Tyler, The Creator

Ultra-profane yet excellent rap album


If you’re reading this, it means you have somehow survived, or even averted, the collapse of civilisation precipitated by the release of Goblin (if it’s the latter, well done; if it’s the former, can we have some tinned sardines?). For this album is officially the greatest threat to our way of life since the last high-profile rap album.

Tyler, The Creator is the linchpin of rap collective Odd Future Wolf Gang Kill Them All, currently wowing hip hop with their combo of personal charisma, outré subject matter and, most importantly, creepingly funky productions with a Wu-like minimalism that allows the weirdness of its components to shine. Tyler’s commercial debut is, unsurprisingly, ultra-profane, but his considered flow seems almost bored with gore.

Tyler obviously has an uneasy relationship with himself – never mind the talk here of suicidal thoughts, Tyler repeatedly rips into bloggers, critics, hipsters and even ‘London crackers’. There’s an Eminem-esque auto-frontlash on the title track, where Tyler demolishes his public image as a skateboarding ADD horror-core brat. But the most shocking thing about the album is the length of some of the tracks, stretching up to eight minutes. In a genre where ringtones are considered an art form, that’s way more rebellious than Tyler’s trademark ‘kill people, burn s***, f*** school’ chant.

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