Justin Bieber‘s seventh studio album landed on streaming platforms last night seemingly out of thin air. In one day, the pop superstar quietly launched a new fashion brand Skylrk (after publicly stepping down from his previous one, Drew House), and with no drawn-out promotional run, announced his first album in four years — pointedly titled “Swag.”
But the 21-song record is no impulsive drop. Bieber has been in the studio for a while, curating a well-rounded roster of collaborators: longtime producer Harv, Carter Lang (SZA) and Eddie Benjamin, among others. The album also takes sonic cues from guitar-centric innovator Mk.gee (heavily, at that) and Dijon, while securing features from Lil B, Gunna, Sexyy Red and Cash Cobain.
When Bieber started teasing the album just hours before its release, reactions were polarized: some anticipated a masterpiece, others a disaster. The truth? It lands somewhere in between Bieber’s greatness and his proclivity to give in to his artistic impulses, for better or worse, existing in a pocket of R&B that can often feel aimless but is nevertheless intentional.
Now 31, Bieber occupies a rare tier of pop stardom. Sheer longevity and global name recognition afford him a level of creative freedom that some never reach. Like his peers — Ariana Grande, for instance, or a veteran like Justin Timberlake — Bieber has the artistic luxury to experiment. Whether that leads to reinvention or self-indulgence can depend on the execution, and on “Swag,” it often teeters between both.
Since the release of “Justice” in 2021, Bieber has undergone a public transformation. He became a father; severed ties with longtime manager Scooter Braun in 2023; scrapped his 2022 tour amid reports of “alleged financial distress; and was diagnosed with a neurological disorder. More recently, there’s been widespread speculation about his mental health, fueled by his erratic social media posts and viral paparazzi run-ins (two of which are sampled across the album).
On “Swag,” the most revealing insights into his state of mind come in the form of interludes featuring Internet personality Druski, who bizarrely plays the role of voice of reason… for whatever reason. On “Therapy Session,” he suggests Bieber’s cryptic online behavior is just trolling. Bieber’s response carries more weight: “People are always askin’ if I’m okay… it starts to make me feel like I’m the one with issues and everyone else is perfect.”
But aside from these brief glimpses into the rationale behind a persona that’s drawn endless speculation, “Swag” largely forgoes self-reflection for his devotion to his wife Hailey and son Jack. The record is a love letter to the responsibility of family and the emotions it elicits, largely in a positive light and, by design or not, countering the tabloid narrative that their marriage has been rocky.
On “Walking Away,” a rare respite from the more doting records, he admits he’s not the best husband, reaffirming his commitment to do and be better — a promise he made when he first proposed marriage. But he spends much of the record traipsing the opposite end of the spectrum: On “Too Long,” for instance, he praises her ability to “do me like magic” and “keep on strokin’ my ego.” On the romance-fueled “Go Baby,” he describes her as “iconic,” even giving her billion-dollar cosmetics company a shout out.
Musically, the album evokes the sounds of late ’80s R&B and early ’90s pop, with his silky vocals doing a lot of the heavy lifting. It’s not a return to the “Journals”-era R&Bieber of 2013, but it’s some of his most impassioned work in recent years, rooted in the Usher school of R&B and pop balladry. Opener “All I Can Take” brims with Michael Jackson-esque syncopated drums and vocal urgency. Follow-ups “Daisies” and “Yukon” have a fresh energy, guided by Mk.gee-infused guitar textures and spacious R&B backdrops.
Mk.gee’s influence is felt heavily throughout “Swag,” though his contributions can often feel less exciting than the more attention-building hooky moments on songs like “Sweet Spot,” where Bieber flexes with smoothness and precision — that is, until Sexyy Red comes crashing in, throwing off the mood completely. Still, the most potent parts of the album lean into what has always worked best for him: rhythm, moderation and soul. This much is clear on “Glory Voice Memo,” a raw snippet of Bieber seemingly recording a moment of vocal exultation. Druski chimes in again with a line that’s as ridiculous as it is oddly sincere: “Your skin white, but your soul black, Justin, I promise you.”
This record may be merely a prelude (a reverse Miley Cyrus, if you will, who recently teased that her latest “Something Beautiful” is teeing up a more experimental record), with rumors swirling that a more traditional pop album is already in the works. But more than a decade after his debut, he remains relentless in his pursuit of artistic greatness. He doesn’t quite reach it on “Swag,” but he does stretch his creative boundaries, landing on something messier and challenging yet, above all, inarguably intriguing.