Tyler, the Creator has gone through a massive evolution over the course of his relatively short time in the public eye. Artists that have been in the game for far longer than him have tried on fewer hats than Tyler. Part of this is marked by costume changes–throughout the years, album releases have started to coincide with fashion changes. With his past two (arguably three) releases, Tyler has adopted entirely new personas.
His latest record, Call Me If You Get Lost, details the life and times of Tyler Baudelaire, an eccentric and taste-making world traveller. Tyler’s titular character from his previous album, Igor, was more focused on the intricacies and pains of lost love–Baudelaire has his fair share of musings on this topic, but he also discusses his material wealth, and the growth and success that he’s worked for. The beats are well-composed colllages of samples, chords, lead lines, and ad-libs. The music on Call Me successfully illustrates the world that Tyler Baudelaire has constructed for himself. It’s jazzy, sophisticated, and full of references to his world travels, but it also speaks to the vulnerability and pride that comes with being a renowned artist.
The album subtly takes the listener on a journey through the narrative of Tyler’s feelings about a complex relationship. After “SIR BAUDELAIRE” introduces us to his new persona, “CORSO” jumps right into Tyler’s emotions on a girl. Albeit vaguely, he outlines his position succinctly, “Look, tried to take somebody bitch ’cause I’m a bad person/I don’t regret shit because that (woo) worth it/In the end, she picked him”. He then goes on to explain that it’s really alright, he can just purchase himself out of the pain that he’s experiencing. “WASYANAME” tells an idealized tale of meeting this girl, with Tyler asking her about herself and explaining to her in an almost breathless way how he’d seduce her. “SWEET/I THOUGHT YOU WANTED TO DANCE” is a reflective ballad that describes the mixed messages received from his object of affection.
Most of these aforementioned songs give us glimpses of the full narrative behind this complicated affair. The penultimate track on Call Me, “WILSHIRE”, brings to light the complete details of the alluded to relationship, outlining it from start to end. It’s a rare moment in Tyler, the Creator’s discography, which he even points out, saying “I just try to keep anyone I care about in the shadows / Safe from the commentary and spotlight and thoughts / ‘Cause it’s just a story for the people outside of it / But I guess you’re just another chapter in the book”. The song is one of the most vulnerable of his career, calling attention to the complications of personal relationships and the frustrating intricacies of being a public figure.
As much as this album discusses this particular romantic situation, it also takes a really close look at Tyler’s relationship with his fans. Inherently, being a public figure comes with challenges. People have expectations of you, your art, and everything else. Some want to be with you, others want to be you. It’s often easy to forget that our favorite artists are, in fact, human beings, and Tyler seems to be finding himself dealing with critics and fans that are inconsiderate of his personhood. On the other hand, fans are the very reason for his success–in some ways, he’s indebted to them for all that he has. “MASSA” recounts his humble beginnings and career, commenting on his early artistic output, pointing out how unfair it is that projects like Goblin are still held over his head. “MANIFESTO” tackles similar themes, addressing calls from the public to take stances on political hot topics.
“RISE!”, with it’s Stereolab-esque chords, juxtaposes the confidence of success and the fear of losing it all–the verses have a self-assured bravado, describing the hard work that success has required, but the pre-chorus reveals a nervous compulsion to beg people to “please don’t go, please just stay”. This plea for perhaps fans and lovers alike to stay by his side successfully ties together the two major themes on the album. Bragging is often a form of protection from emotional vulnerability–a concept that Tyler has played with on his previous two albums. In “911/ Mr. Lonely” off of Flower Boy, he muses “I say the loudest in the room / is prolly the loneliest in the room (that’s me)”, a direct call out of his own tendencies.
Although he may be struggling with similar subject matter, Tyler the Creator’s artistic growth is indisputable. Album after album, he’s created a different aesthetic world to fall into–no small feat. It seems like he’ll only continue to climb for the foreseeable future.
