Bryson Tiller‘s new album is his first full-length in four years, but during that hiatus, the R&B-meets-rap-meets-pop-meets-soul crooner has been an almost omnipresent force in the game. Whether it’s his vulnerability as an artist, his sheer talent, social media skills, or some other glitch in the Matrix, Tiller seems to always elevate and be a leading figure in R&B’s culture even when he’s taking his time between projects.

On his new self-titled project, he immediately comes out swinging, creating a body of work that looks to shepherd R&B’s sound into all sorts of different directions, relying on the power of his voice to keep the enterprise moving fluidly. It often works to satisfying results, with Tiller recontextualizing the genre in which he is already a massive star. Other times, he grows complacent, leaving too many tracks to serve as little more than filler. Regardless, it’s clear that the time off gave him an unquenchable desire to return to the top of pop music’s ever-surprising landscape.

There are only two guests on Bryson Tiller: Victoria Monét and Clara La San. While this adds some pressure to Tiller’s vision, there’s a reason behind the decision that makes perfect sense within the context of the album.

“I’m a little impatient sometimes when it comes to features,” he told Complex in March. “I’ll be in the studio and I’ll have a song with an open verse. I’ll want maybe two different artists on it and I’m just like, ‘I can rap too, I’m probably better than that person, so I’m going to just do it myself.’ But also I really just want this album to be about myself more than anything, so I don’t want to bring too many people in.”

Surprisingly enough, both things are true. Tiller again and again showcases his prowess as a rapper, and this album is the clearest distillation in his discography of what he’s exactly all about. In many ways, he’s a traditional R&B star, but in more crucial, subtle ways, he’s restless in wanting to move the classic crooner template into thrillingly odd directions.

“Attention” is a horny futuristic jam that uses warbling synths and layers of vocals to give Tiller’s voice a bevy of dynamism. “So I’m ready to disappear/ Let’s just go, my dear/ ‘Causе the way you put it on/ Make me wanna takе it off,” he sings. It’s simple, but clever, especially when he lets his own voice off the leash. Lyrically, it doesn’t often get much deeper than this, but Bryson uses his vocal dexterity and versatility to imbue otherwise surface level tracks with more importance.

On “Stay Gold,” he turns in a perfectly competent rap verse, spitting: “What you keep forwarding my calls for?/ You know that’s uncalled for/ No matter the occasion, I’ma do what it calls for/ Ain’t too proud to beg, what you want me to crawl for it?” It’s just desperate enough to be captivating without being embarrassing. Tiller lays it all on the line, and that is, at the very least, commendable.

Oddly enough, it’s on the singles that Tiller moves towards safer choices that don’t really pay off. On “CALYPSO,” he imagines that the all-capitalized title will add some excitement to the song, but it’s little more than generic soul-pop fodder. Tiller is at his best when the specificity of his lyrics lead to something bigger than the scenes themselves, but on “CALYPSO,” they don’t add up to much.

He sings of flirting with an old flame that was about to leave the club because of work obligations in the morning, but she decides to stay after their song comes on. It’s a movie scene without exposition, and Tiller approaches the song like he’s so famous even his underwhelming singles will do numbers. He’s right, but that doesn’t make the song worthwhile.

“Outside,” which is currently moving towards 50 million streams on Spotify, inexplicably samples Ying Yang Twins‘ “Wait (The Whisper Song),” but doesn’t do anything with the likely pricy interpolation. “Yeah, that ass too swole and I’m tryna grab that,” he sings, which doesn’t quite work. It’s almost as if Tiller and his team thought sampling an old hit would bring success along with it, and while it has made its way onto playlists, it’s one of the weaker moments on this self-titled effort.

Tiller doesn’t really mine innovative territory, so it’s up to his creative songwriting to carry the album. More often than not, Bryson Tiller is buoyed by this, like on “Undertow,” when the singer asks his partner what she dreams of while she lies on his chest. The acoustic guitar borders on saccharine, but the specificity of his intrigue gives the song a relatable romanticism.

This is what Bryson Tiller does so well on this self-titled effort. He makes his world expansive, so much so that every life-or-death romantic encounter feels like one of ours, too. Love can hurt, but when you find the one, well, there’s nothing better. Those highs are the core of Bryson Tiller’s strength.