8.5
out of 10
At this point in his career, Tyler, the Creator has nothing to prove. With three consecutive excellent albums under his belt, his talents as a producer and a songwriter are well-established. The days when Tyler was an immature kid struggling to realize his potential on bloated concept albums are long gone. His success and maturation have changed his life in profound ways, and he addresses them with pomp and vulnerability on CHROMAKOPIA.
CHROMAKOPIA sees Tyler take on another concept with a clear set of themes and sonic motifs. At the heart of the concept is Tyler’s reckoning with where to take his career, and he uses symbols of light and fire to represent his drive to create. “St. Chroma,” the opening track, is the album’s most concentrated meditation on his uncertainty, featuring dueling sentiments with accordingly disparate sounds. During the first 90 seconds, which are led by words of motivation from Tyler’s mother, he whispers braggadocious bars over synth countermelodies and a thumping backbeat that sounds like hundreds of boots simultaneously slamming into concrete. The second half has a very different complexion, as the more jazzy and relaxed production lends itself to confessions like “mirror got me (Got me), thinkin' about my bookend (I'm done).”
Transparency is a theme across the LP. On “Noid,” the album’s lead single, Tyler details the stresses and fears of constantly being surveilled by parasocial fans on an instrumental that is fittingly uncomfortable and anxiety-inducing. “Darling, I,” whose chorus is as hypnotic as any in 2024, is an absurdly fun tune that captures his inability to say goodbye to the thrills of polygamy. Its successor on the tracklist, “Hey Jane,” follows this narrative from a much more serious angle. In one of the most intimate moments of his career, Tyler opens up about a sexual encounter with a friend that turned into an unwanted pregnancy and forced him to consider whether or not he was ready to be a father. His effortless delivery and the lack of a chorus enhance the conversational feel of the track, while the subtle compositional differences between his verse and the one he writes from Jane’s perspective are emotionally evocative.
Whereas previous projects like IGOR followed narratives the whole way through, CHROMAKOPIA is more of a mixed bag. Personal identity and struggles are at the base of every track, but one idea is never teased out for more than two or three tracks at a time. Rather, the most prominent ideas are broken up by entries whose topical focuses sometimes feel miscellaneous. These intervening tracks, however, still constitute some of the most memorable on the entire record. “I Killed You” reflects on the power of hair as a vehicle for free self-expression among Black Americans. “Rah Tah Tah” is a boisterous and in-your-face declaration of wealth and sexual prowess. Tyler submits his candidate for feature list of the year with “Sticky,” as Lil Wayne, Glo Rilla, and Sexxy Redd all bring substantial thump with their takes on the song’s belligerent and sexually liberated attitude. The up-front and syncopated kick drum pattern recalls Lil Mama’s “Lip Gloss,” while the trim vocal harmonies on the chorus make the “it’s getting sticky” refrain many times more infectious.
Despite the fantastic qualities of these tracks, their placement on the tracklist leaves distance between thematically consonant songs that may have had more impact back to back. Of course, not every related song has to be consecutive, but some of the ordering feels almost random. “Tomorrow” is a gorgeous and moving introspection on getting older and the expectations of settling down that come with it. “Like Him,” which is handily CHROMAKOPIA’s most emotionally impactful moment, is a tear-inducing ballad where Tyler centers his non-existent relationship with his dad. It seems counterintuitive that these would be separated by “Thought I Was Dead,” another booming and emphatic indictment of life in the public eye.
The only other glaring weak point is the penultimate “Balloon,” whose playful looping progression and dynamic flows are the only things saving it from complete obscurity. The subject matter covered is approached with much less depth than in other places on the album. Additionally, Doechii’s feature leaves much to be desired, though “I air this bitch out like a queef” is an image listeners will not soon forget.
Doechii’s feature is the only especially weak one, as Tyler once again proves that he is a master of getting the right artists exactly where he needs them. Though many of the features are no more than backing vocalists, their contributions add essential layers that make for more robust sound collages. Daniel Caesar’s gentle harmonies give the chorus of “Take Your Mask Off” its dreamy quality, while the aforementioned “Darling, I” would not be the same without Teezo Touchdown.
For all of its self-awareness and intimacy, CHROMAKOPIA still points to a level of ego and reverence for material wealth that, while not malicious, is a little concerning. It’s uncomfortable when Tyler implies that his designer clothing brand failed because his fans aren’t “racked enough.” What’s more, the abundance of ostentatious bars makes it worth wondering if Tyler sometimes gets too preoccupied with flexing. IGOR shows what he can do when he devotes an entire album to a character and a narrative, and he has yet to release a project so focused since. There is absolutely nothing wrong with creating a tracklist of diverse ideas that don’t all serve a singular plot, but when an album has such related and compelling themes, knowing they could have come together more succinctly is frustrating.
Slightly disjointed sequencing aside, nothing can take away from the fact that CHROMAKOPIA is Tyler’s catchiest crop of tracks to date. When his career is over, which may not be too far off if his suggestions are genuine, this album should be considered right alongside his last three as some of the best work of his career.