Bruno Mars – The Romantic Review

For those not at all in the loop on what Bruno Mars has done since Grenade, there is little to be caught up on. A Las Vegas residency, which seems to have affected his image more than any moment in popular culture for the last decade and a collaboration with Lady Gaga. That’s about it. You’re all caught up. The Romantic is his latest album and relies on nothing but the goodwill of Mars’ name and the brevity which comes from a half-hour with a Now That’s What I Call Music staple. He writes with all the heart of a banking clerk detailing a savings account to a pensioner, and performs in a manner that puts him in an awkward spot between unenjoyable and unrelenting. But he has persevered. You cannot stop the funk of uptown, which Mars is in dire need of across his latest album. His first solo effort in a decade, mind. Worth remembering as Mars tries to retrace the steps to success he charted in his early days.  

He was a benchmark moment for pop culture, and is now on the other side of that lofty bar. Mars is capable, still, of making interesting music. He just filters it in such a manner that it’ll not be heard by those who want to hear it. Those who want Grenade and that one song with the monkeys in the music video are his core audience, and this drive for Latin soul is a daring change. A real dare, unlike the messiness of whatever Harry Styles had tried with his faux evolution of contemporary pop sound. Mars has at least drifted far enough from base with The Romantic, and there are sweet moments throughout this half-hour test of the waters. Risk It All serves as a fine opener, Mars very much embodies the title of the song here as he pushes for a new sound. His voice is exceptional; the instrumentals receive a little flourish of brass appeal. It’s enough to turn the song into something more than kitschy love. Instead, it feels like a real booming, romantic thrill. Great fun, but the thrills are relatively short-lived here.  

Reductive pop tracks like I Just Might feel possessive for the sake of it rather than being attracted to the object of his desires. It’s the framing as object which becomes relatively deplorable; despite the jolly tone, it sounds a tad sinister. Such is the writing style of a man who has been trapped in some Las Vegas petting zoo, performing Cardi B collaborative tracks on his own. How Mars has managed to make an album at all after he was shielded from the world around him is inspiring, let alone that it sounds relatively good. Occasionally, that is. Not quite the thrill ride it could or should be, but at least there’s enough movement on songs throughout to keep you listening. It’s short enough not to bother switching it off, too. Mars is clearly passionate about the soulful sound he brings here, but the ironic inevitability is present. He hasn’t got the heart or passion necessary to carry those tones. 

Tracks like God Was Showing Off and Why You Wanna Fight? slip into complacency. On My Soul at least has the makings of a thrilling, punchy song, but it loses its way rather quickly. So too does The Romantic, an album filled with the promise of love and intimacy which never carries forth a unique layer to its charms. Songs of love, about love, with the same words from song to song. It starts to feel a bit meaningless when Mars is moved by the basics. Then it just ends. There’s no real statement made, no point beyond musings on love which Mars has made before, both on stage and in the studio. His Latin pop sound is at least a nice break from other works in his discography, but even then, it’s a far cry from essential listening. Nice stock for his upcoming tour, but it’s hardly going to set any hearts on fire, ironic given that’s the intent of it.