Full Palette, Broader, Brighter Strokes

In the final moments of his 2023 victory lap, Call Me If You Get Lost: The Estate Sale, Tyler, The Creator et al promises the audience that a new era is upon us. Gone are the lavish boat shorts and gaudy plane-hopping sensibilities of the passport-crazed. In its place are ominous masks, shipping containers, a procession of marching band members, and black & white visuals being Flavor-Blasted with color. With his eighth and most unexpected studio record, Chromakopia, Tyler primes his listeners with one of the most effective surprise rollouts in recent memory. No advanced tracklist, merely a teaser track music video a week ahead of the release, one full single, and a delectable smattering of sampler snippets.

This approach has had the music world salivating to get a taste of the record in its entirety, and lo and behold, it has arrived today as of 6:00 AM EST. Tyler has long maintained that Friday releases put the average person on the backfoot, and lead to a review rat race where every media site is itching to get their opinions out before the weekend starts. He argues that a Monday release early in the morning would allow people to wake up and enjoy their commute with a brand-spanking new album that will be there first thing in the morning, rather than stay up late for the drop, and then feel forced to digest the record at marathon speed. This way, listeners have the totality of the week to really take in the lyrics, the instrumentation, and the themes of the LP before the weekend even arrives.

As a rapper firmly in his thirties, Tyler remarks upon the writing this go around, stating “The album kinda just turned into me taking a bunch of sh*t my mom told me as a kid. Now that I’m 33, all that stuff is like ‘Oh, that’s what the f**k she was talking about.’ People are getting older, folks having families now, and all I got is a new Ferrari…Life is life-ing and I don’t know, I just wanted to write about stuff that I think about when I’m dolo.” Chromakopia invariably turns towards the wisdom of his mother, Bonita Smith, who acts as both a narrator and life mentor on key moments throughout the tracklist. In the opening seconds of “St. Chroma,” she stipulates: “You are the light/ It’s not on you, it’s in you/Don’t you ever in your motherf***in life dim your light for nobody.”

A stampede of marching boots and a hushed delivery follows suit as the synths begin to blare. “Give a f*** about traditions, stop impressin’ the dead” serves as an early underlined motif, as Tyler shatters a handful of his own tried and true conventions, such as the tenth track always being a two-parter. Daniel Caesar lends his sultry vocals on the chorus just before Tyler ignites the green shipping container featuring his faceless footsoldier followers. The track is bookended with a question that Bonita already gave him the answer to – “Do I keep the light on or do I gracefully bow out?”

“Rah Tah Tah” boasts the kind of thumping stadium beat you’d find on The Estate Sale‘s backend, and invites yet another opportunity to remind the audience that he’s a “bonafide face seat, box muncher,” a sentiment from “Dogtooth” he’ll echo again on “Judge Judy”. It’s here that he finds a moment to put some respect on the winner of this decade’s biggest rap beef, Kendrick Lamar (“It’s really Odd Future, all them other n- whacked out/The biggest out the city after Kenny, that’s a fact now”).

The closing moments of the track make for a spectacularly seamless transition into lead single “Noid.” Willow Smith doubles on backing vocals while Pedro Martins shreds a contrasting rock riff. The chorus features a truly unexpected sampling of Ngozi Family that will likely trip up first-time listeners, but there is a cohesiveness that blends the many disparate elements with more and more replays that leads the track to be one of the strongest offerings over the course of the record’s 53 minutes. The single muses on the internalized paranoia that Tyler has sustained in the face of his massive breakthrough success as a rapper, and how that invites parasocialites to behave unbecomingly toward him in public settings. He’s driven to the point of constantly checking his every corner (“Left shoulder, right shoulder, left shoulder, look”), even skeptical of romantic advances, as even those could be a trap to tie him down. 

