“November” has a synth line that almost slithers from start to finish, etching an outline for Tyler to release his manic thoughts all at once.
It’s a waste of a Rocky feature, as I’m sure they had at least 10 tracks together that would have been a better fit.
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The only bad patch of the album is a track that Tyler actually thought would be a good lead single “Who Dat Boy” is another song about Tyler not shopping at the mall, with wonky percussion that was probably played with his fists.
Flower Boy is the first time he really indulges in his natural talents and quits trying to recreate N.E.R.D’s In Search Of… intro.
Wolf and Cherry Bomb also had these spurts of brilliance, but were diluted by Tyler’s willingness to piss on his own albums. It’s hard to listen without seeing him dance in specifically green high water pants and whatever shoe he’s been working on. Speaking of Rocky, the latter half of “Glitter” even has Tyler screwing his own voice down as if this were some sort of UGK record. That “Glitter” twists and turns so uncontrollably, and yet Tyler matches it beat for beat, is definitely a sign that he’s been working on his pen game. The song is also probably the first time we hear Tyler seriously flow behind the mic I can think of one Harlem Pretty Boy who’s probably responsible for this. Kali Uchis sounds like the vocalist Tyler has been searching for since “Treehome 95,” and really, she’s tailored for the flowery soundscapes of the album. “See You Again” has the bounce of Neptunes-era Pharrell, mixed with arrangements from Late Registration-era ‘Ye, and finally, the same keyboard setting Tyler has been using since his bedroom production days on Bastard. What follows is probably the song that Tyler has been gunning for his entire career. On “Sometimes…,” a gorgeous interlude placed on the album solely to set the “Route 66” mise-en-scène, a “Golf Radio” broadcaster angrily asks for a song request quite tellingly, “the song about me” comes from the voice of a boy.
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He’s also found a way to integrate acoustic elements without sounding like some sort of Mac Demarco tribute. Tyler raps about various skin-care treatments and smelling like Chanel. “Where This Flower Blooms” sees Frank ghost in and out with a classically unbothered hook before you even know it. Some of Tyler’s earlier projects were so scattered that it almost exaggerated runtime, where this album just seems to melt away, like the car rides and afternoons that surely inspired it. Instead of hiding behind absurdist humor or his Cool New Friends (see: “Smuckers”), Tyler fleshes out a lot of his musical influences into something he can call uniquely his own, while also growing the courage to say “serious things,” well, seriously.įlower Boy is also masterfully sequenced. No more Hopsin-esque album cuts that feel like deadpan parodies of (sigh) New Rap, or bullshit “I’m a rapper that doesn’t listen to rap music” music. Tyler wants us to take him seriously now. Over two years ago, Ernest Baker wrote a classic profile on Tyler for Rolling Stone magazine where he might have been the first to ask the question, but Tyler’s public demeanor is so hilariously blunt that it’s often hard to take him seriously. It’s no secret that most of the conversations surrounding Tyler, the Creator’s latest effort, Flower Boy (unofficially Scum Fuck Flower Boy, which is obviously way cooler), have been around his apparent “coming out.” As in, he likes guys.ĭespite Tyler’s long history of homophobia, he’s hinted (or even been quite explicit about) his orientation for a while now.