With Swag, Justin Bieber trades polished pop spectacle for lo-fi vulnerability — but the results are often more confusing than compelling. Clocking in at over 20 tracks, this is a sprawling, stripped-down experiment that aims for emotional intimacy and artistic freedom, yet frequently lands somewhere between unfinished demo and misfired mixtape.

Right from the start, on “ALL I CAN TAKE,” Bieber sets the tone with a husky, low-mixed vocal layered over ‘80s-style synths and a ‘90s R&B-style beat. The production is interesting, but it never really builds — a theme that haunts much of the album. There’s a clear desire to peel things back, let the rawness show, and explore his more soulful vocal tone (which leans into a scratchier, almost MJ-like delivery). But the restraint often reads as playing it safe, not as intentional minimalism.

On “DAISIES” and “YUKON,” things get a little weirder — and not always in a good way. The guitars feel purposefully off-kilter, and while that might have been meant to reflect vulnerability or looseness, it comes across more like poor execution. “YUKON” does introduce a silky guest vocal that brings a breath of fresh air, but Bieber barely feels present — more of a feature on his own album.

Throughout Swag, there are glimmers of clarity. “THINGS YOU DO” nails the stripped-down aesthetic Bieber seems to be chasing. It’s simple, warm, and open-ended lyrically — understated in all the right ways. “DEVOTION” and “TOO LONG” also hit closer to the emotional target, with more intention behind the production and more genuine connection in the vocal delivery. Here, the intimacy feels earned.

Unfortunately, those moments are few and far between. Tracks like “GO BABY,” “FIRST PLACE,” and “DADZ LOVE” feel underdeveloped and stuck in looped ideas that don’t evolve. “SWEET SPOT,” featuring Sexyy Red, is one of the more jarring tracks — the sexually explicit lyrics clash awkwardly with the album’s otherwise sentimental, family-centered tone. It’s hard to reconcile a tender love song to his child with lyrics about “coochie pop” just a few songs later.

The production throughout tends to lean into lo-fi, demo-style aesthetics, but too often feels unfinished rather than intentional. Songs like “ZUMA HOUSE” and “GLORY VOICE MEMO” sound like literal voice memos — and not always in a charming or revealing way. By the time we reach tracks like “STANDING ON BUSINESS” or “405,” it’s hard not to wonder whether Bieber lost interest mid-project. The skits and loose interludes (“SOULFUL,” “THERAPY SESSION”) feel less like part of a concept and more like filler.

And then there’s the title track, “SWAG” — which, surprisingly, might be one of the strongest cuts here. Bieber’s rapid-fire vocal approach actually meshes well with the minimal beat, giving the song a slight mystique and an energy that’s mostly missing from the rest of the album. It’s telling that a song called “SWAG” ends up being one of the few to actually deliver on its name.

In the end, Swag feels more like a sketchbook than a statement. It wants to be intimate, raw, and expressive — but instead ends up murky, uneven, and emotionally disconnected. There are moments of warmth, and Bieber still clearly has the vocal chops. But across 21 tracks, it’s hard not to feel like we’re listening to a collection of voice memos waiting to become real songs.