CHROMAKOPIA by Tyler, the Creator: Analysis and Review
Breaking all of Tyler's well-established traditions, CHROMAKOPIA is his most personal and emotional work yet
Intro
You might have noticed that I’ve put “Analysis” in the title for this review. That’s because after a few months of really digging my fingernails into the dirt of music and art, I finally feel confident to analyze the works I review in addition to evaluating their quality. (also, no more memes. sorry. too much mood whiplash—but I’ll add them back if y’all want them bad enough). That’s going to start with some theories and ideas I have about Tyler’s new project, which I truly believe is one of his best yet.
Instead of just recapping everything the album contains as I review it, I’m going to break the album down by theme, going back to my original format of evaluating each track individually—just not in order this time.
With that said, Tyler’s newest project is a well-timed break from what fans are used to. When he first dropped a snippet of “St. Chroma” a little over two weeks ago, everyone was speculating about a new, darker character—the general consensus was that this project would mark Tyler’s “Yeezus” era, characterized by a darker tone and more aggressive lyrical content. We got some of that on this album, but it ended up being more of an amalgamation of past and new styles, not just one angry mood.
Similar to the way it blends musical genres, CHROMAKOPIA is a mishmash of several loosely connected themes. The overarching narrative is Tyler’s battle with the obligations of life and his coming-of-age of sorts, especially a perspective on how that evolution affects his relationship with his fans, his family, and his romance. The end result is a beautiful mess of great lyricism, incredibly creative sampling and production—as is typical of Tyler—and some amazing vocal performances. With that, let’s dive into the themes of this work, starting with:
Tyler’s Disconnect From the Musical Industry
CHROMAKOPIA begins as an incredibly boastful album. “St. Chroma,” the opening track, plasters a choral declaration of “I’m gon’ make it out” through the first verse, and it’s a theme that carries through the whole song—the music itself is an expression of Tyler’s rise to fame, building a gradual crescendo that ends with possibly the greatest beat drop of the year which puts even Ken Carson to shame.
The secondary theme of “St. Chroma,” however, which is just as present as its inspirational message, is the idea of resisting the industry: the first voice we hear on the album is that of his mother telling him to never “dim your light for nobody”—and Tyler has certainly carried out that wisdom, taking crazy creative leaps with each new project, not discouraged by the negative critical reception to albums like Cherry Bomb.
El Segundo felt like colosseum
P said I could do it too, and boy, did I believe him
I built a path of freedom 'cause them words that he said
Give a fuck about tradition, stop impressin' the dead, ah
I'm gon' make it out, promise I'm gon' make it out
Mama, I'm gon' make it out, pussy, I'm gon' make it out
I ain't never had a doubt inside me
And if I ever told you that I did, I'm fuckin' lyin', can you feel the light?
Discussing the opener is probably also a good place to break down exactly what Tyler means by the word “chromakopia,” and I think the music video he released with the snippet of this song makes it very clear. Color is a pretty huge motif of this album, with black-and-white visuals representing negative emotions and vice versa. When his vinyl trailer transitions from the song “Like Him” (an immensely emotional song about his father’s absence) to the song “Rah Tah Tah” (a song that is by contrast, very self-praising), for example, the video goes from black-and-white to full color. I think the best theory on the name of this project is that it’s a fusion of “chroma” (the prefix for color) and “cornucopia” (a bountiful treasure trove of something).
With that theory in mind, it makes total sense that the “St. Chroma” snippet video transitions from black-and-white to color when it reaches the drop, because I think it’s meant to represent the climax of Tyler’s career—the moment he truly “makes it out” and reaches the success that he deserves after facing extensive pushback from the industry against his music—a theme that the rest of the album will expand on. For now, we have this incredible opener where Tyler and Daniel Ceasar come together for a stunning vocal performance, and the marching feet that build up to an incredible drop pair it with beautiful production—there is no better way to begin this project.
