Unsettled eighth CHROMAKOPIA splurges out Tyler’s crises.
At mvm, we’ve delved into Tyler’s career many-a time on here. A true connoisseur of stylist reach, Tyler’s seven-record-milestone servitude to the ever-expanding hip hop universe, makes him a household name and a fan-favourite for those who don’t keep a close eye on the genre as they would any other.
From the purposefully crude to the delightfully tasteful through his 13-year solo journey, Tyler knows no bounds to what he can and can’t do. Now, we take a look at his eighth sepia-squelched studio record CHROMAKOPIA this year, as it breaks the long-lived two-year project window release – aswell as being released on a Monday – advised to listen more on your commute to and from a job you most definitely hate. The project itself has been expertly hidden behind the curtain with Tyler even going as far as to say that there will be no new music at all for 2024. So while it is a heavily-unexpected album, the question will be whether it will be in contention for the AOTY spot come Christmas. The mystery videos and teaser shots implies that CHROMAKOPIA is a high-concept piece of work, edging listeners to listen several times over to fully unpick. So through the might of the working week, that’s what I’ve done.
Tyler, The Creator has always invested in the go hard or go home mentality, aswell as aiming to stray far from the well-trodden path making up his own routes – no matter how difficult it may be to traverse. 2019’s Igor – argued as Tyler’s best work to date – smashed the roof ceiling in terms of stylistic reach. Universally renowned Flower Boy prior, reaffirmed Tyler’s cultural quarters in the hip-hop dorm – certainly after the response to Cherry Bomb was less than desired.
But while the might IGOR appears on many fans’ Mount Rushmore, I fear CHROMAKOPIA may not even make the shortlist of spots. Unlike IGOR, there is nothing that is evidently striking in comparison. It features the usual plethora of Tyler-isms: feral barks, angelic harmonies, a descending scale of nostalgic electronics, raw and affronted lyrical delivery, and the usual suspects of surprise switchbacks. But it feels oddly half-baked, perhaps dazzled by the wealth of too many music ideas bursting at the seams. Perhaps down to the topics it dives into, the album manifests itself into an apparent state of confusion, switching this way and that as Tyler goes through an episode in the booth – perhaps at his most vulnerable state. The music tries to no better than comforting him either.
CHROMAKOPIA is made up of the most unsettling sounds ever produced – St Chroma sets a gospel army march while Rah Tah Tah settles back into the crude territory of WOLF amongst the feral barks. Noid, meanwhile – the displaced headhunter of the album – blows through truncated guitar riffs sampled rom 1977’s Ngozi Family and swooping vocals as Tyler growls and shifts, “Triple checking if I locked the door/I know every creak that’s in the floor/Motherfucker, I’m paranoid,” in a fierce, hard-hitting beat with a tight production to boot. Darling, I is a loving tell to the women he keeps falling in love with, but the lyrics follow a similar theme to the rest – Tyler’s mind keeps wandering, as if this state of paranoia is making him question every boundless thought that enters his thinking cap.
It was evident that Tyler picked Monday for an album to be released because it was more fitting for the album to be listened to through commute time. It doesn’t get any more reflective than on Hey Jane. Tyler vomits out thoughts into words a mile a minute, as he questions fatherhood, pregnancy scares and self-worth – (“I ain’t wanna tell me, I look in the mirror, like, damn I failed me”) – the searing blinker remains on and monotonous as if he’s never going to make that junction turn. Sticky is a catchy limerick jettisoning the features two-fold on the record, met with punctual horns, which seems to take us out of the humbling therapy session we’ve been having with Tyler at this moment. Oddly enough, it’s followed up by Take Your Mask Off which brings us back to the leather lounger through loose self-diss track to himself, “you talk a lot of shit to not even be number one.” Then the next minute, we’ve got Thought I Was Dead, a beefy cocksure displacement about himself and how he’s seemingly the hottest topic of conversation. Cartoony beat Balloon is oddly insufferable and I Hope You Find Your Way Home feels like a concluding piece, but we’re more lost than we were at the start of this manic episode.
TYLER SHARES HIS GREATEST FEARS IN A RECORD that’s seemingly ALL OVER THE PLACE. MAYBE THAT’S THE POINT.
On the start of Noid, Tyler almost give us a prelude to what to expect. “THINGS FEEL OUT OF ORDER” he bellows. In many ways, this record is disjointed, unsettling and seemingly incomplete in parts. Perhaps this is the point in more ways than one. If CHROMAKOPIA is a mirrored reflection into Tyler’s mental stasis through sound and mind, what better way than for the listeners to feel the same?
While it doesn’t capture the cognitive consistency of Igor or even the conceptual narrative on CMIYGL as the sparse commercially “radio friendly” melodies indicate here, it still shows Tyler, The Creator as a great visionary and a true artist to his craft, as he whittles out a record so original and true to its word.
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