Tyler, the Farter, or the Creator as some may say, has released yet another album. I thought this trend was over. Loiter Squad came and went like a minuteman on his first lay, with a whimper and not much of a bang. We all remember the craze of boring slabs of ironic gimmickry like
Goblin and
Bastard. Now Tyler is in a bid for "artistic respectability," I guess growing tired of living in the shadow of actual goliaths like Eminem, Drake, and Kanye. Good for him, for his self-actualization is important to him as an individual, but sadly, it is bad for our ears.
Enter
Call Me If You Get Lost. A cute title, suggesting the type of seriousness displayed on albums such as Mac Demarco's
Swimming and Eminem's
Music to be Murdered By. Sadly, in his strides towards becoming a goliath, Tyler has wound up somehow a bigger wimp than David. While David eventually becomes a goliath of his own in Veggietales, Tyler has no such redemption. The schoolyard bullies are still around, except this time they're in the form of music critics. While Tyler's gimmick certainly sells, so do Doritos, but those aren't good for you either.
On one hand I can respect the wide ranges of influences on this album, both lyrical and musical. Some of these tracks have a vibe to them that gets the foot tapping, the blood pumping, but this is rare. Tyler has clearly been listening to a lot of Billy Joel, but it is also evident he's been listening to himself fart. Goliaths such as Kendrick mastered this type of jazzy "conscious" hip-hop with more flare and wit, albeit with less bravado than displayed here by the toxically masculine Tyler. A mellow mood is aimed for yet not achieved, for the grating irony pokes through even in moments of vulnerability, much like an unwanted fart during a job interview. Try as you might, you won't get the job, because you smell like a turd.
