Review: Tyler, the Creator — CHROMAKOPIA

Tyler, the Creator
CHROMAKOPIA
Columbia Records
Released: 10.28
Tyler, the Creator = Odd Future – Frank Ocean x Wes Anderson movies + Quaaludes 

It’s the changing tides that any out-of-the-box creative mind will have to endure—a great questioning of one’s work and the still-hungry attentive system that gyrates off it. This philosophical shift in suspicion may come with some physical and emotional tax, but just like Plato’s allegory of escaping the societal “cave” and into the light of truth, their torture comes with a reward. Some shining examples could be psychedelic rock group Pink Floyd’s The Wall as frontman/bassist Roger Waters sanctions himself from all fame and family, welcoming the “comfortably numb” solace of alienation. More modern takes could be Kanye West releasing Yeezus, a stripped-back, acid house studio album matched with its iconic red electrical tape seal that screamed “fuck you” at all corporate control over creativity. You could also argue Travis Scott’s Utopia is an exoskeletal view on worldwide fame, while still grappling with a dystopian view of critic rejection after being snuffed out of multiple Grammy nominations (must be a rough life when you have your own McDonald’s meal). However, for those who want to break from the industry’s matrix to find true nirvana, you must march to the beat of your own drum… quite literally. So, cloaked in a shade of army man green, flared with a tribal set of horns and a mask of his own face, the in-your-face genre chameleon Tyler, the Creator dropped the shipping cargo of CHROMAKOPIA to level out the playing field once again. 

Bursting onto the scene in the most fiery of executions, we all expected it to be an oddball album. The release date fell on a random Monday; a deviation from the normal Friday releases on streaming systems. This tactic was precisely Tyler’s plan, so his audience could actually listen to each track intently through the week instead of smearing it into background music for the weekend. Just one look at the possible vinyl release krooked some necks with its vibrant verde color code, but no features embedded? No set list? No copyright or publication signature? Something was definitely off… If the little-to-no rollout of press didn’t catch your attention, the grim woolgathering teaser for “St. Chroma” would’ve. Tyler takes the mantle of Chroma the Great, a stern yet mythical conductor from the 1961 children’s book The Phantom Tollbooth. Tyler stomps to a rhythmic charge, followed by a single-file line of faceless rapper archetypes. The beat thwomps like shotgun rounds aimed into hardwood floors, with Primeloops’ primal shriek reversibly dissected to sound like a whimsical flute. Leading these nameless rappers into that signature shipping container, the foreboding bridge comes into play: “Can you feel the light inside? / Can you feel that fire? (Can you feel it, can you feel it? Oh).” Only for Tyler to regain the color of the world by detonating the container to explode into a skyrocketing flame. Of course, he had our attention. But now, he piqued our interest. 

Besides “St. Chroma,” stand-alone tracks like “Noid” and “Thought I Was Dead” rile up those experimental, grunge-y overtones that were made popular in Cherry Bomb. “Noid” (you better watch out, Death Grips) is a slow jazz battering to the cost of fame and the anxious aftereffects. The quick, dive bar grain from the instruments with a smashing snare and blown-speaker Fender chug is moody and almost headbang-worthy. The sampling may just be a sped-up rendition of Zambian band Ngozi Family’s “Nizakupanga Ngzo.” However, this paired with Tyler’s melodic lyrics of paranoia makes me want to barricade myself in a hotel room from the sneaking dangers of the outside world. “Thought I Was Dead” sparks rumbustious energy in its almost marching band beat and hydraulic drops. The beginning sounds like military training, yet it soon creepily grows into a New Orleans-style jazz parade, complete with heavy crumping beats, corked trumpets and some “Hollaback Girl” sounding shit woven in. It’s a “going to war” type of sound that’s perfect to blare out a weld-boxed ghetto blaster in the Gigahorse, or auxed while you nearly mow down out-of-state drivers on State Street in the Volvo 240. 

Now, most will fanboy over the more slow-handed jams that might be reminiscent of the  Flower Boy era. There’s “Judge Judy,” which explores Tyler’s fetishized taboos of bondage and… cream pies in a judgment-free environment. “Darling I” is more romantic in a no-strings-attached kind of way, especially with a lovey-dovey overlay and Snoop Dogg’s “Drop it Like it’s Hot” sampling underneath. Hell, even “Like Him,” with its empty lounge room piano, reflects hollow relationships that will truly never be well-connected. All of these take sharp turns into uncharted territories—ones that I’m sure Tyler has tried steering away from many times before. Although they’re not my preferred taste in hip-hop/R&B-inspired tracks, there’s that pencil tip darkness that reminds me of early Kid Cudi; venturing with your demons and learning to treat them as roommates instead of barriers in achieving to live life to the fullest. To each their own, I would assume. 

CHROMAKOPIA was a good listen with a handful of raw power ballads I’ve nestled closely next to the “replay” button. However, die-hard Tyler suckers will probably want me dead as I find the whole album just a “good” listen. Not quite the “best project of 2024 and if you disagree, I’ll scalp your balding locks” type of album. It’s kind of sad because I was hoping for a deeply-enriched concept album that changes how we view modern day hip-hop forever. Some theorize that Tyler was aiming big guns at a mass-produced industry that’s pre-packaging the next big money rap artist for us to absorb, then throw to the wayside. Another theory is that Tyler was orchestrating the color and life back into the music that made him, just like Chroma The Great himself. Unfortunately, it might’ve been a little bit overhyped, but it’s worth a listen. –Alton Barnhart

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