Amid mainstream rap's stagnant waters,
Tyler, The Creator can feel like a glitch in the system. While contemporaries reckon against trap fatigue or labor for social media relevancy, the maverick rapper-producer exists on an island of his own, sailing over the horizon like an indifferent mystic every 2 years to deliver another singular LP. But where the recent
IGOR and
CMIYGL served up vibrant, neatly structured narratives, his seventh studio album,
Chromakopia, proves a little harder to decipher -- this is
Tyler at his most earnest, but also his most uneven.
"Give a f*** about traditions, stop impressing the dead" runs searching opener "St. Chroma," and at first glance the album seems intent on breaking them: it's his first since 2011's
Goblin without a divided track ten, the first to not feature his signature "ayo," and most importantly, the first to break his two-year release pattern since his 2009 debut,
Bastard. "St. Chroma,"
Tyler's strongest intro to date, is an immediate collage of intent, flip-flopping from scratchy militarism to soaring gospel before making way for the equally explosive "Rah Tah Tah" and "NOID." But while this militia-like opening trio create a brilliant, unified new sound, the rest of the album drops it abruptly: "Darling I," "Take Your Mask Off," and "Judge Judy" sound a little like
Flower Boy pastiches (the latter proving a particular lowlight with its grating "juuuuuuudge" chorus), while "Balloon" pierces the album's pensive closers with a misplaced, funfair-like irreverence.
Tyler has produced his best material while building all-encompassing worlds for his ideas -- the drifting summerscapes of
Flower Boy, the chromatic heartbreak of
IGOR -- in contrast,
Chromakopia can feel both impulsive and reiterative.
Yet while
Chromakopia's soundscapes do little to break the mold, his words tell a different story. The central St Chroma character appears to represent a masking of the truest self;
Tyler spends much of the album unpacking his heritage, sexual preferences, and most surprisingly, potential fatherhood. Some of the moments here are among the most candid of his career: "Hey Jane" is a raw, sometimes ugly back-and-forth between
Tyler and his potential child's mother, "Noid" lashes wildly at parasocial relationships and fame-driven paranoia, and "Like Him" sees
Tyler "chasing a ghost" at the recognition of his father's features. The 33-year-old rapper's fear of ageing comes to a culmination on the beautifully nocturnal "Tomorrow"; hypnotically unfurling his regrets,
Tyler shadows
Kanye's iconic "Welcome to Heartbreak" with a conflicted "my brodie had another baby, that's like number two¿ and all I got is photos of my 'Rari and some silly suits."
Chromakopia is less of a cohesive statement than
Tyler's fans are used to hearing; it's erratic and candid at once, a strange pressure cooker of boasts and doubts that falls out of step with its deftly sequenced and thematically tight predecessors. But these are the sounds at the precipice of change -- perhaps it's fitting that
Tyler can't quite package himself as neatly this time around. ~ David Crone