Zayn Malik might have one of the most beautiful voices in the world. Unfortunately, that does not erase the fact that his fifth studio album, “KONNAKOL,” is an ode to his substance abuse issues mixed with a soulful mourning of ex-relationships that could have been moving if it weren’t a carbon copy of his last four albums.

“KONNAKOL,” which was released April 17, could have been genre-bending. Drawing its name from the South Indian Carnatic tradition of performing percussion beats vocally, the album was marketed by Malik as an intersection of his British popstar identity and South Asian heritage. Paying homage to Qawali legend Nusrat Fateh Ali Khan and songs that were touted as mixing South Asian tones and language, the album held much promise and could have been the magnum opus of Malik’s career. In some sense, this does hold true. The production of the album is brilliant, the vocals are out of this world and the lyricism manages to be both sexy and sad. But overall, “KONNAKOL” feels like a shiny vehicle with no one in it, with bold production and meaningless lyrics. 

Building on the relaxed R&B beats and hypnotic lyricism of Malik’s previous projects, “KONNAKOL” has some beautifully constructed songs. “Nusrat” and “Betting Folk” both feature Malik’s heavenly harmonizing vocals, with his music’s signature synth-pop flair coming through. Particularly,“Betting Folk” swings the bass up and down throughout the song to keep listeners guessing, echoing the tumultuous relationship it portrays through lines like “Come and hit this weed, won’t you kiss me on clouds? / Swimmin’ through seas with trees right now.” 

The issue is, it is startlingly reminiscent of Malik’s last four albums, which have all been enjoyable but not memorable, like “Room Under The Stairs” or “Mind of Mine.” The same problem comes through in “KONNAKOL.” 

Instead of building up the hints of genuine artistry Malik has shown glimpses of, “KONNAKOL” features the same two-dimensional, broody, cut-up and tortured lover we’ve seen in the past. It was new and exciting the first time Malik did it in “PILLOWTALK,” but almost a decade later, it feels empty. Each song sounds like something you would hear on a Top 40 radio station. Overall, “KONNAKOL” is the kind of album you would put on in the background as you do your homework, and then forget you put it on. Malik’s voice can only carry so much.

Moreover, rather than using the South Asian influences Malik had promised to accentuate the album, most of “KONNAKOL” features Malik singing about how unlovable he is, self-referential and self-effacing as always. Any complex messaging about Malik’s cultural ties is lost to superficial choruses such as “The way you fucking me, loving me, need your body, like / No lie, no lie” in “Met Tonight” or “Cigarette don’t hit mе like it used to / I got used to thе blues” in “Used to the Blues.”

Sonically, the album is superb. While lacking the heavy South Asian influence I expected, “Nusrat,” “Fatal” and “Take Turns” play with South Asian instrumentals skillfully. “Nusrat” has some Qawali undertones, with echoing emotive vocals, especially in its ethereal opening. However, “Fatal” is where listeners get the strongest glimpse of what the album could have been. Its production is stunning, mixing Bollywood influences with traditional South Asian and Western pop elements to create an R&B track that could be played as the outro of an Indian wedding or on BBC Radio 4. Fittingly, the lyrics of “Fatal” alternate between English and Urdu, capturing longing, regret and lost love in a tragic and hauntingly exquisite way.

Similarly, “Take Turns” is exciting and fresh to listen to. Layering upbeat South Asian and British Caribbean instrumentals, the lyrics feature Malik using colloquial slang such as “Run, run away when them girls say they want the lame.” The bass throughline of the song makes the lyricism’s rhythm unique, even if it has the same message as most of the songs on “KONNAKOL,” which is to say, none.

“KONNAKOL” has its moments, especially when it authentically embraces the cultural aspects it supposedly strives to portray. However, despite being a sensual and lush listen, the album’s lack of any deeper storytelling or emotional depth makes it fall flat. It takes what should’ve been a great album and fashions it into a good one. Malik stated that this album is a marker of him knowing who he is, but after listening to “KONNAKOL,” I am not sure that interpretation holds.