CHROMAKOPIA is Tyler, The Creator's midlife crisis

One day you’re an outspoken, rage-filled teen with the world at his feet, and before you know it, your friends have kids, and your mantle is filled with awards as the walls close in. Indisputably, Tyler, The Creator has cemented himself as a visionary over the last few years. Between his chart-topping albums, 2019's IGOR and 2021's Call Me If You Get Lost, and establishing himself as a fashion brand with Golf Wang and Golf Le Fleur, the tides have changed. So, where to next? It would seem, further inward.

The shipping container making whistle-stops in the promotional burst since CHROMAKOPIA’s announcement on October 16th's existence becomes clearer. Baggage comes in all shapes and sizes, and for Tyler, it’s a militant green container. One that contains his emotional world – one which he swiftly destroys in the first teaser video.

From the offset, we’re introduced to the overarching narrator – Tyler's mother – who chapters the matter throughout his seventh album. Front-loaded, "St Chroma" – allegedly the masked protagonist adorning the artwork – builds with a marching chant of the title. Eventually reckoning with himself as an artist, this plays out in Tyler's verse while his mother’s words crackle to life. Igniting any semblance of fragility, the braggadocio chapter of "Rah Tah Tah" is brief, lasting all of 2:45 – it’ll keep the old-head ragers at bay – with Tyler also loudly claiming to “Biggest out the city after Kenny.” After a powerhouse transition into "NOID", Tyler digs his heels into having consistently been outspoken regarding his relationship with fandom. In a year which has seen the likes of Chappell Roan calling out hideous behaviours from fanatics – the visuals (featuring Ayo Edebiri) likening phones to guns – a somewhat throwback to a line from "Massa" where he professed “I’m paranoid I sleep with a gun," – the perils of fame/infamy play out with urgency. While a minimal aspect to the album, they make for an impacting front-load, whereas the rest plays as a gamut of weighty introspection.

By large the largest portion of the album is given over to the idea and/or possibility of rearing a child. “Hey Jane” – also the name of a US-based virtual abortion provider – alludes to Tyler potentially being a father through a narrative flip where he takes on an empathetic feminist stance alongside the unknown apparently London-based Jane. Throughout this portion he reaches back into the IGOR pocket, the bombast flow far gone and in its wake smokes sultry rnb with a Tyler-twist. “Sticky”, which brings together Lil Wayne, Sexy Red and Glorilla, bolsters things with a swaggering proverbial dick-swinging, before finding momentum once again after the low point of the meandering "Judge Judy" which, although featuring Childish Gambino, offers little to the Tyler-effacing journey in earnest.

The Schoolboy Q featuring "Thought I Was Dead" brings back the military motif. Emerging out of the inner focus and back into the boots-on-the-ground reality that exists outside of the anxieties. In its final section, CHROMAKOPIA digs deep as Tyler’s relationship with his father – and how this, in turn, will affect any future spawn – concludes. A therapeutic spilling that shimmers into the levity of "Balloon" which brings Tyler, The Creator outside of his shipping container. As Doechii – who herself has turned in a recent mixtape that digs deep into the stickiness of her own life, Alligator Bites Never Heal – finds an unhinged moment to properly slap back to reality. The closing moments of "I Hope You Find Your Way Home" turn that levity and reality into a heartwarming finale that pulls the pegs out of the container letting to fall to the ground, as his mother expresses her pride, looping back to him being true to himself.

CHROMAKOPIA's execution has been well thought out and finessed – the internet pages have been rife with unpacking and unpicking every little element – but, like life it is messy and it is truthful. The sepia-toned art and authoritative aesthetic may not carry throughout, but, seemingly this is an introduction to the grander scheme. Instead, its colour exists within, beneath the mask.

With the potential to be a divisive record amongst his fandom ranks, it pulls from Tyler’s cachet of sounds and themes but often doubles down while introducing new ones ("I Killed You"). In totality, it's as free as he's ever sounded. Where before he was a cultural antagonist, now he’s a matured rapper and entrepreneur with grander visions and grander fears – everything here fits that bill; CHROMAKOPIA continues piecing together the Tyler, The Creator puzzle without making the picture any clearer.