Rating: 9/10
“Rah Tah Tah” sees Tyler at his peak—in contrast to the other “hype” songs on this LP, this track doesn’t blend much of any other emotion with pure arrogance. But even with this prideful mindset, we see some cracks and vulnerability in Tyler’s psyche.
The first few verses have Tyler role-playing the prototypical 2020s rapper with endless rambling about his car and luxury lifestyle:
Roll my windows up, darlin', roll them windows up
Biscuit-ass n****s wonder how I got my jiffy up
Crib so damn big, I need a diaper and a sippy cup (Wah)
Someone tell Zendaya she my favorite, can she hit me up?
Ha-ha-ha-ha, when I double-park the LaF'
That rah-tah-tah-tah, bitch, I'm steppin' on the gas (Mm)
The lyrics generally seem superficial at first, though the great, aggressive beat Tyler raps over heavily redeems that. The chorus is also quite catchy, and is a bit of a reveal as to the weakness this song is actually about (why is Tyler getting hung up on?) Because interestingly enough, Tyler gradually builds to this song’s conclusion about the drawbacks of fame. If we re-analyze the song through a different lens—this time paying more attention to Tyler’s admissions about his vulnerabilities and fears—we can actually see that some of these lines are secretly showing Tyler’s flaws:
Crib so damn big, I need a diaper and a sippy cup (Wah)
is a clever double entendre with “crib,” but also foreshadows later discussions about parenthood and Tyler’s slightly childish nature,
Hey T, why you actin' hard? I'm like, "Baby, please
I ain't tough, I just thumbs up, like I'm scrollin' feed"
reveals a conflicted identity, and
Them n****s used to press me on the carrot-colored bus
fully completes the theme of paranoia, which then transitions into:
Rating: 8/10
This was the only single released for the album, and I think it was a great choice as far as teasing what to expect from the rest of the project—bars over a blend of production genres with little in common but that still mesh together quite well. I can’t say I absolutely love this song musically. I think Tyler reached the point of getting a little too experimental, blending a sample from Zambia with some odd guitar riffs. But the messaging and lyricism definitely elevate this song.
For anyone curious, the Zambian sample translates to:
When you come at my house, please be respectful. Because I don’t like talking too much. Talking too much breeds gossip.
I think the idea behind this song (about the paranoia of fame, even with loyal fans) should be fairly obvious to anyone who hears it, so I won’t go that deeply into it. Something that I did note, though, is that Tyler isn’t making himself out to be a total victim here—he includes a lot of details that make him seem quite psychotic, almost like a character from an Edgar Allan Poe work:
I think my neighbors want me dead
I got a cannon underneath the bed
Triple checkin' if I locked the door
I know every creak that's in the floor
I warm up to this song significantly when it reaches its second half. The soft piano works a lot better than the rock/folk blend of the first part, and Tyler simultaneously gets substantially more reasonable with his commentary. I especially like the line
No cameras out, please, I wanna eat in peace (Paranoid)
Don't wanna take pictures with you n****s or bitches
As a direct callout to Hollywood paparazzi, known for specifically seeking out information about where celebrities will be having meals to track them down and take unsolicited photos of them. The album closes its first discussion of fanbases and the nature of fame here, and it’s quite satisfying.
Rating: 8/10
This is the next track that discusses the idea of fan service—and we see that idea through a verse about Tyler’s “masks.” Looking at this LP as a checkpoint in Tyler’s discography, we realize that it breaks countless traditions he’s established for over a decade. When previews and snippets first began dropping, everyone speculated that this project would center around an evil character called “St. Chroma,” but there is no mention of a character on this album and no sign that one even exists apart from the wacky wig and suit Tyler keeps wearing.
In addition, it’s also the first album to not include a “slash” song (like GONE, GONE / THANK YOU or 911 / Mr. Lonely.) This is just as huge as the absence of a defined character—each album from his debut Bastard contained a two-part song of this format (and I’m personally a little sad that this album doesn’t follow tradition, as the two-part songs are some of my favorites).
