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Softening his voice allows Tyler, the Creator to deliver the kinds of jazzy melodies he’s been playing at all along, this time without a buffer of a proxy, which opens up space for the lyrics to get a little more direct. Where it used to conjure demons, it now evokes cherubs and children. He used to pitch his voice down deep to increase the menace, but he’s running it way up high now. IGOR centers emotions and musicality, focusing primarily on skills as a writer of love songs that Tyler accrued across back-catalogue gems like “She,” “Awkward,” “Analog 2,” “Fucking Young / Perfect,” and “See You Again.” IGOR’s still packed with guests giving pretty, understated, and uncredited vocal performances, but Tyler’s center stage singing with them this time, albeit through quirky filters. If you came to hear witty two- or three-verse rap hits, you might want to march to DJ Khaled’s latest, Father of Asahd, instead. Tyler raps when he feels like it now, sometimes not at all. 5, doesn’t share Flower Boy’s interest in bracing Tyler’s day-one fans for change. Lonely” was a gauzy outlier on the Flower Boy album, but two years later, it’s looking like the shape of things to come. He seemed to have the most fun leading the crowd in sing-alongs, not rattling off the tongue-twisting lines that used to be his main focus. The raps kept the record rooted in the lineage of its forebears, but the subject matter couldn’t be further removed from the era when the message was “ Kill people, burn shit, fuck school.” At live shows in the wake of the album’s release, it was easy to surmise where Tyler’s interests were taking him. But the question of what to do with that voice - a low ramble reverberating from the depth of what seems possible for a human, warped at times to sound even more devilish, so that when it dressed you down, it sounded like words from Baphomet - lingered.įlower Boy planted softer voices around all Tyler like the bed of sunflowers on the cover, it made the marquee artist seem like less of a forbidding figure. What came off three albums ago as studious Pharrell and Kanye fan service from an auteur still picking up chops as a songwriter has blossomed into a robust artistic vision worthy of its heroes’ participation. A sound that began as a study in contrasting grotesqueries buffed away the rust and divots. Tyler, the Creator has been working on himself, from the ironic psychiatrist’s couch breakdown of 2011’s Goblin through the crude but occasionally sobering deep thoughts of 2013’s Wolf, the abrasive venting and late-night longing of 2015’s Cherry Bomb, and 2017’s Flower Boy’s late-stage revelations.

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Eventually, iconoclasts have to learn how to be icons and work harder than their predecessors, or be brought low by a new generation of feisty youths like themselves.

What they didn’t see coming is what happens after you incite a revolution. The kids were all right we’re closing the decade in more mess than we started it in. If you made it into a room to see the collective perform live in the year it released Earl, Rolling Papers, Bastard, and BlackenedWhite, you were treated to a carnival of youth rage whose point, if you could see past the veneer of chaos and gore, was that the way we run things is wrong, and there’ll be hell to pay if we don’t change course. Odd Future’s game plan at the top of the decade seemed to be to topple the existing idols and stomp on the broken pieces. You can get what you want if you try, to paraphrase the Rolling Stones, but you’re in for a mess if you haven’t considered the consequences. Prometheus’s reward for granting humanity the gift of fire was exquisite torment and the grief of knowing his blessing led to a great deal of warring and suffering. Frankenstein’s grisly experiment in replicating the gift of human life brings him pain, failure, and death. Much like the story of the doomed Greek Titan and fire thief named in its subtitle, English novelist Mary Shelley’s Frankenstein or, the Modern Prometheus is a cautionary tale about the dark side of ambition. Tyler, the Creator’s not a freak or a goblin or a monster anymore.