I ignored the beckoning leak, telling myself listening to the real thing come May 10 would be what a true fan would do. But I don’t know if that’s exactly true; it just means I would feel guilty about not giving the money to my most anticipated album in months. Anyone who has wandered near Blogland has caught a whiff of the Odd Future Wolf Gang hype. In a short span of time the group has clawed into the music stratosphere with explosive live shows and genuinely shocking content and attitude. Tyler the Creator, the head of the rap/skate/art collective, released his album Goblin today. It is the greatest landmark of Odd Future’s ascension, the day when the world turns its head to watch a tortured 20-year-old exorcise his demons.
The album is dense and expansive, harrowed and manic, horrifying and insecure, relentless and most importantly uncompromising. No one will claim Tyler sold out his image and music. It is an honest journey through a mangled psyche. At 73 minutes, it is a lot to take in, and I can’t claim I’ve figured it all out. I haven’t figured out whether I like it or not. My opinion on this work is liquid, and will take many listens to crystallize. I will say that there is no music out like this right now. I’m going to discuss three of my favorite tracks from the first listen.
1. Tron Cat: If one was to argue that Tyler’s music was purely shock and horror for the sake of it, this song would be Exhibit A. Out of context it seems so. The song fits into the progression of the album: it is the expression of the schizophrenic devil on his shoulder. The song before, “Nightmare”, finds Tyler explaining a new persona, a terror in his mind that drives him to do horrific things. This song is that persona’s explication: he rips through the lurching beat insatiably, tearing apart rape imagery with clouds of sinister synths overhead. This is the terror that haunts every track with a haunt of insanity; on this song he blows it up and splatters it on the wall.
2. Her: Immediately after the ear blistering Tron Cat comes this unexpected turn. Tyler shows a wounded but yearning heart. He plays the role of a high school kid desperate for a girl, constantly thinking about her and fawning over her, wishing she would ditch the losers she dates for him. The little details here are what make his turn as pathetic desperate and endearing loverboy whining. He talks about going to the bathroom just so he can walk by the class she is in, and about taking her to a show at the Roxy. In a way this demonstrates his pain and paranoia just as much as Tron Cat; it shows his vulnerability instead of his fury. He sees this girl as the only pathway he will ever have to a normal life, a life that was denied him by an absent father.
3. Golden: The closing track. The last verse contains the most evocative and moving imagery of the whole album. Tyler experiences a full mental breakdown in this song. He lashes out at the world he has placed himself in: his therapist, his crew, blogs, music criticism, his fans, his own tortured sense of self. It is in this track that the schizophrenic tumble of his personalities swirl into a seething ball of rage, indignation, loneliness, and desperation. All of these emotions coalesce into one frighteningly intoned line: “I’m not even human”. If Goblin is a psychological case study of a man going insane, and I think it is, then this is the haunting conclusion, essential to understanding Tyler’s body of work.
There is, of course, so much more to cover. The album has many facets to it, and one day I would like to get to them all. For now I am content to have experienced an important piece of music. This album will come to define the path of Tyler’s career. Will this earn him the Grammy he so covets? Absolutely not. But it has earned my respect for its refusal to compromise on its psychopathic vision.