Zayn’s solo career has been a series of fits and starts, a product of a modern pop landscape where being a talented singer is far from enough to capture the zeitgeist. It may have been a mistake to initially define himself by what he was not: not a Simon Cowell shill, not a squeaky-clean boy band idol, not above laborious concept albums. His chosen character of the brooding, afflicted Don Juan, provocative as it may be, is not exactly unique; even the Weeknd has begun working beyond its creative limits. And with ROOM UNDER THE STAIRS, Zayn seems to be finally casting off that tried-and-tested persona, at least to an extent.
If you’ve ever tuned into SiriusXM’s The Coffee House station, you know what this album sounds like. Doing away with the pulsing, club-ready R&B of Zayn’s past solo work, Dave Cobb’s co-production paints a new backdrop of beachy guitar and live drums, playing into Zayn’s former One Direction role as the introspective crooner. “I’m finding my way on the highway this year,” he declares on “Concrete Kisses,” over sparkling keys and a meandering bassline. Recorded at his home in rural Pennsylvania, this is apparently meant to be Zayn’s coming-clean, “back to basics” record, channeling the likes of Chris Stapleton (another Cobb collaborator) and John Legend as a way of projecting sensitivity. The sound is pleasant enough, if a little too picturesque. The strongest entries are the trio of songs that Zayn didn’t co-write: “Stardust” is a gushy ode to new love, “Something in the Water” has Zayn doing his best Blonde impression, and “False Starts” carries a propulsion that’s sorely missing everywhere else.
While not completely devoid of references to partying—“So fucked, I can’t feel my face”—ROOM UNDER THE STAIRS gestures towards a vaguer messiness of long-term relationships. “Take me as I am, I’m tired/Of dancing around the point,” Zayn sings on “What I Am,” then proceeds to spend the whole album doing just that. Apart from a few true groaners (“Got a big old cup of shit/Told me to drink it”), the lyrics are mostly forgettable mush, circuitous nothings like, “These days, I live to my depiction” (“Grateful”) or, “With no senses, ain’t no sentence/Making sense of us” (“Dreamin”). These garbled thoughts only reinforce the songs as background music—the soundtrack at a boardwalk cafe where you’re only meant to hear every third word, or the needle drops on reality TV whenever one contestant proposes to another. They’re not bad, per se, but they’re anonymous.
ROOM UNDER THE STAIRS follows Zayn’s split from his on-again-off-again partner Gigi Hadid, which ended in 2021 when Zayn pleaded no contest to four charges of harassment for allegedly striking Hadid’s mother. Why, then, are relationship narratives on this album ambiguous to the point of meaninglessness? There’s a moment of startling emotional clarity on “Shoot at Will,” a revealing track where Zayn alludes to his and Hadid’s daughter: “When I look at her, all I see is you/When you look at her, do you see me too?” But for the most part, Zayn appears much more comfortable wearing the mask of vulnerability instead of actually exercising it.
