In July of 2017, Tyler the Creator released his fifth studio album, Flower Boy, to enormous critical success. Once the artist famed for his provocative lyrics and over-the-top demeanor, Tyler had broken into the mainstream showing listeners a more vulnerable insight into his mind. While this album showed Tyler a new onslaught of fans, it also divided the fans he already had, split into two factions: those who liked his older, edgy, abrasive music, coined the “Wolf Trilogy,” who wish that “the old Tyler” would come back, and the other who joined after the release of Flower Boy, enjoying his new softer sound, pretending like his older music doesn’t exist. Personally, I fall in between these two groups. I started listening to Tyler after the release of his 2015 album, Cherry Bomb, an experimental album that massively deviates from both his previous albums and the ones to come after. As a result, I’ve always expected Tyler’s work to be challenging, both tonally and lyrically, so when I heard the content of Bastard or Goblin, it didn’t seem out of the realm of Tyler’s musical range. I remember decently enjoying those early albums on my first listen from an instrumental perspective. Completely self-produced, Bastard has some of the most interesting beats, all of which elevate the message of the songs. Though the content of those messages wasn’t something I enjoyed very much, I could see his creativity behind the tracks. It wasn’t until years later after listening to his new music that I was able to truly understand the complex emotions and introspection that Tyler had laid out in the Wolf Trilogy, and I think by taking a retrospective look at this series of albums, you can grow a better appreciation for the art, and have a better understanding of the meaning and intention behind it.
Tyler, The Creator begins Bastard on the title track inside the office of Dr. TC, the therapist that he was mandated to see after an unknown incident that happened the summer prior. Dr. TC tells Tyler that he was scheduled for three therapy sessions, which was initially assumed to be the storyline between this and his next two albums. After urging him to open up about himself and his feelings, Tyler begins the conversation with an insight into the way that he views himself. “This is what the devil plays before he goes to sleep. Some food for thought? This food for death, go ‘head and eat. My father’s dead, well, I don’t know, we’ll never meet. I cut my wrist and play piano ‘cause I’m so depressed. Somebody call the pastor, this bastard is so possessed. This meetings just begun, I’m Satan’s son.” It’s clear to the listener after this first verse the way Tyler views his music, as well as the struggles that he is going through at this time. Tyler sees his art as demonic, an outlet to channel all of the anger and the teenage angst he was feeling in whatever gruesome ways he saw fit. Tyler’s lack of a father sadly defines this early era of his music. Throughout this album and the subsequent albums in the trilogy, Tyler struggles with the feelings of abandonment caused by his father’s absence, making him feel alone and isolated from the normal world around him, which directly lead to the counterculture mentality he embodied in his work. These feelings can be seen later on in the album in songs like “Parade,” where he says “I scream and jump around on couches while you sit and talk. I skip to places, smiling faces, while you walk. You have highlights about yo life, I have life ‘bout my highlights. Go to college, get a job, marry, have a kid. Watch them grow and then you die, no f— the system.” Bastard also gives us the introduction to Tyler’s first alter-ego, Ace the Creator. Ace is first introduced on the track “Odd Toddlers,” personifying Tyler’s aggressive side, fueled by hatred of his father leaving, Ace resorts to violence, assault, and even cannibalism, taking all of the anger that Tyler feels onto himself and unleashing it onto others. Throughout the Wolf Trilogy, Tyler introduces many different characters, each taking on a different version of Tyler’s psyche, either embodying emotions that he currently feels, or ones that he wants to. On the surface, these characters can be seen to play for entertainment value, each personality has a different style of music that accompanies them, allowing for a much more dynamic feel for the album, but deep down, Tyler uses these made-up characters as a way to express his feelings of teenage angst, and to work through them in a much more productive manner. “Inglorious,” the final track of Bastard is the most heartfelt song on the album, as he describes his father’s absence, and how it affected him growing up. Between lying about where he was on “Bring your father to school day,” to his mother being the sole provider for the family, this track is chalked full of anger towards his father, but also genuine introspection about how far he had come despite him. The chorus of the track, a chant that Tyler says alongside fellow Odd Future member Hodgy Beats stands as a message to his father, declaring “(F— you) I’m good. (F— you) I graduated. (Without you) I’m good. (F— you) I’m good.” One of the biggest conflicts that is seen throughout Tyler’s work is his grappling between the desire to have a relationship with and the respect of his father, and wanting to be free of any and all ties to him. Tyler ends Bastard on the same grim note as he started. “Now this counselor is trying to tell me that I’m emo, she don’t give a f—. D-Low, where’s the trigger, I’ll let this bullet play hero.” Ending on a moment of self-hatred, Tyler fantasizes about the idea of ridding the world of himself, making the world a better place because of it … or at least getting rid of the parts that he hates about himself.
