The singer-songwriter Malcolm Todd knows the rules of the game. His self-titled debut opens with a track titled “Harry Styles,” a career mission statement. Declining to imitate a pop forebear, the song describes disaffection with millennial pop stardom, which benefited from a combination of early 2000s celebrity news consumption and the onset of social media. “Gen Z”, the generation after millennials, have come of age in an era when oversharing is the norm, not a novelty.
Malcolm Todd and his sister, Audrey Hobert, one of 2025’s breakout stars, enter their work through confessionalism, making style secondary. That is not to say they lack style; Todd’s work is a mix of acoustic tracks that pay homage to Simon and Garfunkel, R&B tributes that have earned comparisons to Steve Lacy, and synth-driven production flourishes.
Such is the sonic palette of Do That Again, Todd’s sophomore album, which showcases his distinct approach to writing and production. “Lonely Song” interpolates the melody of “Mr. Lonely” in a guitar riff, and probes the uncertainty of meeting a new romantic partner. Todd says, “Feeling fine, feeling new / I’m a mess / That’s two lies and a truth,” referencing a common icebreaker called “Two truths and a lie.”
Malcolm Todd’s breezy navigation of cultural touchstones is part of his appeal. He takes his surroundings at face value, unafraid to say what works for him and what doesn’t. “X’s & O’s” includes a recording of a voicemail left for an ex-girlfriend: “It’s Malcolm, your boyfriend, or / I don’t even know what I am to you anymore,” Todd says, his voice breaking. Whether this was a real voicemail, or something recorded for the song, does not matter. The singer’s delivery of the spoken-word interlude is convincing enough to land him a starring role in an A24 film.
Elsewhere on the album, Todd has fun. In “Malcolm in the Middle”, which references a popular sitcom on which Todd’s father was a screenwriter, the singer describes doubt lingering in a happy relationship, over upbeat acoustics. He admits, “I know it all until I don’t.” Meanwhile, “Saw Your Face” is the emotional centerpiece of the record, a soft rock ballad about running into an ex on a night out. While this is not a new premise, Todd adds a unique spin to it. In the bridge, bright synths replace instrumentation, which, through the timing of their arrival, convey melancholy.
In the music video for “Saw Your Face”, Todd hacks a giant onion with an axe, inviting as many tears as he can cry. The symbolism captures his approach to songwriting: vulnerable at his own expense. He lacks the chip on his shoulder indicative of his male peers, for whom the idea of their own confessionalism is a muse because honesty is radical. Meanwhile, Todd has no pretense of holding back to begin with, and he’s better off for it. “I got two best friends in a hotel suite,” he brags on “Breathe”.
Malcolm Todd represents a new trend in pop: singers who want to be where they are. Many of his predecessors were produced by reality television incubators or by Disney. With each of their successes, audiences asked, Will this be the final straw? Have they been pushed too far? In the wake of their fame, breakdowns became entertainment, but Todd surpasses this correlation. He argues that, since honesty in the public eye is like a reality show, celebrities have nothing to lose by embarrassing themselves.
A 2026 essay in Interview magazine describes Todd arriving to meet a journalist in Washington Square Park, “cut[ting] through the sea of violet NYU caps and gowns on a Citi Bike.” Todd’s music career is the result of a gap year spent scooping ice cream; he didn’t attend college. Cycling through the ranks of his would-be peers, he has no conception of what might have been.
The music business, or any creative industry, requires artists to superimpose their sense of self onto an artistic vessel. Todd understands that pop is just as much about persona as it is music; in that sense, he is like Harry Styles. On Do That Again, Todd turns misadventures into psychedelic jams, surpassing his predecessors in depth and stylistic flair.
On the cover of his self-titled debut, Malcolm Todd is photographed wrestling with his producer, Jonah Cochran: a snapshot of boyhood that acknowledges the ridiculousness of its traditions. As Todd does with the music industry, he engages with masculinity on his own terms, knowing listeners will relate to his point of view. Because social media has de-glamorized fame, today’s fans admire people who theatrically reflect normalcy. “You want to be making music for yourself and trusting that’s what [listeners will] love,” Todd said to Line of Best Fit.
In “Earrings”, from his 2024 mixtape Sweet Boy, Todd croons, “Extra, extra, read all about it / Mac is in his feelings and he can’t get out of it.” Self-awareness is the genesis of his confessions, not what comes after. “I found some momentum / It was all downhill,” he says on “Lonely Song”. It’s not a full-scale breakdown, but it gets the job done.