Tyler, the Creator hasn’t been an easy guy to like over the years. Sure, he’s funny and charismatic when he wants to be, but his confrontational and aggressively homophobic lyrics have understandably turned off a lot of listeners.
A rapper using a word like ‘faggot’ is nothing new. But for Tyler it’s not just a slur – it is used to be needlessly provocative. Stupid and offensive? Yes, but not out of character for a lyricist whose prankster persona is what endeared him to his young fanbase in the first place.
But prior to the release of ‘Flower Boy’, Tyler’s fourth album, the dialogue shifted. It became apparent that the rapper had littered this record with allusions to his sexuality and the internet reacted: has Tyler come out?
That might seem shocking given his previous remarks – many people will inevitably assume it’s just another elaborate hoax – but Tyler’s stance is simple: who are we to judge?
Being clear and unequivocal in his messaging isn’t really the point either. Tyler’s previous records have seen him take jabs at everyone else in sight, projecting his issues and insecurities outwards.
By contrast, he begins Foreword by asking rhetorical questions: “How many cars can I buy until I run out of drive? How much drive can I have until I run out of road?” These aren’t the words of a boy trying to provoke but of a man learning to reflect.
It goes beyond that, too. He’s also learned when to shut up. His verses on ‘Flower Boy’ are sparse, perfectly placed, and used to add emotional resonance to the album’s psychedelic soundscapes. For the first time, Tyler’s bars are dictated by the mood and atmosphere of the song rather than the other way around.
He has a reputation for being cold in his choice of words and beats, but ‘Flower Boy’ is strikingly warm by contrast to his previous work. Tracks like See You Again and Garden Shed are led by whizzing analogue synths and guitar reverb, while Boredom is effectively a neo-soul jam laden with gorgeous vocal harmonies.
That’s not to say Tyler has evolved from heartless misanthrope to reinvigorated Duracell bunny, because there’s sadness and mournful regret here, too. Like his old OFWGTKA comrade Frank Ocean, he uses tongue-in-cheek humour to get stuff off his chest and relate to his listeners (“Dye your hair blue, shit, I’ll do it too / Look, I smell like Chanel,” on Where This Flower Blooms).
The record isn’t entirely coherent – he breaks things up by harking back to his old style on the abrasive banger Who Dat Boy – but, if anything, the ramped up machismo only further exposes his paranoia and timidity on other tracks.
It merely confirms what we all suspected: Tyler is actually quite likeable when he’s not relying on shock factor to sell his music. He’s still a distinct character, with his bassy voice, abstract humour and graphic imagery, but for the first time we’ve been shown the other side of his personality. It isn’t as alarming as he led us to believe.
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