Ever 'The Romantic,' Bruno Mars Keeps Rewriting History. It’s Time He Wrote Himself
The Grammy Award-winning crooner has mastered the art of refurbishing classics. Does that make him derivative? Or intentionally evasive?
I was late to the Bruno Mars party.
I know, I know.
When the artist formerly known as Peter Gene Hernandez generously offered to catch a grenade for the rest of y’all, I wasn’t particularly fond of his power pop stylings—or his aggressive pompador. But once “Uptown Funk” seized the entire galaxy—leaving man, woman, and UFO alike at the mercy of a cacophony of synths and crutch thrusts—my apprehensions were officially cast aside.
It was time to accept my fate and partake in the Kool-Aid.
Fast forward to 2026, and the Grammy Award-winning crooner has since blossomed into one of my favorite artists. His showmanship is unmatched, and between his Billboard dominance, his studious approach to his craft, and his uncanny mutant ability to shapeshift through music genres like an X-Men villain, his latest studio album, The Romantic, was one of the most anticipated since…24K Magic—of which he dropped a decade ago.
This context is important because, under typical circumstances, The Romantic would be considered a comeback album. However, when you’re an artiste as prolific as Bruno, even your respite is anything but—as evidenced by the duets, Silk Sonics, and Vegas residences (as in plural) that occupied his time.
That means that, without the allure of a triumphant return, how do you give the people what they want without giving them what they’ve already had? Somehow, that Aubrey person doesn’t seem to have this problem, but when you’re Bruno Mars, the answer is simple: go in the closet and try on another genre.
On The Romantic, Bruno takes an audacious—if not completely unexpected—plunge into Chicano soul. While 2021’s An Evening with Silk Sonic served as the perfect precursor for the boleros to come—since it familiarized his audience with a time-traveling tour of the ‘70s—instead of staying rooted in the Chi-Lites and Con Funk Shuns of yesteryear, The Romantic draws inspiration from trailblazers like Tito Puente. And while the end result is undoubtedly stellar, it also poses far more questions than it answers.
Kicking things off with the gorgeous “Risk It All,” with its blaring mariachi horns and maudlin guitars, one can’t help but wonder if we’re unwilling participants in cultural appreciation or self-serving cosplay—especially after seeing the music video, in which Bruno fronts a mariachi band and gallivants alongside his conveniently Chicana bride.
The rest of the album is comprised of much of the same. With serial hitmaker D’Mile serving as co-conspirator, Bruno goes from reciting Soulja Slim lyrics over strings and congas on “Cha Cha Cha,” to questioning if “God Was Showing Off” over trumpets you’ve definitely heard before, to channeling teenage heartthrob Ritchie Valens on the album closer, “Dance With Me.”
If the goal of this project was to sell out yet another world tour, and run up an insane amount of streams in the process, then mission accomplished. But as someone who considers himself a fan, I wish his otherworldly musical acumen and attention to detail extended beyond merely performance. Bruno’s catalog is often ridiculed for being vapid or formulaic, but it’s nearly impossible to foster transparency or depth when you’re in the business of homage.
“I’m trying to live the dream, but I need you on my team,” he howls on the Curtis Mayfield-esque “On My Soul.” “So if you want me like I want you, let me hear you scream.”
Vapid? Formulaic?
Clearly, he’s not beating those allegations.
In contrast, Anderson .Paak—his cohort in all things Silk Sonic—has divulged his pandemic observations, grieved the loss of his close friend, Mac Miller, blasted Trump and lamented gun violence, and even gave us a glimpse into his life post-divorce. So, whereas Bruno has made it his duty to study everyone else’s business—as evidenced by his lucrative forays into reggae, soft rock, new jack swing, or whatever else—he shares literally none of his own.
Comedians routinely pour their pain into their jokes on stage; Beyoncé made an entire album explaining why Solange unleashed Jiu-jitsu in that elevator. So, seventeen years into his career, when will Bruno finally allow us to peer behind his veil? When will he stop telling us what we want to hear and instead bear even a fragment of his soul?
He’s spent so much time being everyone else—from Morris Day to Porter Wagoner—that we honestly have no fucking idea who he actually is. And to that end, when will he stop making music that’s so shamelessly derivative of popular works?
I love the guy, but songs should serve as declarations—not mementos. And at this point, I’d much rather hear his truth than his endless string of “tributes.”
That said, if spending 32 minutes of your life repeating, “Yo, this sounds like…” is your thing, then The Romantic unquestionably delivers—just like it did when Carlos Santana and Tower of Power did it first. But if you’re like me and prefer a bit more authenticity pouring out of your earbuds, then this Bette Davis quote puts things into perspective:
“If everybody likes you, you’re pretty dull.”
Stop being dull, Bruno.
Both your fans and your talent deserve so much more.