoned” lays bare the delicate balance between love and addiction.

The lyrics, like, “She hates that she cries when she's all by herself / And she's always all by herself,” paint a vivid picture of the isolation that comes with addiction, while still holding onto the fragile hope that love could somehow make it better. It’s a hauntingly beautiful exploration of how love can both heal and hurt, with Mac’s vulnerability shining through.

Track 8: Shangri-La

One of the album’s most meditative tracks, “Shangri-La” feels like a spiritual successor to Swimming, Mac’s fifth studio album. His vocals are soft, almost otherworldly, as he reflects on life’s fragility and the beauty of the unknown. With lines like, “If I die young, promise to smile at my funeral,” his voice carries a mix of resignation and hope, capturing the complexity of accepting mortality while still holding onto a sense of peace.

The production is ethereal, with airy synths and a gentle bassline that feels like it’s floating on water, perfectly mirroring the track's reflective and serene mood. “Shangri-La” strikes a delicate balance between humor and heartbreak, creating one of the album’s most poignant moments.

In a continuation of the spiritual themes in his later-released work, Mac sings, “The weather’s nice today, what a perfect day to die,” again contemplating death, not as a despairing thought, but with a certain calm acceptance. While these sentiments might be seen as signs of suicidal ideation, they also reflect a harsh reality that many people struggle with. Mac’s openness in expressing these vulnerable feelings is a key reason why he built such a devoted fanbase, one that has continued to sustain his legacy long after his passing. “Shangri-La” offers listeners a bittersweet moment of connection with Mac's deepest thoughts and emotions.

Track 9: Funny Papers 

This song stands out as one of the most mature and complete tracks on Balloonerism. The intro alone – “Did no one ever teach you how to dance? / Nobody ever taught you how to dance? / Well, well, everyone knows how to dance / There's only so much time,” immediately pulls you in. The nonchalance with which Mac delivers these lines gives the sense that he’s reflecting on the fleeting nature of time, and that feeling only deepens as the song unfolds.

One of the most haunting lines on the track comes when Mac says, “Didn’t think anyone died on a Friday.” Mac passed away on a Friday, September 7, 2018, and hearing him reflect on mortality with such calmness feels almost like a chilling premonition. It’s as if, in a way, Mac is breaking the fourth wall and speaking directly to us from beyond, making the listening experience even more personal and raw.

Funny Papers encapsulates the bittersweet nature of life, offering both a sense of acceptance and a profound reflection on impermanence. The phrase “funny papers,” referring to the comic section of the newspaper, captures a simplicity that contrasts with the deeper themes explored in the song. As Mac raps, “Why does it matter at all?” it’s as if he’s confronting the fleeting and transient nature of everything, suggesting that while life’s struggles feel heavy, they too are temporary.

The track is a deep cut, with twinkling pianos and boom-bap drums, creating a mellow vibe that’s both laid-back and introspective. The snappy hook – “If I could just pay my rent by Tuesday, I bet I’d be rich by April Fools’ day, the moon’s wide awake with a smile on his face, as he smuggles constellations in his suitcase,” feels like a playful metaphor for the absurdity and fleeting joy of life. It’s these subtle moments, scattered throughout the album, that make Balloonerism such a comforting and easy album to return to, as it balances heavy introspection with lighthearted observations.

Track 13: Rick’s Piano

A masterclass in emotional storytelling, ‘Rick’s Piano’ offers a sense of hope amidst an album filled with themes of addiction, depression and loss. It opens with a light, almost whimsical piano melody, and a Rick Rubin-inspired knock-knock joke creating a sense of nostalgia, as if it’s a distant memory Mac is revisiting. But as the song unfolds, the mood shifts, transitioning into something deeper and eerily prophetic.

Rick Rubin’s production is both subtle and powerful, with layers of strings and percussion building to a cathartic crescendo. The refrain, “The best is yet to come,” feels like a warm, reassuring mantra, urging listeners to find peace and hope in the present moment. It’s a powerful reminder of Mac’s philosophy, even in the face of life’s difficulties. The track closes with the haunting refrain, “What does death feel like? Why does death steal life?”– questions that reflect the complexity of his inner turmoil, but in a way that feels more spiritual than depressive.

This song captures Mac’s journey towards self-awareness and peace, guided by Rubin, who helped Mac find solace through meditation. It’s an exploration of death, not from a place of despair, but from a more mature, spiritual perspective – something rare for someone so young.

In many ways, this track feels like a semi-farewell to the album, leaving listeners with more questions than closure about Mac’s tragic passing. Yet, it still offers a bittersweet sense of peace and reflection. “Rick’s Piano” is a song I wasn’t prepared for on a record like this, but it’s one of the most beautiful and moving moments on the album.

Track 14: Tomorrow Will Never Know

The closer is an emotional tour de force, an emotional and haunting finale that leaves you in complete silence. The track begins with a slow, introspective verse, with Mac’s voice barely above a whisper, reflecting on his legacy, the fleeting nature of life and the struggles he faced. His words linger in the air, pulling you deeper into his emotional world. But as the music fades, something unsettling happens – the sound of an unanswered telephone begins to ring. The relentless chimes echo into an unbroken silence – some fans interpreted this as calls for help that went unanswered, while others believe it may be a reference to Ariana Grande, who reportedly tried calling Mac’s phone 928 times after his passing.

The nearly 12-minute track feels like an emotional weight that builds and then dissolves into nothingness. The prolonged silence that follows Mac’s voice feels deafening. It forces you to confront the absence of someone so vibrant and full of life, someone whose presence is now gone, leaving behind only this echo. It’s not just the sound of the unanswered phone, but the silence that amplifies the weight of Mac’s death, creating an emotional stillness that’s almost impossible to process.

The lyrics that remain with you long after the music fades – “You walk through this world with your head above water… trying to float,” feel like Mac’s final goodbye. There’s something haunting about how this line lingers, encapsulating the feeling of trying to survive in a world that can sometimes feel overwhelming. The entire closer is hard to hear, but it’s also cathartic, offering a raw sense of closure that feels both intentional and organic. 

The existential triptych that closes out the album forces listeners to sit with the pain and loss, but also reflects a profound and beautiful journey of reflection and release. It’s a truly heart-wrenching but necessary end to a heavy album, and it leaves you in a state of stunned silence, grappling with the magnitude of Mac’s absence.

This album truly brought me to tears. The level of vulnerability not only resonates with Mac’s audience but also shows that people of all ages – both younger and older generations are not alone in the challenges they face.

Posthumous albums can be tricky to navigate, but Balloonerism is set apart from the rest because of the immense care with which it was crafted. The production stays true to Mac’s vision, avoiding the pitfalls of overproduction or unnecessary alterations. The result is an album that feels cohesive, authentic, and respectful of Mac’s artistry.

Six years after his passing, Balloonerism serves as a reminder of Mac Miller’s unparalleled artistry. It’s a record that will break your heart and heal it, leaving you grateful for the moments he shared with the world. This isn’t just an album – it’s an emotional journey, a time capsule and a testament to his enduring legacy.