The first two verses of the song don’t seem to relate to Tyler’s masks in specific, instead developing the theme of a fake persona through the lens of the archetypal suburban gang kid and hypocritical preacher. The third verse, though, is where this song begins to tie into the rest of the album’s content: it discusses parenthood, which we will certainly expand on later. The fourth verse is most directly related to Tyler’s identity and an insight as to why he’s tried to form so many alternate personas throughout the years. His explanation is essentially that—despite the seemingly true-to-character persona he adopts in the public eye—he, like anyone else, faces insecurities that he attempts to keep locked away. He airs himself out on this track while simultaneously embracing his lack of a “mask” in this newest album.
Your beats ain't placin', them songs ain't slappin', your raps ain't rankin'
Your stage presence don't even be in they conversation, go home
You ain't gotta hide from the truth
Tell your family why you such a recluse
Tell your spirit why you feelin' it's a wrap in the booth
From a musical standpoint, I do enjoy the slower pace and more melodic production of this song. The chorus is maybe a little repetitive, but the variation in the verses is a decent diversion from having to focus on that—and like the last song, the final verse and accompanying beat shift are a tier above the rest of the track. The lyricism is just as strong as the previous songs we’ve discussed.
Rating: 8/10
This song is an absolute beast. Despite the album only being out for a week by the time the Apple Music Replay song counter registered for October, it was my most played song of the month. Though it is consistent with the theme of resisting industry pressures, it’s unique in the fact that it's a direct critique of Tyler’s haters rather than his fans or his own expectations. The result is an extremely wrathful expression of his anger towards those trying to “dim his light,” as discussed in the opening of the LP.
We begin with a military chant—continuing the motif from the chant in “St. Chroma.” This further reinforces the fact that this is going to be an expansion on the theme of Tyler’s rise through adversity to fame. This leads to a short opening verse from Tyler where he flaunts his awards and wealth—ScHoolboy Q then comes in to match this sentiment, with a smooth flow that is reminiscent of the verses in the gangsta rap-influenced half of his 2024 BLUE LIPS LP.
Get love in the hood, but I must leave (Yeah)
Born way in the hills where they can't see (Can't see)
Swear I burned twenty M's, 2018 (Yeah)
Like I play for the Bills, goin' OD (They thought I was dead)
This is a great section of the song, building on a beat that is quite difficult to describe and doesn’t sound much like traditional production for a hype song—but still works amazingly nonetheless. Tyler then raises the chant of “I don’t wanna be found, I don’t wanna be down” repeatedly until we get this beautifully hostile verse from him:
White boys mockin' this shit and y'all mad at me? Y'all can suck my dick
Pull up old tweets, pull up old t-shirts, all that, I'll moonwalk over that bitch
See, T changed like the 'fit got dirty
I was young man, then a n***a hit thirty
I was one mil', then a n***a hit thirty
Bitch, you ain't Coco Gauff, you can't serve me
The craziest thing is that he uses “white boys” as a double entendre here—both as an attack on the white fans defending rappers like Ian when Tyler called them out for poorly imitating the signature sound of artists like Future, as well as a mockery of the white pop fans who try using Tyler’s old tweets (and even his older musical releases) as representative of the person he is today.
The militaristic feel of this song—complete with explicit references to war (“Anti-what? Hm, yeah, right.”)—fosters an incredible mood through both production and vocals that is immensely exciting and cutthroat in tone. Add great verses with some of the best flows of the year (Tyler’s verse uses a similar flow to Kendrick’s “euphoria,” which I found really cool) and you get a song that I literally cannot stop playing.
Rating: 10/10
Gender and Romance
Tyler has some pretty interesting commentary on the nature of relationships, as well as the desire for sex, on this album. That starts with “Darling, I,” which probably wins the award for the most misinterpreted song on this record—so many couples are posting photos of themselves to this song without realizing it’s about cheating.
Somehow, the upbeat production choice works better on this track than it does on any other I’ve already mentioned—the pops in the background (from Snoop’s “Drop It Like It’s Hot,” no less) are incredibly catchy and interesting. Teezo also provides great background vocals that contrast Tyler’s low-pitched voice very effectively.
