Nearly a decade separates us from Bruno Mars’ last solo outing, but the cat strolls back into frame like he never left the building.
I Just Might, the lead single from his fourth LP The Romantic (dropping 27 February), finds Mars doing what he does supremely well: channelling the ghost of Soul Train past whilst keeping one Cuban heel firmly planted in 2026.
The Sound: Congas, Chromatics and Pure Swagger
Co-produced with D’Mile (the man behind Silk Sonic’s Grammy sweep), I Just Might borrows its DNA from Leo Sayer’s 1976 gem You Make Me Feel Like Dancing and Redbone’s Come and Get Your Love.
But Mars doesn’t merely photocopy; he reconstructs. The track opens with congas that snap and pop like fresh vinyl, establishing a rhythmic bed that would make Mongo Santamaría nod in approval.
The production sparkles with period-correct detail: a distorted guitar line panned hard right, holding space rather than shouting for attention; major seventh chords that drip with that classic 70s club sophistication; and a chromatic bass walk that lifts the chorus into another dimension entirely.
Mars’ vocal technique here mirrors Otis Redding and Al Green, that husky warmth threading through even his most energetic delivery.
Listen closely and you’ll catch the false cord compression he deploys on certain syllables (“girl,” “heart”), adding grit without sacrificing the song’s fundamentally accessible vibe.
He keeps one foot in smooth soul whilst letting the other tap into something rougher, more lived-in.
The Lyrics: Beauty Meets the Beat
“What good is beauty if your booty can’t find the beat?” Mars asks, delivering the kind of cheeky wordplay that would make Prince smirk from whatever cosmic dancefloor he now commands.
The premise sits simple and timeless: boy sees girl, boy asks DJ to spin something funky, boy needs proof she can move before he makes his play.
The call-and-response structure (“Hey, Mr. DJ / Play a song for this pretty little lady”) channels disco’s communal spirit whilst the repeated “doo-doo, doo-doo” hook, brilliantly stupid in its simplicity, will lodge itself in your brain for days.
Mars doesn’t overreach lyrically; he knows the dancefloor demands economy, not poetry. The bridge strips things back (“bring it all the way down, down, down”) before building tension like a proper soul revue, giving the final chorus room to explode.
The Visual: Five Brunos, One Groove
Directed by Mars alongside Daniel Ramos, the video serves up retro kitsch with genuine affection rather than ironic distance.
Multiple versions of Mars, all decked in emerald-green suits, populate a soundstage bathed in amber and crimson lights.
The aesthetic nods to Soul Train, sure, but also to OutKast’s Hey Ya! video (that same multiplication trick, that same vintage warmth).
The choreography feels loose. Mars lounges on the floor, swaggers through steps, lets his body language sell the song’s playful confidence.
The production design commits fully: wood-panelled walls, those circular ceiling lights creating bokeh halos, vintage microphones and amplifiers. Nothing here screams “2026.” That’s entirely the point.
Where It Sits in the Mars Universe
Coming off the monstrous success of Die With a Smile (five weeks atop the Billboard Hot 100) and APT. with Rosé (currently nominated for three Grammys), Mars faces the challenge of reintroducing his solo self without losing the collaborative magic that’s defined his recent run.
I Just Might opts for safety. It sounds unmistakably Bruno, hitting familiar marks with professional polish.
Some critics already label it “generic” or “flat,” suggesting it lacks the instant impact of Locked Out of Heaven or 24K Magic. They’re not entirely wrong. The song doesn’t reinvent; it refines.
But perhaps that misses the point. Mars positions himself as a conservationist, keeping the flame of Stax and Motown burning in an era dominated by hyperpop and drill. His consistency is the brand.
Yet there’s commercial calculation in this conservatism. In 2026, when Spotify’s algorithm rewards recognisability over experimentation, when TikTok virality demands immediate hooks, Mars’ refusal to chase trends becomes its own form of rebellion.
He bets that audiences crave comfort, that a generation raised on playlists titled “Throwback Vibes” will embrace a new song that sounds like an old favourite. He’s probably right.
The streaming era paradoxically rewards artists who sound timeless because they never quite belonged to any specific moment.
Mars perfected this trick years ago; I Just Might simply doubles down on a winning formula at precisely the moment when listeners seem exhausted by constant reinvention.
The album title The Romantic telegraphs his lane perfectly. This remains music about courting, about bodies finding rhythm together, about analogue warmth in a digital world.
The upcoming tour (kicking off 10 April in Las Vegas, featuring Anderson .Paak, Victoria Monét, RAYE and Leon Thomas) promises to be a revue in the classic sense: a night of showmanship where phones stay in pockets and hips don’t lie.
The Verdict
I Just Might won’t shock you, but it will move you, literally. Mars crafts dancefloor communion with the confidence of someone who’s studied the masters and absorbed their lessons.
The song doesn’t pretend to change music’s direction; it celebrates what already works, executed with such skill that you forgive its lack of risk.
In a streaming landscape where songs increasingly serve as TikTok fodder, designed for 15-second bursts, Mars builds something that demands three minutes of your attention.
The bridge actually functions as a bridge. The production breathes. The hooks hook not through meme potential but through actual craft.
When Mars croons “I just might make her my baby,” you believe him, not because of lyrical innovation but because he sells it with the kind of warm charisma that made Soul Train a Saturday ritual.
If The Romantic delivers nine tracks of this quality, we’re in for an album that doesn’t push boundaries but reminds us why those boundaries got drawn in the first place.
The dancefloor awaits. And Bruno Mars, multiple green suits and all, absolutely knows what to do when he takes it to the floor.