YNW Melly isn’t the first rapper to release an album while in jail awaiting trial for murder, but he may be the first accused of killing his own crewmates. Last October, Florida prosecutors allege, Melly and rapper YNW Bortlen shot and killed two fellow YNW rappers then staged the crime scene to make it appear like a drive-by. Melly, who surrendered himself to police in February and faces life in prison or the death penalty, has maintained his innocence and continues to carry on his rap career as best he can. But judging by the relative silence that’s greeted his debut album Melly vs. Melvin, his commercial prospects may be almost dire as his legal ones.

Melly vs. Melvin has a difficult public-relations needle to thread, presenting a portrait of a teenager who definitely didn’t do what the prosecutors have accused him of but also, you know, totally could have. “I’m a slimeball and I’ll admit it,” he raps on the opener “Two Face,” pinning his transgressions on an alternate personality. The record’s cover quite literally depicts those two faces, one sweetly boyish and looking no older than his 20 years, the other considerably more hardened. It’s a powerful concept, evoking the dueling images that the media often uses to depict young black men and suggesting how easily their portrayals can be spun. It’s a shame the idea is wasted on an album as superficial as Melly vs. Melvin, which pads Melly’s precious few original ideas with second-rate material and third-rate Young Thug-isms.

Since Melly’s been behind bars for most of the year, it’s unclear when this material was recorded. The murder allegations are never specifically mentioned, yet several songs vaguely create the illusion that he’s addressing them. “Can you hear me, father? Can you please send me some signs?/I’ve been going through some things, there’s been a lot on my mind,” he pleads on “Waitin on You,” along with a pledge to keep praying.

Melly’s contrition isn’t especially convincing, however, nor is he effective at engendering sympathy. It doesn’t help that his default persona is downright sour. He directs “Suicidal” to the “stupid bitch” who “took my heart and made it bleed.” On “Stay Up” he offers this peevish retort: “Bitch, I ain’t mentally challenged.” Twice he berates women in his life for having had, or having considered, an abortion.

On his previous projects, including January’s considerably more enjoyable We All Shine, Melly distinguished himself from his many SoundCloud variants with a ’90s R&B influence that he employed on his most sumptuous songs. But aside from a few outliers like “Bang Bang,” which samples the Nelly/Akon/Ashanti track “Body on Me,” and “Nobody’s Around,” which slows things down with a bit of an R&B bump, there isn’t much of that spirit here. Melly began the year as a rising star sharing a video with Kanye West, but even morbid curiosity and the sordid details of his case haven’t done much to sustain the public’s interest in him, and assuming that Melvin is the best music he had left in the vault, that doesn’t bode well for his prospects, either.