The lyricism here is pretty great, too—Tyler just basically makes a case for polygamy, portraying it as something that grants unparalleled romantic freedom as opposed to the restrictiveness of committing to a relationship. I can’t necessarily say I agree with his standpoint, but he certainly expresses it quite well.
Everybody's different, you know? And it's not just sex
I get different things from different people, and I want you to explore too (Uh)
Have those moments and experiences (Uh), I don't own you (Da-da-da-da-da)
It's not fair just to be stuck with me (Ah-hoo)
Rating: 8/10
This is a very strong entry. The production is similarly melodic to many of this album’s other tracks, but it feels a lot more ambiguous on this track—which is logical given the song’s lyrical content. This is the first great storytelling track on the album (which is something that we will see again, but not with as high of quality as this). We hear the story through a multi-perspective dialogue between Tyler and his romantic partner, who has gotten pregnant. They go through the dialogue of two possible parents debating whether they should keep their child:
Hey, T, how would you feel if we kept it a secret?
It's a voice inside me begging me to keep it
I'm thirty-five and my ovaries might not reset
I don't wanna live my whole life feelin' regret
Damn, a feeling you could never understand (I can't)
You just hope to God I get my period again
This is certainly the most emotionally charged song of the romance selections of this project—there are so many moving parts in the internal thoughts of both Tyler and his partner (the regret of an abortion, the past trauma of loss, and the stressful burden of debating whether to become parents).
What’s so saddening about this song is just how supportive they are of each other—seeing Tyler’s very interesting sexual commentary on the rest of the album, the fact that he gets serious in this situation truly shows its gravity. The fact that Tyler was, speculatively, the product of such a conversation makes it all the more impactful.
Rating: 9/10
This song is in a weird place where I can’t decide whether I love or hate it. I think the enunciations of Tyler’s voice are incredibly wacky, but there’s one out of every four or so times I listen to the track that it suddenly sounds catchy to me.
This song is pretty great lyrically, though. Aside from the very explicit references to sex, it’s a compelling storytelling track about not always judging individuals for their actions in a relationship. In the end, the woman Tyler is singing about passes away, possibly justifying the way she acts and her preference for all the weird sexual things Tyler describes in the penultimate verse. There’s a decent argument to be made that I’ve heard, which is that this ending is a cop-out that only excuses romantic preferences in the context of a terminal disease, rather than simply saying we shouldn’t judge anybody. But I think this is a decent middle ground to stand on.
The story is well-told—the odd musical style, unfortunately, holds this track back.
Rating: 7/10
It may be a stretch to call this a song about romance. On the one hand, it quite clearly plays into several euphemisms for sex (“better find a mop” is very WAP-esque, and the fact that Sexyy Red is on this track means sexual undertones are pretty unavoidable), but on the other hand, it sounds like a standard rap hit, complete with an ensemble cast—GloRilla, who I think is very underrated, Sexyy Red, who I think is quite overrated (but proves she deserves her popularity here) and the return of Lil Wayne.
You wouldn’t typically expect a collaboration like this to be lyrically rich, but this track actually develops a double entendre of both sex and physical fighting throughout its runtime (what does Glo mean by “poppin’ shit?”—guns or butts?), especially with the whole title of “Sticky” both being a way of describing a fight and…I’ll leave you to complete the other half.
I don’t know what it is with Tyler and dope second-half beat transitions/switches on this album, but he adds another to the lineup here. After the solid lunch table-banging-sounding production in the first half, trumpets come through for Tyler’s final verse, which is another extension of the arrogance we saw earlier:
Yeah, bitch, I'm outside with it (Mm, uh), tell them n****s I did it
Allergies to bum n****s, I see you, my eyes itchin'
This shit regular, regular, all that shit be regular
Ahead of ya, I'm better, baby, check the vehicle
Rating: 9/10
Families and Parenthood
This is where the album is at its peak. Several other songs (“Hey Jane,” and to a lesser extent “St. Chroma” and “Rah Tah Tah”) have already been teasing the project’s discussion of families and the dilemma of having children.
