Miley Cyrus is in love again. On the former child star’s tenth studio album, Bass Persuades, Miley (who now goes by just her first name) churns out ballads and dance-rock with driving beats. If you’re wondering if being in love and becoming stable can still make for great music, her new record isn’t a great case study.

The cover of Miley’s Bass Persuades.Mert Alas

Like the Queen of Pop Madonna, Cyrus has always been a queen of reinvention—shedding her Hannah Montana persona for rap and EDM on Bangerz (2013), shifting to stripped, stoner ballads on Dead Petz (2015), country-pop on Younger Now (2017), grunge-rock on Plastic Hearts (2020), before finally settling on more traditional pop on her last two records Endless Summer Vacation (2023) and Something Beautiful (2025).

Bass Persuades lies somewhere between the radio-friendly pop of “Flowers” and the edge of “Midnight Sky.” The lead single attempts to use spoken word and grim synths to make an appeal to Gen Z: it’s time to party. The opening of the record suggests a far more punchy outing from Miley than what she ultimately delivers. The title track is a confused version of Madonna’s “Danceteria” where Miley wishes the kids still wanted to dance, but the “bass persuades.” She lists the dangers of modernity: “Candy’s cut with fentanyl,” “paving over pastures ‘cause horses are gone,” and the kids don’t have MTV, but we should “go analog.” It’s catchy, but it’s more of a mouthful than an anthem like Madonna’s “Music” or “Dance Till The World Ends”—failing to sound at ease on the dance floor. The second song, “Different Religion” featuring Model/Actriz, is one of the standouts on the album, cohering far more than the messy antics of the title track.

From there, it’s mostly downhill with a series of generic ballads and bizarre skits staged to simulate the sexiness of the club. But she’s sober now. She stopped smoking weed in 2017 and stopped drinking in 2020, but sobriety’s effects seem to have crested in Bass Persuades and its surrounding promo cycle. The woo-woo side of Miley doesn’t appear as much, other than in clichés about love and truth. There’s less silliness, here, from the woman who used to sing about her acrobatic prowess during sex on “Handstand” and getting high with her pet blowfish on Dead Petz.

Miley doesn’t seem so sure what she wants to say or what’s specific about her vision. She tries to turn the experience of a stable relationship into a moving experience, but songs like “Orbit” and “REDLIGHTS”—mid-tempo, mid-2000s pop—could be sung by almost anyone. “Snow,” a generic power pop ballad, is hardly specific even if it tries to nail down Miley’s engagement story.

There’s less silliness, here, from the woman who used to sing about her acrobatic prowess during sex on “Handstand.”

Miley’s personality comes out most on songs like the slinking “Innocent Ways,” a sexy, driving rock song about wanting to protect her sister from being corrupted. It’s far more fun than the strange duet with Andrew Wyatt of Miike Snow that features a bizarre outro. I’ve loved Miley Cyrus since her days as Hannah Montana. I knew all the words to “Start All Over” and “See You Again.” But I’ve long felt that she’s rarely found the right songwriters or image. She’s so many things: a country star, an ex-pothead, a superstar, a lover girl, and a mystic. If only she found a way to show off these different sides more often, more coherently.