Post Malone, “Twelve Carat Toothache.”

Twelve Carat Toothache by Post Malone is an appropriately titled album that seems to focus on the whiny ramblings of a wealthy singer oozing with glitz. The album, his fourth, is all style, no substance. It would be dismissive to write off the problems of someone successful merely because they’re successful.

When Polo G, Meek Mill or any other number of rappers speak about their mental health and how fame has impacted them, it feels substantial. Post Malone doesn’t seem to even be trying beyond capturing a superficial veneer introspection into his psyche. Rather than tackling issues in a meaningful way, he offers high production quality and adjusted vocals.

Reverb-laden piano opens “Reputation” as Austin Richard Post croons with a solemn and soulful melody. He waxes about the emotional martyrdom that comes with stardom. The synths and percussion follow suit. “Cooped Up” brings Roddy Ricch into the mix over another piano melody with ambient tones in the background. In the span of one verse, Post Malone proceeds to go from talking about returning to performing to his Bud Light endorsement, drug use and being raided by police while flexing his luxury clothes. Roddy’s verse about is about realizing his career success coming up from life in the projects.

“Lemon Tree” sees Posty take the lemons/lemonade metaphor into a weirdly narcissistic direction. He visualizes his fans as a sort of lemon tree, bearing him sour fruit, while those around him bear sweeter fruit. His response? “Guess I’m shit outta luck, growing a lemon tree/ I’m gonna burn it down and grow me something better.” This comes from an artist who’s been called out for appropriating hip-hop. He’s backhandedly dismissing the fanbase he cultivated, from the same culture with which he continues to engage.

The playful, plucky bass melody that picks up alongside the keyboard on “Wrapped Around Your Finger” create for a nice, upbeat song. Post Malone develops briefly a sense of self-awareness as he finds himself smitten with a woman who’s unimpressed with his celebrity and wealth. However, a pattern emerges here, appearing on several songs throughout this album like “I Like You (A Happier Song)” and “Insane.” He fixates on individual women while reminding listeners and the subject of his desires that he’s got plenty of women around still clawing at him. So much for self-awareness.

On “I Like You (A Happier Song)” he expresses his love for a woman in his entourage, relishing in the connections they form traveling around the world and living in the lap of luxury. Doja Cat makes an appearance on this track, expressing desires for a sort of no-strings-attached ordeal. The song is sharply contrasted by the following “I Cannot Be (A Sadder Song).” Post Malone and Gunna express frustrations with their partners who they find are holding them back creatively and as people. The song, with pinging and washed-out tones gliding over snares, could have been a tongue-in-cheek affair. But it’s entirely sincere.

Strip club anthem “Insane” is one of the shallowest songs on the album. Post Malone becomes cartoonishly lustful (think Barney Stinson from “How I Met Your Mother” but without the charm). “Love/Hate Letter to Alcohol” similarly nears parody, as he sings about getting so blackout-drunk that he ruins every night and winds up with teeth missing—all while he wails the song title over the chorus. His articulation of dependency issues is juvenile: “You’re the reason I got my ass kicked/ But you’re the only way to drown my sadness/ This is my love/hate letter out to alcohol.”

The Kid Laroi makes an appearance on the lackluster “Wasting Angels,” over another keyboard melody following a largely aimless verse from Post Malone about getting high. It’s at this point that he transitions from being directionless and superficial to pretentious and callous, leaning into themes of suicidal ideation and fetishizing the depressive mindset.

“Euthanasia” opens with the strike of an detuned piano key, reminiscent of Ye’s “Runaway.” Posty sings about his decaying state as a result of not caring for himself. He dreams of being euthanized, playing it up as “painless” with all the tact of a sledgehammer slamming a square peg through a round hole. You have to wonder what he knows about assisted suicide or its implications.

Then things get rougher with “Waiting For a Miracle.”

The song opens with Post Malone contemplating suicide with a gun, but not going through with it because, “I understand that I’m too weak.” What a reductive and recklessly written lyric, playing on tired and problematic cliches about depression and suicide being tied to weakness. You’re either weak because you want to go through with suicide, or you’re too weak to pull the trigger. This is not a great message and the opposite of what someone contemplating suicide needs or wants to hear.

The high point of the album comes far too late, on penultimate track “One Right Now.” Post Malone teams up with The Weeknd to deliver an ’80s-style synth track that feels more like a cut song from the latter’s album. It’s stylistically more interesting and is better written than the rest of Twelve Carat Toothache. The pair sings about being used by the women around them—developing toxic relationships that can’t be maintained. The album concludes with “New Recording 12, Jan 3, 2020,” a demo recording of “Euthanasia,” with Post Malone singing over an acoustic guitar.

Twelve Carat Toothache feels underdeveloped at times and dangerous to listeners at others.Its shallow appeal to the angst and melancholic sentiments of a teenager going through mood swings doesn’t hold up, even with all the best production in the world.

Follow hip-hop critic Tim Hoffman at Twitter.com/hipsterp0tamus.