We start with Tomorrow, a folk-influenced recounting of the process of maturing with your parents. I think this song is absolutely beautiful—which is weird since I typically dislike slower, folk-style music. Tyler’s soft and quiet vocals in the chorus are very catchy and capture his emotions very effectively.
This song’s lyrics stand up to its production too—Tyler vividly describes the many revelations that old age gives you, like the conflicted feelings from seeing the children of a good friend, which he talks about in a very Kanye-like manner:
My brodie had another baby, that's like number two (Number two)
My homegirl, her knot tied, she like thirty-two (Thirty-two)
They sharin' pictures of these moments, shit is really cute
And all I got is photos of my 'Rari and some silly suits (Man)
Mhm, will I flip the switch and finally settle down?
Mhm, or go the other way and keep my panties down?
(with the second rhyming pair being incredibly reminiscent of
My friend showed me pictures of his kids
And all I could show him was pictures of my cribs
He said his daughter got a brand new report card, card
And all I got was a brand new sports car, oh
from Kanye’s “Welcome to Heartbreak” with Kid Cudi.)
This track mixes a creative and effective instrumental with a very impactful performance—you can’t go wrong with that.
Rating: 9/10
This could very well be recency bias, but it’s been over a week and I still pretty strongly believe in what I’m saying here. I absolutely love this track, and I think it’s one of my favorite songs of all time. This song does so much while saying so little—it expresses its emotion with one repeated line and an old-fashioned, dance-like instrumental that somehow manages to be both bright and somber at once.
This song is not nearly as dense as most of the tracks on this album, but it still manages to feel like a whirlwind of emotions. The first verse is incredible and perfectly leads into the chorus, introducing the idea of even an absent parent being ever-present in your appearance.
She said that I make expressions like him
My legs to my shoulders and my chin like him
My waist and my posture like him
Like him
Like him, like him, like him
And the chorus is just brilliant. “Mama, I’m chasin’ a ghost” is so simple, but the delivery is so emotionally charged that it makes this perfect metaphor even more impactful. I don’t think there’s a better way to describe the idea of a missing parent than “chasing a ghost,” so I love how Tyler uses it here.
I think the contrast between Lola Young’s high-pitched and Tyler’s low-pitched voice is an incredible creative choice here, working even better than Teezo doing the same thing on “Darling, I,” because, as many have pointed out, Lola Young basically sounds like a kid on this track—as if Tyler was reminiscing about his childhood where half of his family seemed to be totally missing.
The constant questioning of whether Tyler reminds people of his father—someone he has grown up to hate—is something you can actually feel inside you when you hear this track. It’s especially great in the third verse when all the instruments have risen to an incredible crescendo and you can hear each individual component come together as Tyler forces out this passage:
I decided to
Really get that love inside of you
I would never ever lie to you (Yeah)
You ain't never gotta lie to me
I'm everything that I strive to be
So do I look like him?
Tyler proclaims that he’s committed to honesty all his life, so the image of his father—who he believes has forever abandoned him—is something he doesn’t even want to resemble. That’s such a great testament to his mental state and beliefs about family.
And obviously, we have the “confession” from his mother to cap it all off. Most people I’ve seen just believe this to be true, but I honestly think it’s ambiguous—and it’s meant to be that way, too. Parents often shield their children from information that is likely to hurt them immensely, and I think the fact that we don’t know if this is true, or, based on what we know about Tyler’s mother and her care for him, just something that she’s telling him to make his childhood seem less painful.
I don’t think a single song has gotten me so emotional since “Sing About Me, I’m Dying of Thirst.” For that, I’m bestowing the highest honor on this song that I grant to the music I review—an “11/10” score, which, in the past, I’ve only given to three songs. I’m glad the one-word appearance of Baby Keem attracted so much online attention to this track, because it deserves it.
