‘Younger Now’ Is Miley in Reverse

Miley Cyrus is damned if she does, damned if she doesn't. The endless media cycle that started with her 2013 album Bangerz feels like a distant memory. So Miley's latest reinvention – being "herself" – comes as something of a relief… or does it? The ease with which she's disengaged from black culture, going from Spring Breakers-parents' nightmare to hippie flower child in just four years, makes her relationship with hip-hop seem less sincere than it actually was. Was it just a costume all along? And what does that say about Younger Now – by her own admission, an attempt to walk back her image and reconnect with middle America?

Younger Now clears away the weed smoke of Miley Cyrus & Her Dead Petz, her self-indulgent – though rarely dull – 2015 Flaming Lips collaboration. Written mostly by herself, played and co-produced entirely by Dead Petz collaborator Oren Yoel, Younger Now ignores Spotify and radio trends for an approximation of the modern Nashville sound. If Bangerz seemed like bratty provocation, but was by and large sincere – "Adore You", "Drive" – Younger Now is the reverse: unapologetically earnest with just a hint of country kitsch. Dolly Parton, Miley's godmother, is a clear role model – but her actual vocal contributions are wasted deep in "Rainbowland"'s mix.

Nashville runs in Miley's blood; we've wanted a country album from her since 2012, when she first covered "Jolene". So why is the end result so hard to love? She's proven time and time again that she's an exceptional vocalist, but she holds back throughout Younger Now, rarely leaning into her belt, croon, or Southern drawl. On "Inspired", "I Would Die for You". "Miss You So Much", she tries to forge an intimate connection with the listener, but the songs come off as lethargic. It shouldn't be possible, but Miley's teenage poetry is more affecting when read than sung.

Strangest of all is "She's Not Him" – based on Cyrus' brief relationship with model Stella Maxwell, before her reconciliation with now-fiancé Liam Hemsworth. It's the rare love song that openly acknowledges bisexuality, but the result sounds like a diss. It's written as an apology to the "she", but Miley repeats "you're not him" like a bad fixation. It's not you… it's him!

Only "Week Without You", a blues stomp where Cyrus fantasises about eloping from a clingy lover, captures both Mileys: the sly, charming comedian we've seen on late-night TV, and the heartfelt country balladeer. Elsewhere, her sense of humour's sorely missed.

Still, Miley's god-given talents are undeniable. Just two weeks ago, an acoustic BBC Radio 1 set reminded us how she earned her fame in the first place. She covers Roberta Flack, delivers career-best versions of "See You Again" and "Party in the U.S.A." – embracing her past, not suppressing it. And with a newfound sense of urgency, buoyed by backing vocalists and a band that instinctively knows how to serve the song, Miley sings "Younger Now" and "Malibu" as the anthems they could be. Where's this sass, this soul, this sense of Nashville community on the album itself? Is it too late to rerecord the whole thing in one take?

Miley hasn't totally disowned her past – nor should she be expected to. But she's rebranding herself without acknowledging what any of the public backlash was about. "Change is a thing you can count on", she sings, instead of telling us how she's matured – or how we can learn from her example. Without depicting the struggle of her personal growth, these songs can't transcend the person singing them.

Miley Cyrus constantly talks about wanting to change the world – and no one can knock her philanthropy. But good intentions alone don't amount to meaningful art. She's just being Miley – but for the first time in her career, that's not enough.

Richard S. He is a pop producer and award-winning critic. You can tweet your grievances to @Richaod.