Seldom could few modern artists hold onto the die-hard cult following Tyler, the Creator had formed around him for the better part of a decade and a half. Perhaps this is because Tyler has proven himself to be one of the 2010s and the 2020s most ambitious musical artists—almost every one of his musical projects is backed by a unique aesthetic that defines him.
“CHROMAKOPIA,” the eighth studio album by Tyler, released at six in the morning EST on the Oct. 28, a highly unconventional release date and time for any modern album. Countless fans were dutifully waking up to tune into Tyler’s eighth studio album.
Even from the previewing tracks like “Noid” or “Thought I Was Dead”, it’s unlikely that anybody, even his own fans, could have anticipated the disjointed, often anxious album that they tuned into, which regularly switches moods as often as it does genres and production identities.
Does that mean that “CHROMAKOPIA” is a failure, or even style over substance? Not by any means. On the contrary, Tyler’s latest studio album is a tour de force, during which he not only effectively retreads much of his previous musical personalities but also pushes his own bar forward.
At many points, what he has on “CHROMAKOPIA” plays like the neo-soul of “Flower Boy” and “IGOR” thrown into a centrifuge with the likes of “Wolf “and “CALL ME IF YOU GET LOST”—smooth songs punctuated by solid melodies immediately contrasted by aggressive hip-hop beats and braggadocio lyricism. Tyler’s almost showing off on this album with this diversity, asserting his musical ability throughout the entire 53-minute runtime.
The downside of having so much versatility and experimentation is that some moments are expressed failures even with plenty of successes. “Noid”, one of the album’s previewing singles, is a surprisingly effective rock rap song, almost certainly helped by the memorable “someone’s keeping watch” hook, making the whole song play like a more anxious take on the fan obsession of “Colossus” from his “Wolf” album.
Another effective inclusion is the recurring audio clips from Bonita Smith, Tyler’s mother, who often interjects in between songs. Smith effectively serves as this album’s equivalent to DJ Drama on “CALL ME IF YOU GET LOST,” a series of spoken-word motifs and speeches that help emphasize the album’s themes, and it’s just as well utilized here.
As far as failures, the more annoying “Sticky” does little more than briefly kill the album’s momentum going into the second half, not even being saved by a solid ending or decent features from Lil Wayne and Sexyy Red. With a trite beat, disastrous hook and lyrics that are more crass than funny, it’s the kind of disastrously bad lyricism that I would’ve expected Tyler to have left behind long ago on “Goblin” or “Wolf”.
These moments are largely the exception, however, and the rule often reveals an album that showcases a real blend of Tyler reflecting on the past, his current self and a potential future.
Much of “CHROMAKOPIA” has two faces. The first of these is an immense egotism and confidence; an insistence that “I ain’t never had a doubt inside me” on the opening track “St. Chroma,” an assertion that he’s “the biggest out the city after Kenny” on “Rah Tah Tah,” claiming he has “too much drive” on “Thought I Was Dead.”
The other side, however, is Tyler as his most reflective and vulnerable, whether it’s the steps towards an emotional openness on the brilliant “Take Your Mask Off,” a crippling stress and fear of raising children on “Tomorrow” and “Hey Jane,” or the heartbreaking confrontation of the legacy of his absent father on “Like Him,” perfectly placed towards the album’s last leg.
All along the way, these songs are backed with the same catawampus musical approach, and the result is often a musical experience every bit as uncertain as Tyler seems to be.
I’m hesitant to call “CHROMAKOPIA” his best work yet—perhaps my personal attachment to “IGOR” is too strong, but even still, this latest album’s fragmented style and greater inconsistency probably puts as a lesser work.
“CHROMAKOPIA” is undoubtedly another artistic accomplishment in a growing streak of masterworks in his catalog. It seems that since “Flower Boy”, Tyler has established himself as a bona fide musical auteur, a voice so immediately recognizable and well-defined that it’s intrinsically tied to his albums.
In that sense, Tyler’s latest album is a success; a pure assertion of his artistic voice and vision. Daniel Caesar on the opening track, “St. Chroma” asks if we can feel the fire. “CHROMAKOPIA” ensures you’ll be engulfed by the end.
