![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() The guestlist receives the same treatment, rendered into near-indistinguishable sample triggers and stacked layers. His gruff baritone register becomes regular weaponry, often pitch-shifted and buried in the mix for texture more than impact. Ironically, IGOR is also Tyler’s first stroke at a grandiose pop record that demands our attention by cloaking and morphing his voice more than he’s ever done. It’s an understated breakup album tucked somewhere between unrequited and love triangle ergo, it’s Tyler’s queerest work ever. No, he spends 39 minutes hurling himself into traffic just to get their attention, before resignation strikes and peace of mind returns. (The album also reminds us of how Tyler’s an often-formidable MC when he applies himself.) IGOR’s purview is more concerned with expanding the latter skill: Tyler’s no longer shy or coy about unnamed (or imaginary) suitors, and he doesn’t look both ways before crossing his lover’s mind. Its predecessor Flower Boy provided the closest substitute for that reckoning: a polished introspection on celebrity, romance, and memory that reigned in many of Tyler’s brash sonic whims while making due with his potential as a masterful pop writer. IGOR is unconcerned with a reckoning that may never arrive, which proves one of its biggest assets. Nevertheless, indulging his output means reconciling a deep lean into a ceaseless catch-22: His potential was limitless from the beginning, but does he deserve our attention as he continues to turn his back toward his past transgressions? Is Tyler’s arc truly redemptive when we’ve reckoned with his havoc anyway? Conversely, what concession or apology does one expect from an artist approaching a decade of popularity? How sincere would it be, all considered? Tired, indeed, because Tyler’s penchant for reinvention is as baseline as his green bowler hat once was as he grew, the music followed suit. Divulging the checkered history of Tyler, The Creator’s meteoric shock-rap rise feels as tired as the feigned disbelief over a brighter, queerer transformative arc most folks could see coming from the ashes of the old Odd Future store on Fairfax. ![]()
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