The album begins with the percussive sound of marching footsteps following a short narrated refrain by Tyler’s mother, Bonita Smith. Her voice is a frequent occurrence on the album, often giving her son and us, as listeners, advice and affirmations as he navigates a life now characterized by paranoia, self-doubt, and imposter syndrome. Lyrically, the track sets the thematic tone for the rest of the album. Tyler makes reference to light both in this intro track and repeatedly throughout the album, a metaphor for the inspiration which burns inside everyone accompanied to the frenetic instrumentation and addictive vocal harmonies offered by singer-songwriter Daniel Caesar on the track St. Chroma.
With a smooth transition (one of the many recurring high points of the album), he immediately transitions into Rah Tah Tah, a booming track driven by rolling, snappy hi-hats slathered in an oversaturated reverb effect and a piercing, sharp synth driven by heavy 808s. The mix would be right at home in a car with the bass cranked to 11, which is fitting given Tyler’s long history of using cars as symbols within his lyrics. It is not hard to see why this track has become one of the more commercially successful tracks on the album, along with the lead single and next track in the album, Noid.
Noid released as the lead promotional single for the album on Oct. 21, was the only single throughout the album’s rollout, which was notably more muted in scale and grandeur compared to Tyler’s other album releases such as Call Me If You Get Lost; initially announced via billboards and posters across the world. While it is a departure from the image which he has cultivated over the last few years, it is not entirely out of left field, and fits the albums rawer production and monochrome imagery. Tyler saw his image within the public eye go from somebody who was regarded as an edgy, strange, and downright offensive internet rapper who flirted with mainstream relevance to one of the most recognizable and lauded artists of his generation in just under a decade.
This was cemented by his second Grammy win for Best Rap Album for his seventh studio album Call Me If You Get Lost in 2022, having previously won his first in 2020 for his sixth work, Igor. That rocketship of fame would be enough to make anybody a little bit queasy, and Tyler expressed to listeners on Noid that he’s no different. Gone are the days when he could do something as innocuous as enjoy a meal outside, or shop for groceries himself. Nowadays, as a worldwide superstar, the fear of just a singular fan asking for a picture, then rapidly turning into a small mob clamoring for his attention, autographs, or interviews, has become all pervasive. “Privacy? Huh, yeah, right. I got a better shot in the NBA,” he rapped on the track.
Throughout Chromakopia, Tyler finds himself relying far less on the ear-wormy production style which produced Grammy winning albums and chart-topping singles. Instead, the more reserved and raw production style is characterized by slightly conservative use of his trademark synths, which still sounds right at home on tracks like Take Your Mask Off and I Hope You Find Your Way Home. What really allows this album to excel at driving home its thematic messages and stories, which range everywhere from his aforementioned paranoia, to his experiences without a father on Like Him, and his non-judgemental attitudes towards a sexual relationship with a woman (who is later revealed to have died of cancer) on Judge Judy.
The album only has one real hiccup, which comes at around the midway point with the track Sticky. The song succeeds at certain aspects, and woefully fails at others. Aside from obviously having a more commercial sound as if it were tailor made for a Tik-tok edit of some celebrity, the production feels flat in comparison to the other tracks. A strong verse from Memphis rapper GloRilla is not enough to save the track, which is saying something when the worst verse on the entire album is coming from a hip-hop legend like Lil Wayne. For some reason, his verse completely breaks the streak of excellent production on the album, sounding as if it were recorded over FaceTime or the inside of a restaurant bathroom. Both features lack room to breathe on the song, and the track may have been better served without them at all.
Aside from the swing and miss, Chromakopia is instantly one of the best albums to be released in the first half of the decade, and is a sonic representation of the dominance which Tyler now holds over the rest of the industry as he remains one of the few artists to seemingly always be pushing the boundaries of his musical identity.
Tim Rogers is a freshman global studies major with a minor in Jeff Buckley studies, and a music columnist for The Retriever.
Are you a local musician or artist looking to make some noise? Contact Tim at GQ04614@umbc.edu