After its release, Bastard found both critical success and criticism from fans and critics alike. The same type of misfit social outcasts that Tyler described himself as found it to be a monument of counterculture art. The complete disregard for social norms made them finally feel recognized and unashamed for the way they felt. For others, the horrorcore shock value lyrics were enough to dismiss the project entirely. For all of the criticism against Tyler at the time, and still to this day, the most prevalent and reasonable was the abundant use of homophobic slurs, and while I do wholeheartedly agree that the use of slurs in a negative connotation should never be acceptable, I think retrospectively it is important to try to understand the reason why Tyler was so insistent to use that language at the time. On Flowerboy in 2017, Tyler speaks about his sexuality, telling the world that he was queer, and in interviews since then, he has opened up about coming to that realization very early in his life, keeping it a secret from the public until then. When looking back at the flagrant use of homophobic slurs, it feels less like genuine hate speech, and more like a closeted teen afraid of coming to terms with his own sexuality. I personally believe that this came from a place of insecurity and self-rejection rather than a place of hatred, especially considering all of the other times in these albums where Tyler talks in disdain of himself.
After the release of Bastard, Tyler had risen to a level of notoriety that he could have never expected, becoming someone that young people admired and looked up to, while also being vilified by the industry he was a part of, isolating him from his contemporaries. Also during this time, Tyler’s best friend, Earl Sweatshirt, had been sent away to boarding school by his family after the controversial release of his self-titled album, leaving Tyler feeling even more alone than he had before. These feelings of loneliness heavily impact the themes of his next project, Goblin. Goblin begins back in Dr. TC’s office for his second session, once again with Tyler teeing up his current mindset and what this album is going to focus on. “I’m not a role model. I’m a nineteen year old emotional coaster with pipe dreams … Philly to Paris, I’m getting these weird stares. At skateparks and airports all in a year, it’s weird … They claim what I say is wrong, like nobody has those really dark thoughts when alone. I’m just a teenager, who admits he’s suicide prone. My life is doing pretty good, so that date is postponed for now.” Tyler made it very clear on Bastard who his target audience was, angsty, depressed, misfit teens, a demographic that the album itself went much further than. In such a short period of time, Tyler went from an unknown kid making music for himself and his friends to a renowned sensation, one that most people criticized when Tyler showed his authentic self and one that was being forced to conform to a commercially safe persona that he simply wasn’t. This turn of events is what shaped the next song on the album, “Yonkers.” Originally released two months prior to the full album, “Yonkers” is a dark song where Tyler illustrates all of the brutal ways he would kill a list of other artists like B.o.B., Haley Williams, and Bruno Mars, accompanied by a music video of Tyler eating a live cockroach. On a deeper level, this song wasn’t just about how Tyler disliked the song “Airplanes” by B.o.B. but was rather rejecting everything he stood against: the polished, boring, derivativeness of the current music industry. This rejection was further emphasized by the “Yonkers” music video, which features Tyler engaging in disturbing and unconventional acts, visually reinforcing the song’s confrontation tone. This song also serves to introduce another one of Tyler’s characters, Wolf Haley. Wolf is described to be everything that Tyler wants to be: chill, confident, and unashamed of himself. Goblin is filled with the same horrorcore-esque lyrics and themes that were prevalent on Bastard, some more deplorable than before, but all serving the same anti-establishment theme that Tyler laid out on the title track, with the song “Radicals,” becoming a counterculture anthem at the time. Personally, I don’t think this album stacks up as much as the other albums in this trilogy. I don’t have the same appreciation for the self-produced feel as I do for Bastard, or the genuinely good lyricism on Wolf, even though I do love the songs “She” and “Analog.” This album shines on the final track, “Golden.” Nearing the end of his therapy session, Tyler returns to his feelings of isolation, opening up about Earl Sweatshirt’s departure to boarding school. “They’re saying “Free Earl” without even knowin’ him. See they’re missing a new album; I’m missing my only friend.” The mix of sadness and anger towards critics’ interpretation of his work ends up sending Tyler into a manic state, where he threatens Dr. TC, claiming that he never really cared about him and doesn’t want him to get better. TC then makes the revelation to Tyler that he, along with all of the characters that have accompanied him on the album, is just a figment of his imagination. Ultimately, the person who has been trying to help Tyler get better, the person who has always believed that deep down Tyler was a good person and was capable of growth, was himself. While some of these characters make appearances in his future projects, and new ones come around, This realization marks a big step in Tyler’s personal growth. He no longer needs to create a fictitious person to guide him along in life, he is able to regulate and critically examine his life, as himself.