Teezo Touchdown helps establish a more romantic soundscape on “Darling, I,” which sonically occupies the same space as previous single “WUSYANAME.” T and Teezo underline commitment, the prospect of settling down, and conclude “See, monogamy, that s*** is not for me…So how can I get everything from one person?” This internal conflict of wanting love, but not having that love or sense of responsibility remain confined to a single person continues  throughout the tracklist. Follow-up “Hey Jane” delves further into the question of commitment, and especially confronts the possibility of fatherhood – a question that Tyler has grappled with on more than one occasion. He contemplates aloud the hypothetical wherein his partner Jane becomes pregnant, and whether or not he would be ready for that, nonetheless want that for himself. The lyrical tenderness on display makes this a particular standout, and exemplifies the adult scenarios that Tyler aims to address at this point in his life. He also humanizes his partner by imagining her reaction and her internal and external journey in finding the strength to tell Tyler of the news.

“I Killed You” begins with nursery rhyme lilts and hand-pat percussion before introducing a  fluttering synth refrain. The song is an ode to the transformative power of one’s own hair (a visual element that helps Tyler distinguish the many eras of his creative career). Childish Gambino rings in the outro with a breezy reminder of our own beauty being measured inward more so than externally. Rex Orange Country‘s backing vocals complement Tyler’s self-assured swagger on “Judge Judy,” the aforementioned munch anthem that reprises lyrics from his prior era. The track serves as a breather for the coming collaborative chaos on “Sticky.” Boasting vocal features from GloRilla, Sexyy Red, Lil Wayne, and Solange, this track is the most involved, passing the mic in round robin fashion. Whimsical whistles, a soaring horn section, and palpable bravado tie the tune together with maximum synergy.

Daniel Caesar returns on the hook of “Take Your Mask Off” to aid Tyler’s Chomakopersona, Saint Chroma (the very same on the cover of the album), to find solace in showing the world his true face (“And I hope you find yourself/And I hope you take your mask off”). The song also delves into the loss of identity that comes with assuming the role of a mother (Mom becoming your first name, losing your last name in place of your partner’s). Tyler diagnoses his own psychological fear regarding assuming parenthood, arriving at the conclusion that his own selfishness would make him a bad candidate for being a father, and he won’t be able to grow into that role until he finds himself again. Tenth track “Tomorrow” bucks the established tradition of a song in two halves, starting with Mama Bonita begging her son for a grandchild. Aging, fostering the next generation, and undergoing physical changes weigh heavily on Tyler’s mind. Sometimes the antidote when paralyzed in fear for the future is to simply focus on just tomorrow. One day at a time, one step in line with the marching band.

“Thought I Was Dead” gets back to the action in a big way with the final lead-up single that oozes Tyler’s best braggadocio. Military school mantras usher the listener into a guns-loaded scene where Schoolboy Q is slated to decimate on the feature. The catchiest, grimiest chorus on the whole joint is accentuated by Tyler’s insistence that he’s always got more in the chamber. Piano ballad “Like Him” manages to be the most emotionally resonant moment on the record thanks in large part to the deeply personal back-and-forth between Tyler and his mother about the absence of his father, and speaks to how we continue to carry those with us who weren’t even a part of our life. Sometimes the absence is the presence (“Mama, I’m chasing a ghost/ Do I look like him?”). The track is closed out with Mama, The Creator taking accountability for her part in his absence, and how that has trickled down to her son and his lack of male role models in his life. It’s no coincidence then, that Tyler had to become his own biggest positive male presence, and why his insecurities lead him to worry about how he would perform as a father.

Doechii‘s recent ascent continues on “Balloon,” serving up one of the most memorable, energetic  collaborative performances throughout all 14 tracks. Closer “I Hope You Find Your Way Home” feels not only like a bookend for the record proper, but a coda to the very title of Tyler’s previous LP. Solange assists in closing the door on the Chromakopia experience as finger-picked piano lowers the curtain on one final message from his mother.

On the whole, for coming out what seems far sooner than anyone could have imagined following CMIYGL, Chromakopia finds Tyler, The Creator crafting a sonic playground plastered with hues, painting vibrant strokes of his personal life more so than any offering prior. Eclectic, introspective, and thoroughly surprising, it acts as a concerted effort to never stagnate in the face of getting older.