Throughout the record, Schmitt shifts his identity as a narrator, flipping from his slightly nasal twang to a pointed use of Auto-Tune. The effect anonymizes Schmitt, stripping his voice of humanness so it contrasts with the organic layers of guitar, banjos, and cellos. This friction creates a detached coolness on some tracks—like the desperately devoted anti-love song “yr bitch”— and makes the genre-mashing on others sound even more unconventional, like the rollicking, synth-forward “Football Tour” and the punchy and grungy “WTF.” On the album’s title track, the vocals purr with digital texture as an off-kilter guitar melody spirals upwards, as if bubbling up from the bottom of a pool.…