The third and final album in the Wolf Trilogy, aptly named, “Wolf,” takes place the summer before Bastard and Goblin’s therapy sessions, following Wolf Haley’s stay at the fictitious mental health support camp “Camp Flog Gnaw.” Upon arriving at the camp, Wolf meets Sam, another teenager sent to the camp because of bullying in his past, and his girlfriend, Salem. Though Sam is originally hostile to Wolf, the three end up spending the majority of their time together, ultimately developing a love triangle between them. Wolf eventually sleeps with Salem, sending Sam into a rage where he murders the teenagers who bullied him in his past. As this album focuses its story around Wolf Haley instead of Tyler, we’re able to see the differences in how the two deal with emotional turmoil, specifically with his father. Wolf Haley has always been described as the person that Tyler wants to be like. Wolf is the “Lone Wolf,” free of the chains that the world has put on Tyler. Described by himself as the “cowboy on his own trip,” Wolf is in control of his destiny in a way that Tyler isn’t. It’s important to note that of all of the characters Tyler has portrayed in these three albums: himself, Dr. TC, Wolf Haley, Ace, Tron Cat, and Sam; Wolf Haley is the only character that has a last name, notably a different last name than the one Tyler shares with his father. The last name Haley, one that he gives himself on the track “Answer,” signifies a release of the hardship that his father put him through, and the understanding that he is his own man. The album Wolf centers around loss. Both the overall loss of his father and the recent passing of his grandmother, who he spent most of his life living with, leave Tyler looking at what he once had, and how specifically those two people have affected him. Because of the clinical setting of the album, Tyler tends to have a much more emotional approach to the topic of his father compared to his brash anger. “Answer” acts as Tyler directly talking to his father about his current position in life. “Hey, Dad, it’s me, uhm.. Oh, I’m Tyler, I think I’d be your son… Mom was only twenty when you ain’t have any f—s to spare, now I’m stuck with this facial hair. Also stuck with a beautiful home with a case of stairs. So you not being near fire-started my career. But I got Clancy, he gave me the chance to see. A world I wasn’t supposed to, I’m stoked that I didn’t know you.” A massive tonal shift from his previous albums, and even though he closes the song with “But if I ever had the chance to call him, I hope he answer,” he shows how he has grown from a point of resentment that he once had to gratefulness for the way his life has turned out without him. The final track of Wolf, “Lone,” speaks about his grandmother’s passing, and the feelings of grief that come with it. It is an extremely vulnerable track that ends with Tyler talking about his desire to leave his music career behind, but being unable to because of the people that rely on his support.
One of my favorite things about Tyler the Creator, and subsequently being a fan of his for such a long time, is the amount of growth you can see in him throughout his music career. I originally decided to write this piece back in October after the release of Chromakopia and hearing my favorite track on the album “Like Him,” a heartfelt track where Tyler concludes that he isn’t destined to be the same absent father he had, and it made me reminisce on the first time I listened to 17-year-old Tyler be truly vulnerable for the first time on “Inglorious” about his struggles growing up. It changed how I now listen to those older albums, knowing that that broken kid who is desperate to be loved and appreciated is going to heal. It’s like rewatching season one of The Office after watching the finale, and even though it’s sad that Jim and Pam aren’t together, you know that eventually it is going to work out. Part of the enjoyment of his new music is being able to see how far he has come over the past 16 years.
The objective of this article was not to say that only enjoying Tyler’s new work makes you dumb or any less of a fan, because I don’t think that’s true. I understand why you might not enjoy his old work. Listening to thirty-three-year-old Tyler the Creator come to the understanding that he isn’t destined to repeat the same mistakes as his absent father is much more satisfying to experience than seventeen-year-old Tyler graphically describing how he would assault other popular artists in the hip-hop scene as an allegory for his disdain towards the music industry and the box they were trying to put him in. Deeply personal, introspective music is much more rewarding to the listener when the artist is emotionally intelligent and vulnerable enough to express their emotions in a mature way, something that seventeen-year-old Tyler had trouble doing, but that doesn’t mean that the music wasn’t filled with the same contemplative, thoughtful touch that he has today.


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