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.