Rating: 11/10
I don’t have much to say about this song. I really don’t like it all that much—the production sounds like modified circus music, and it’s such tonal whiplash from the rest of the album, which is either slower-paced and melodic or utilizes traditional rap beats. Its content is also out of place for following the most emotional song on the project, and it really feels like Doechii is on this song just so she can be a feature—I can’t exactly say her verse slots into this too effectively (which sucks, because she is an immensely talented songwriter). This feels like everything “St. Chroma” already said, just watered-down and with a worse beat.
Rating: 6/10
Tyler finally makes up his mind on the closing track of the album. This is a very satisfying conclusion to the numerous debates on parenthood that have taken up the bulk of the project, with Tyler finally declaring:
Almost had a mini me, I wasn't ready
And she wanted it with me, I'm talkin' heavy
Then we had to guarantee, ain't no confetti
Four million on that car, that's not a Chevy
See, that's my interest, so as of now, raisin' a child is not on my wish list (Nope)
Neither is bein' safety net for bitches
I'm too selfish, contradiction (Ah)
Maybe I should before I'm too old and washed up like dishes (Washed)
From a story standpoint, this is a perfect way to end the album. Musically, it’s a little more wishy-washy, as the production is similar to “Noid” in that it tries to do so much in just a little over four minutes. I think it works slightly better here, with the high-pitched synths especially standing out in the track.
The concluding passage from his mom makes the narrative go full-circle as well. The album begins with his mother giving him advice (to never let anyone “dim his light”) which he carries out through the course of the project, and ends with his mother congratulating him (just like she did when IGOR won Best Rap Album). Ultimately, it’s a great way to wrap up the project.
Rating: 9/10
Miscellaneous Tracks
”I Killed You” is an interesting break from the rest of the album—it’s almost an interlude in its lyricism. It’s a song about society’s suppression of black hair and, broadly, the pressure for minorities to conform to white beauty standards. He details how the pressure of the majority is passed down through generations in families:
Aunties, grandmas, sisters, mamas, darker-skinneded women's conscience
Got you, bitch, they killed you
Uncles, daddies, brothers, sons cut by one, the shit begun early
Bitch, they killed you
The nursery-rhyme style of the song complements its lyrical theming very well—I think it can be interpreted as a satirization of white dominance in beauty and the absurdity of it all, or a play on the fact that children in minority communities are taught to follow the same norms that confined their parents years before. This track is very catchy, and despite its out-of-place theme, deserves its spot on the album.
RATING: 9/10
Summary
Musically, CHROMAKOPIA is an album with several identities. It alternates between arrogant bravado and emotional ballads while using folk, rock, and waltz-influenced instrumentals, just to name a few, in its production. That conflicting musical identity doesn’t hold it back though—it propels the mix of themes masterfully covered by this album forward by pairing each song with production that sets an appropriate mood, which I absolutely loved in IGOR and is repeated here.
Some of the sounds on the album—namely, the more slow and melodic beats—don’t hit as hard as they can, but strong second-half beat variations and great lyrical performances mostly make up for the difference. Despite one or two duds—Judge Judy and Balloon—that we don’t often see on Tyler albums, the overall tracklist will still stand the test of time. Even those meh songs would be highlights on many other artists’ albums and are creative enough to be compelling to the right audience.
This album shines most strongly through its lyricism, especially when it discusses parenthood. The internal debate of Tyler (and sometimes his romantic partner) is tied through the album from front to back until we finally see it resolved in the final song with Tyler deciding he isn’t ready—but through the project, we see him make compelling arguments for both sides. The climax of this discussion is certainly “Like Him,” when we see the trauma that even looking like his father, who he grew up with disdain for, causes for Tyler. This, paired with the album’s secondary themes of fame and romance, make for some of this year’s best lyrical highlights.
Song-by-Song Breakdown
Best:
Like Him
Thought I Was Dead
St. Chroma
Worst: Balloon
Best Lyricism: Hey Jane
Best Production: Like Him
Best Performance: Thought I Was Dead
Best Feature: ScHoolboy Q, Thought I Was Dead
Goofiest Ad-Lib: “I'm Pisces (I'm a fish),” Rah Tah Tah