Tyler, the Creator
Cherry Bomb
(Odd Future)
B-
Gone are the days of the bastard. Tyler, the Creator’s latest album, Cherry Bomb, confirms a notion that Wolf flirted with two years prior: No longer is Tyler the urban pariah that ensnared many of us with his minimalistic melodies and unyielding lyrics, the latter toting a modern gospel that was both deeply personal and culturally impactful. That’s not to say Cherry Bomb is a step in the wrong direction, but the artist’s metamorphosis is a bit hard to accept.
Within seconds, “Deathcamp” ushers in a more heavily-produced Tyler. Like Death Grips without quite the artistic anchor, Cherry Bomb’s first movement is more frantic than anything Tyler has put forth. An electronic intensity — only previously realized through his unique vocals — hammers you into attentiveness with a static synth, while a deep, thundering bassline is periodically interrupted by a soft, almost spiritual hymn, setting the album’s precedent.
Unlike Bastard or Goblin, Cherry Bomb demands a bout of schizophrenic motion. Unfortunately, it lacks the cohesion of Tyler’s aforementioned albums. Only a few themes — primarily flight and escape – pervade the work, resulting in an island of misfit tracks created by someone who used to value narrative as much as he valued sound. Though several pieces rise above the list, no two selections complement one another particularly well.
That being said, what moments do shine warrant several repeats. “Find your Wings” illustrates the difficulty that can accompany success, while the song’s softer tones provide a moment to breathe, like popping above the clouds after thick turbulence.
Cherry Bomb’s title appropriately epitomizes the album. Heavy distortion reiterates the quick pacing of earlier tracks, while brief moments of clarity illuminate a desperate struggle between over-production and simplicity. “Blow My Load” pursues a humorous thread and emphasizes his satirical leanings in proper Tyler fashion. Allusions to FaceTime in the same breath as fellatio, along with a faux-commercialized outro, keep the artist’s eye for pop culture sharp. “2Seater,” meanwhile, presents enough of a well-thought concept to carry an entire album, and it’s a wonder why the track feels as independent as it does.
Not so much of a bookend as it is an open ending, “Okaga, CA” concludes a somewhat confused album on a positive note. A lament for the days before Loiter Squad and Hollywood partnerships come forth, and it becomes increasingly difficult to see the current artist at such a distance from his former self. Yet the track appropriately conveys what made Tyler so compelling to start: his uncanny ability to actualize his past, dissect his present and forge his future.
Not even a very active listener could identify Tyler’s vocal absence throughout Cherry Bomb, a phenomenon that raises a reality we’re more than a little reluctant to wrestle with: Tyler is still very much a creator, but he does so in a different dimension. Perhaps it’s time to let go of the underground musician that commanded our attention six years ago and welcome a still very young producer with a hell of a head on his shoulders. Even so, that’s hard to do.
