I was introduced to Malcolm Todd’s music when he came up as a recommended “next track” on Spotify. At the time, I dismissed him as a bland TikTok bedroom pop artist. But after he was announced as the headliner for Dillo Day this year, I conducted a larger investigation, only to reach the same conclusion. 

Luckily for Todd — and unfortunately for me — his generic style is ideal for 2026: music streaming algorithms reward homogenous sound, and Gen Z fears deviance, mistaking laziness for authenticity.

To identify my gripes with Todd’s sound, let’s start with the singer’s most trending hit, “Earrings,”the opening track to his debut 2024 album “Sweet Boy.” The production is typical Todd: warm and smooth guitars and drums, with a hint of “lo-fi” background crackle. 

The song is characterized most by its hook, a note descension at the very beginning spanning four beats, sung with Todd’s signature mellow but angsty vocals. Uninteresting at best — and grating at worst — this repetitive hook can be found lurking at around the 1:30 mark of the album’s next track, “Roommates.”

Skip 25 seconds into the album’s third track, “On My Shoulder,” and, you guessed it, Todd’s pouty four-beat vocal hook arises once again. 

You get the point, but aspects of the riff can be found in tracks like “Mr. Incorrect” and “Concrete.” “Concrete” is on a later album, showing a disappointing lack of improvement or change. 

Putting Todd’s grating vocal quirk aside, as a whole, the singer’s vocal inflection rarely changes, if ever, throughout his discography. His withdrawn, vaguely emo tone comes off as uninspired and restrained. His songs consistently left me demanding: “Do something! Why don’t you take a risk?” 

Maybe Todd lacks the range or creativity to change this style, or perhaps he feels no need to take an extra risk. With nearly 26 million monthly listeners on Spotify, why gamble with ruining a good thing?

It only makes sense that Todd would become popular in a music streaming ecosystem that prioritizes inoffensive wallpaper music. 

“(Spotify’s) goal is to keep you listening as long as possible. It serves up the safest songs possible to keep you from pressing stop,” a former Spotify employee said in a 2025 article published by The Verge.

By this former employee’s account, Spotify doesn’t even view itself as a music company. Instead, it aims to provide a “time filler,” or a “soundtrack to a moment” in the listener’s day. 

How does an artist appeal to an algorithm that prioritizes widely accessible background music? 

They make their music so bland, so inoffensive, so unobtrusive that most casual listeners won’t press skip. Whether a Spotify user fully immerses themselves in a track — eyes closed, head bobbing — or plays a song from a smart speaker across the room while doing chores makes no difference to the algorithm, as long as they’re placated. Todd’s music passes the generic litmus test that streaming algorithms so value.

Notwithstanding Todd’s appeal to the algorithm, it takes a base of legitimate fans to achieve his level of success. In the midst of a college tour, Todd’s music and aesthetic have evidently resonated with a Gen Z audience. His casual, bedroom pop style seemingly fits snugly with the generation’s aesthetic preferences and tendency to worship the authentic, vulnerable and nonchalant artist. 

Unfortunately, Todd is none of those things. In actuality, the popularity of Todd and his inoffensive style is indicative of Gen Z’s documented fear of sticking out.

“Gen Z’s habitation of digital spaces allows their every move (or post) to be scrutinized and judged by their peers … Sincere effort and ambition have become socially risky behaviors,” Ruth Oh Reitmeier wrote in a 2025 Forbes article. “In Gen Z’s calculus, the cost of potential censure is too high.” 

It’s only fitting that Todd’s restrained, inoffensive style would be popular among a generation so scared of being “cringe.”

Todd’s mild aesthetic and apparent hesitance to “try too hard” extends beyond his music and into his album covers and titles as well. His latest album and its deluxe edition are titled “Malcolm Todd” and “Malcolm Todd (still),” respectively. In 2024, he released “Two New Malcolm Todd Songs” featuring a screenshot of an iMessage conversation as its cover art, reading “We need cover art for the new songs,” “Can I just use a screenshot of this text” and “No.”

Self-referential titles and playful album covers can certainly have artistic merit — see Run The Jewels’ numerous eponymous albums, Earl Sweatshirt’s raw project “Some Rap Songs” or Charli xcx’s neon green, minimalist cover to her album BRAT.

However, each of these artistic decisions have clear intentions behind them. Run The Jewels’ adherence to eponymous albums establishes a cohesive messaging and consistent sound, “Some Rap Songs” sounds deliberately unfinished and rough around the edges, while BRAT’s neon styling fits the album’s chaotic vibe.

Conversely, the releases “Malcolm Todd” and “Two New Malcolm Todd Songs” sound no different than the rest of the singer’s discography, providing no deeper rationale for these unimaginative and undaring stylistic choices.

As it stands, I’ll concede that Todd’s music isn’t horrible — but that’s the point. It can’t be horrible because he isn’t willing to take any risks worthy of making his music interesting. 

The best parts of Todd’s songs are the guitar riffs. The final 30 seconds of tracks like “Chest Pain” and “Hesitating” showcase decent range, and his typical mid-song guitar breaks are often my favorite (perhaps in part because they are a break from his apathetic lyrics, but I digress).

It’s in these instrumentals that I can sense more legitimate passion, energy and effort. The guitar plays patterns much less predictable than Todd’s repetitive vocal hooks. The distorted solos have genuine passion and soul behind them. These moments, while encouraging, remain a consistent “side-off” to otherwise monotonous tracks, and I don’t envision Todd drastically changing his melodies anytime soon. 

Backed by an algorithm and a culture rewarding this blase style, why would he?

Benjamin Barrish is a Weinberg junior. He can be contacted at [email protected].  If you would like to respond publicly to this op-ed, send a Letter to the Editor to [email protected]. The views expressed in this piece do not necessarily reflect the views of all staff members of The Daily Northwestern.