There’s a weight to Swimming that doesn’t sink — it floats, drifts, and pulls you along in slow motion. Released in 2018, just a month before his passing, Mac Miller’s fifth studio album feels like both a eulogy and a meditation — a quiet reckoning with fame, recovery, and self-acceptance.
But Swimming isn’t about drowning. It’s about staying afloat, even when the current is heavy.
Between Reflection and Resistance
“Swimming” opens not with bravado, but with breath — the sound of someone exhaling into the world. “Come Back to Earth” sets the tone: I was drowning, but now I’m swimming. It’s not a triumphant declaration. It’s weary, self-aware, and utterly human.
Unlike earlier albums that flexed his versatility (GO:OD AM, Watching Movies with the Sound Off), Swimming stays in one emotional register — soulful, introspective, and unhurried. It’s a record that doesn’t chase the high; it studies the low.
Soul Over Style
Mac’s evolution wasn’t just musical — it was spiritual. The jazzy textures and live instrumentation mark a shift from rapper to composer, curator, and philosopher. Songs like “Hurt Feelings” and “What’s the Use?” groove with effortless charm, but beneath the bassline lies a man learning how to live with himself.
It’s this tension — between smoothness and sorrow — that gives Swimming its gravity. Each track circles the same themes: self-doubt, growth, balance, grace. “2009” stands as the album’s emotional nucleus — a song that sounds like acceptance wrapped in melancholy.
A Dialogue With the Past
Every Mac Miller album is a time capsule of where he was — and who he was becoming. Swimming continues the conversation started in The Divine Feminine, but turns inward. The romantic optimism of that record dissolves into a more solitary kind of love — self-love.
There’s no bitterness here, only recognition. Even “Self Care,” with its now-haunting refrain I got all the time in the world, reads as an affirmation rather than a goodbye.
He wasn’t running from darkness anymore. He was learning to coexist with it.
Soundtrack for Survival
The production across Swimming feels liquid — shimmering synths, gliding bass, pockets of silence that breathe. It’s an album built on movement without motion, like floating in place.
Listen to “Ladders” — the horn section bursts with sunlight, while Mac’s voice drifts calmly through the chaos. This duality defines the record: progress without perfection, peace without permanence.
It’s the soundtrack of someone still figuring it out — and somehow, that’s what makes it timeless.
Pairing the Album with the Perfect Sip
If there were ever a record that demanded a slow pour and reflection, it’s Swimming. Forget the noise and dim the lights. Pair this album with Cut Above’s non-alcoholic gin, stirred into a no-proof Negroni. Its cool botanicals mirror the album’s quiet clarity — grounded, restorative, and real. Like Swimming, it’s not about escape. It’s about presence.
(Negroni Recipe)
The Ripple That Never Ends
Mac Miller didn’t get to finish his story — but Swimming makes peace with that. It’s the sound of trying, of staying, of refusing to give up on yourself even when you’re tired.
There’s an ache to every beat, but also a strange serenity. Because Swimming isn’t a farewell. It’s a lesson in stillness. A reminder that healing isn’t a finish line — it’s a current you move with, one breath at a time.
So keep swimming.
And remember: with Cut Above, you can always go your own way—without the hangover.
Check it out on our Spotify playlist
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Cheers!
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