Tyler, The Creator: CHROMAKOPIA Review – Time Crisis | hip hop

One day you're an outspoken, angry teenager with the world at your feet, and before you know it, your friends have kids and your coat is full of accolades as the walls close in. Undeniably, Tyler, the Creator, has cemented himself as a visionary in recent years. Between his top albums of 2019 IGOR and 2021 Call me if you get lostAfter establishing himself as a fashion brand with Golf Wang and Golf Le Fleur, the tide changed. So where next? It seems further inside.

Since then, the freight container has been whistling in the advertising storm CHROMACOPYWith the announcement on October 16th, the existence becomes clearer. Luggage comes in all shapes and sizes, and for Tyler it's a militant green container. One that contains his emotional world – one that he quickly destroys in the first teaser video.

Right from the start we are introduced to the overarching narrator – Tyler's mother – who addresses the topic in chapters of his seventh album. “St. Chroma” – supposedly the masked protagonist adorning the artwork – with a marching chant of the title. That he ultimately reckons with himself as an artist plays out in Tyler's verses as his mother's words come to life. The swagger chapter of “Rah Tah Tah” is short, lasting all of 2:45, to ignite any semblance of fragility – it’ll keep the old-timers at bay – and Tyler also loudly claims: “After Kenny, he’s the biggest guy out of the city.” .” After a powerful transition to “NOID,” Tyler makes it a point to remain open about his relationship with the fandom. In a year when the likes of Chappell Roan denounced abhorrent behavior by bigots – the images (featuring Ayo Edebiri) comparing phones to guns – there is something reminiscent of a line from “Massa” in which he declared: “I I'm paranoid when I sleep with a gun – the dangers of fame and shame play out with urgency. Despite being a minimal aspect of the album, they make for an impressive frontload, while the rest is a gamut of weighty introspection.

Most of the album is dedicated to the idea and/or possibility of raising a child. In a narrative twist, “Hey Jane” alludes to the possibility that Tyler might be a father, taking an empathetic feminist stance alongside the unknown, apparently London-based Jane. During this section he reaches back into the IGOR Pocket, the bombast flow is far gone and in its wake smokes sensual RNB with a Tyler–Twist. “Sticky,” which brings together Lil Wayne, Sexy Red and Glorilla, backs things up with a swaggering, proverbial tail-swinging before picking up momentum after the nadir of the meandering “Judge Judy,” which, despite featuring Childish Gambino, offers little is coming to the Tyler-erasing journey in earnest.

Schoolboy Q with the words “Thought I Was Dead” brings back the military motif. Out of inner focus and back into the on-ground reality that exists outside of fears. In the last section
CHROMACOPY delves deep into how Tyler's relationship with his father comes to an end – and how this will, in turn, affect future offspring. A therapeutic outpouring that shimmers in the lightness of “Balloon,” bringing Tyler, the Creator, out of his shipping container. As Doechii – who herself recently turned in a mixtape that delves deep into the stickiness of her own life – alligator Bites never heal – finds an unhinged moment to properly return to reality. The closing moments of “I Hope You Find Your Way Home” transform this lightness and reality into a heartwarming finale that rips the stakes from the container and drops them to the ground as his mother expresses her pride and comes back to the truth that he has himself.

CHROMACOPY's execution is well thought out and clever – the internet sites are full of unpacking and picking out every little element – but it is, like life, messy and truthful. The sepia-toned art and governing aesthetic may not be consistent, but apparently this is an introduction to the larger scheme. Instead, its color exists within, beneath the mask.

Because it has the potential to cause division within its fan base, it draws on Tyler's cachet of sounds and themes but often doubles down on them by introducing new ones (“I Killed You”). Overall, it's as free as he's ever sounded. Once a cultural antagonist, now he's a mature rapper and entrepreneur with bigger visions and bigger fears – everything here fits that bill; CHROMACOPY continues to piece together the Tyler, the Creator puzzle without making the picture any clearer.