How Post Malone became the go-to collab of the year

In addition to being known for his catchy choruses, Malone has also built a more defiant brand. He’s cast himself in the image of rappers such as Lil Wayne, Birdman, and Gucci Mane, among others, with his prominent face tattoos, grills, and general party-boy aesthetic. Malone’s known for repping Bud Light, for example, so much so that he has his own custom can.

“I think of him as a very vibes-based musician,” says Hamilton. “He had this ultra laid-back ... stoner persona. He's sort of a lifestyle brand for a certain type of young audience.”

Malone’s been scrutinized for not bringing much more than vibes to the table, however. Or as the New York Times’s music critics once put it: “His songs sound like everything and nothing.” Some of Malone’s trademarks include his signature vibrato crooning and moody atmosphere, though few singles are total standouts. While certain experts I spoke with for this piece lauded Malone’s ability to work across musical styles, others said they didn’t find his work especially remarkable.

This same critique has been extended to the persona he’s embodied, which has also been called out for cultural appropriation. During his initial debut, Malone sported braids in addition to grills, and spoke in a manner reminiscent of African American vernacular English, a habit he now seems to have distanced himself from.

Malone’s critics argued he was taking from Black culture and hip-hop culture without giving back or giving acknowledgment. Statements he made where he cautioned fans against listening to hip hop if they wanted to think about deeper emotions, and how he didn’t identify as a rapper, furthered these concerns.

Now, as he moves into the country space, his image has changed: While he still has the face tattoos, he now has short hair, scraggly beard, and a new wardrobe. Much like Ariana Grande, he’s seemingly altered the cadence of his voice, too. That has led to criticism that Malone adopted both looks and lyrics associated with Black culture when it benefited him and shed them once they helped him obtain a platform.

“This is a common trend seen from artists historically,” Jeremy McCool, a West Chester University media professor, who has a forthcoming book about socially conscious hip-hop, tells Vox. “White artists such as Kid Rock, Machine Gun Kelly, and Yelawolf are prime examples of other artists who rose to prominence by making hip-hop-centered music and later switching to a different sound and aesthetic, often leaning into either the rockstar or rural country persona.”

In recent years, however, “social media has made it a lot easier to see these rebrands take place in real time,” he adds. “You can look at artists' photos and posts change and see how they completely pivot out of their ‘hip-hop’ persona.”

Fans of Malone have praised his adaptability and argue that he’s simply being true to himself by avoiding getting boxed in. Less flattering reviews peg him more as a culture vulture who lacks authenticity and who’s able to move in this way because of his whiteness. That fluidity is what some experts describe as key to his appeal.

“He’s a stylistic chameleon,” says Adam Bradley, a UCLA English professor who has studied pop music and hip-hop. “He’s just as comfortable in country as he is in rap or R&B or rock or straight-up pop.”

Musically, Malone “meets the music where it is rather than dragging it where he wants it to go,” notes Bradley. In doing so, he’s seen as adding enough to a song to make his presence felt, but not so much as to outshine the main artist. Often, he appears to take on that artist’s energy and sound, says Slate’s Chris Molanphy.

That can make him a compelling partner for other singers, who’ve praised his songwriting abilities and the earworms he’s worked on. “I’ve been such a huge fan of Post because of the writer he is, his musical experimentation and those melodies he creates that just stick in your head forever,” Swift has said.

His image, too, is seen as expanding how some artists are perceived — by giving them an air of edge they might be lacking. “I think a lot of artists are drawn as much or more to Post Malone’s image as they are to his artistry,” Bradley adds. “He inhabits a place in culture right now that’s almost exclusively his own: a good bad boy.”

That adds to the business case for working with Malone: Many of the artists he’s collaborated with have large and established audiences, but teaming up with him helps them reach fans of his that they might not already have. Additionally — given how he, Swift, and Wallen are all affiliated with the same label — the duets probably give Republic a boost, too.

Another reason we’re probably seeing so much of Malone is also because it’s part of the rollout for his new country turn. Just as he once worked with hip-hop artists to enter that space, he appears to be doing the same once again as he makes a foray into this new genre.

Beyoncé’s collaboration with Malone coincides with the release of her country album, Cowboy Carter, for instance. The choice to include him could well be her way of being inclusive, says Nobile, and an effort to send a message about how artists shouldn’t be confined to just one genre.

Malone’s latest maneuver also puts a fresh spotlight on his privilege as a white male artist — and how that’s enabled him to make this transition. His decision to work with Wallen, who’s previously been condemned for his use of the N-word (which he apologized for), has only underscored this point.

“Post Malone is a white artist who came to prominence in the Black genre of hip-hop, and many of his previous collaborations were with Black artists,” says Bradley. “By making this move to country and folk he’s exercising a privilege not even afforded to one of the biggest Black artists in history, Beyoncé, who’s caught so much backlash for her own recent turn to country music.”

This privilege, in addition to his talent, is central to Malone’s success. And because of it, he’s been able to take on both a spectrum of collabs and evade getting pigeonholed in the process.