Last year we checked in on Hoodie Allen, who was just beginning to emerge from a three year hiatus. Be it for personal or public reasons, Hoodie went underground and emerged different. He had struggled with infidelity, a breakup, a steady loss of critical success, grooming allegations, and perhaps even a bit of confusion about his musical and personal place in the world. We wondered if after all of this, had he changed, or just his music?  

Hoodie – whose real-life alter-ego, Steven Markowitz, left behind a very different career at Google before pursuing music – entered the “frat rap” scene in the early 2010s to inject a bit of exuberance, joy, and angst into the experience of being a 20-something white boy. Hoodie’s music wasn’t quite the self-referential satire of Ben Folds’ “Rockin’ the Suburbs” (“Y’all don’t know what it’s like” / “Being male, middle-class and white”) but what it lacked it subtlety, it made up by not taking itself too seriously. Hoodie’s music had an almost naive joy and appreciation for enjoying what you enjoy and having fun while doing it. In an era where a lot of music had to be about “something,” be it protest, injustice, love, or – increasingly – politics, Hoodie’s music just let you tune it out and have a good time. As perhaps the preeminent music journalist who exclusively covers Hoodie Allen, and seeking to take myself less seriously as well, I have always insisted that this was all ultimately a strength of his work. But it was something he seemed to lose as he and his music matured.

His attitude, sound, and music had changed in the first couple of singles preceding his forthcoming album, bub. That was especially true in the second single, “Call Me Never,” which we got an early peek at last year. Out were the anthemic, sociable, pump-up songs for which Hoodie earned his fame – in was this Blink-182-inspired punk track that, while novel for Hoodie, failed to stand out in the grand scheme of music. By hopping on the rap to pop-punk trend, Hoodie’s joined the list of artists like Machine Gun Kelly seeking to – for no discernible reason – make it in a genre of monotonous male artists who fail to meaningfully differentiate their sound. Even if Hoodie arrived at this sonic change organically, brought about by some personal journey necessitating a new musical destination, it felt like a transition to mediocrity.

At the time, one could not help but wonder whether this musical transition – towards music that seemed, if nothing else, more introspective and passion-driven than frat rap – was indicative of his own personal introspection and transformation. With some hesitant optimism that Hoodie Allen had grown both as a person and as an artist, I anxiously awaited the forthcoming album. Now that bub, Hoodie’s fifth studio album, is out, did he live up to it?

In general, bub is overproduced, adolescent, and spiteful. But it’s also a refreshing palate cleanser from Hoodie’s last two albums, and features some of the best songs he’s released in years. Its 23-minute runtime across eight songs allow for some songs to shine compared to the lengthier, more tedious couple of albums which preceded it.

Though the pop-punk influence is hard to ignore, especially compared to his hit singles of the last decade, Hoodie Allen deep cut fanatics (if you too own an autographed copy of Hoodie’s The Hype, you are included in this) won’t find the stylistic difference jarring. The pop-punk-heavy songs, while not the strongest songs on the album, provide a welcome reprieve from the tedious deluge of frat rap singles that made Hoodie’s last couple of albums a bit monotonous.

This allows songs like “Sabotage” or instant Hoodie classic “Happy Again” to shine through. Sure, they’re more emotive and a bit underwhelming compared to Hoodie’s bangers of the early 2010s, but they at least provide some interesting musical directions for an artist stuck in a sonic rut, or – in his personal case – recovering from a bad relationship. They don’t quite bring the songwriting or personal maturity that a longtime follower of his catalog and career may want to see, but at least one of them is miles ahead of the best songs on his last two albums. Highlighting Hoodie’s unsuspectingly sufficient vocal range and knack for lines that stick in your mind, both of these songs – particularly the emo-pop “Happy Again” – finally allow some catharsis and self-reflection (“I leaned on every one of my friends… and you moved on… and I just watched you pretend… pretend that you were happy again”). Hoodie is hurt, and he’s able to express that with a melancholy that actually resonates rather than the platitudes found across his earlier work. 

But, if these not-quite-mature-enough songs are a high point, the low points are adolescent and indulgent. “Hey Ben” attempts to be jocular and edgy by directly addressing his ex’s other man (“Hey Ben, I’m sorry but I might have slept with your girlfriend”/”I was under the impression she was my girlfriend”), but – rhyming “girlfriend” with “girlfriend” aside – comes across as immature and small. I can’t help but wonder if it’d have worked better on one of Hoodie’s earlier albums, rapped lightheartedly by someone in his early 20s; as opposed to something chanted out by a 34-year-old to an audience probably ten years his junior. There’s a creeping concern that this song, clearly designed to be blurted out at a concert with a hook so simple every single fan will instantly regurgitate it back to him, will undo the high points and actual growth that this album underscores. “Sabotage,” a better song – and still spiteful – is a better, more mature, capture of this same sentiment. Given that the album is not ultimately about spite, “Hey Ben” should be tossed into the heap of Hoodie deep cuts so that one day he has to confront his fans at a concert and explain “this is not a fun song, it’s not healthy or helpful, it’s about being hurt.” Alas, the merch for the album signals that won’t be the case, and that’s a shame.

However, the album wraps up with “eraserface” and “Better Me,” two songs which allow Hoodie to confront his fate: his relationship may be over, and it hurt, but he can grow. That pain was real, but it wasn’t meaningless – he can change. Though the first is not a particularly strong song, and the second not likely to make any Hoodie Allen top ten lists either, they are both relatable. “Somehow I’ll grow… to feel like I felt yesterday… make my world a better place. I’ll throw myself in therapy… I’ll meet you as a better me,” he sings on “Better Me” as he finally accepts he has to let her, and his past, go. Through therapy, self-awareness, and self-improvement, Hoodie Allen can reemerge a better version of what he was.

bub is not a stellar album, but it is refreshingly human; Hoodie may not be special, he’s just a guy who had his heart broken and uses the album to go through all five stages of grief. By retreating from the bombast and grind of producing the same sound day in and day out, I’m encouraged that Hoodie can continue to grow both as an artist and – more importantly – as a person. At the end of the day, that’s something to celebrate.