“KILL PEOPLE, BURN SHIT, FUCK SCHOOL!” goes the chorus of “Radicals,” one of the many highlights on Tyler, The Creator’s brilliant, and likely polarizing, “Goblin.” Never mind that the song kicks off with a “random disclaimer” telling listeners what follows is fiction, so let's not anybody try this at home, some people are going to be turned off by Tyler’s ultra-dark and ultra-violent lyrics. Never mind as well that in that “random disclaimer,” Tyler pointedly tells “white American, “ in particular Bill O’Reilly (whose jihad against rap over the years has been little more than coded racism), not to scapegoat him or his art if some idiot actually does kill people, burn shit and fuck school as a result of “Radicals,” because if Bill O’ gets wind of “Goblin,” you can believe it will only add fuel to the fire of the culture wars. As I write this, I am sure that there are countless others preparing reviews with critical justifications for Tyler’s lyrics seated in the grim realities of certain socio-economic sectors of our population, and they would be right, but I’ll let someone else write that apologia. What is often missed, or simply ignored, in debates over controversial art is not so much its reflection of grim realities, but its value as catharsis, and catharsis is what I feel when I scream the chorus of “Radicals” along with Tyler and various other members of the much hyped Odd Future collective, of which he has become the de facto head.
Sometimes I think we forget that rock and roll is built on such catharsis. It is rebellion, a middle finger in the eye of the man, and the more transgressive the better. Take, for example, the Sex Pistols. In 1977 England was celebrating the Silver Jubilee of Queen Elizabeth II. To mark the occasion the Pistols released “God Save The Queen” a not so rosy indictment of Parliament, England’s future, and, of course, the Queen. Despite the single being banned from airplay, it ended up at #1 on the top of the charts during Jubilee Week. While certainly it is full of social and political commentary, the real appeal of the song was, and is, singing the blasphemous lyrics snarled by Johnny Rotten, particularly “God save the Queen, she ain’t no human being” and the nihilistic refrain of “no future, no future for you.” The song gave voice to a rebellion festering in the heart of staid British society, and for all of its insight, it was the catharsis of apostasy that made “God Save The Queen” the classic that it is, as well as the most popular song in the land the very week England was supposed to be celebrating the monarchy. High ideals and political protest aside, sometimes what one really needs is to channel all of the anger, depression and futility of the world through the venomous lyrics of a song, which was exactly the appeal of Johnny Rotten and the Pistols.
Even when politics are entirely absent, and emotions are more generalized, there is something to be said for giving the Id its due. Surely we can all agree that sometimes it just feels damn good to let rip a big middle finger toward the sky while shouting out profanities, whether it be via something as vacuous as Soundgarden’s “Big Dumb Sex,” or N.W.A.’s all too real “Fuck Tha Police.” The Id feeds on sex and violence, and it needs to roam free once in a while. History, after all, is littered with the tragic byproducts of individual and collective repression.
Enter Tyler, the Creator. If there was ever a modern album more Id satiating, more cathartic, than “Goblin,” I certainly don’t know it. I’m sure someone would say the same for the rankest death metal, or the stupidest Insane Clown Posse song (a group that Tyler is sometimes unfairly compared to), the difference is that for all of its psychopathic violence, there is a self-awareness, an honesty and a vulnerability that beats at the heart of “Goblin," elevating it from the gutter and putting it on par with Kanye West, who also seamlessly mixes confessionals with fantasy. The end result is something more poignant than simple shock schlock, and something much more cathartic because it channels real human emotions, not just the cartoonish.
“Goblin” begins with Tyler continuing the conversation he began with an imaginary therapist on his debut album “Bastard.” The song’s heart-on-the-sleeve stream of consciousness allows him to set up the emotional parameters of the record, which are sometimes amusing, sometimes depressing, sometimes terrifying and sometimes humane. In other words, exactly what you should expect from an increasingly self-aware fatherless 19-year-old who is trying to find his way in the world, which is exactly who Tyler Okanma, a/k/a Tyler, The Creator, actually is. Tyler’s confessional is told over the sparest of instrumentation consisting of little more than a muted drum roll, sporadic lush strings, downtuned guitar notes and an occasional minor key piano motif. It’s minimalistic and dark, recalling the production of early Anticon and Def Jux more than it does Tyler’s hero Pharrell Williams. The net result is a track that maintains its sinister edge throughout, even as Tyler rolls out lyrics that are far more human and introspective than hip hop is typically known for.
“Yonkers” follows sounding like a cross between an old school Wu-Tang Clan track and Bernard Herrmann’s “Psycho” score. The imaginary conversation continues and gets more heated as Tyler rages about Jesus, Bruno Mars and hipster bloggers, in between dropping grin-inducing absurdities about popping "pink xannies" and dancing around his house in his “all over print panties.” It’s telling that this is the single for “Goblin.” It’s catchy as hell, but also entirely anti-pop. Its skeletal beat couldn’t be any less radio-friendly, and it's highly unlikely that "Yonkers" will find its way onto Clear Channel playlists around the country, which is partly why it is exactly the shot in the arm that hip hop needs. Musically and lyrically Tyler is more forward-thinking than his peers. He is too raw for Anticon, too weird and progressive for Roc-A-Fella, and too thoughtful for horrorcore. Instead, he capitalizes on elements from each and creates something wholly unique.
Creativity aside, “Goblin” is also a great listen that is as enjoyable as it is challenging. Yes, the album’s love song “She” ends up being about a murderous stalker, but you’d be hard pressed to stop yourself from bobbing your head to the ultra-silky vibe of the number. The same could be said for what is lyrically the heaviest song on the album, “Nightmare.” Tyler deftly blurs the line between fantasy and reality, dividing his lyrics between his rawest emotional lines like “my father called me to tell me he loved me, I have a better chance of getting Taylor Swift to fuck me,” and some of his most violent; “the knives get thrown, and hit her in her fucking neck, now her throat’s all gone, looking like a fucking monster from the Twilight Zone.” All the while a hooky beat plays underneath a mellow jazz piano progression, giving it a chilled-out feel in direct opposition to the piece's lyrical content. These sort of juxtapositions between music and lyrics add to the perversity of “Goblin,” while also making it a record that you can access even when you aren’t in the mood for this kind of heaviness.
Not every song is an example of dichotomy. “Tron Cat” is as dark musically as it is lyrically, but it bounces like the best hip hop. The song sounds like an early EL-P track, but contains much rawer lyrics than ever appeared on a Def Jux album, such as this gem: "rape a pregnant bitch and tell my friends I had a threesome." I'm sure that line is going to get plenty of attention sooner or later, but anyone who takes something like this seriously should probably never leave the house. It's a fucking joke. Yes, it's pitch black humor, but it's humor nonetheless, and placed next to the more serious lines on "Goblin," it's absurd grin-inducing levity, and actually a welcome break from the more gut-wrenching lyrics arising out of Tyler's real life.
At times the album does descend into what will easily be dismissed as misogyny, but it would be a mistake to take any of it too seriously. Just as Tyler, who neither does drugs or drinks in real life, raps about smoking weed and drinking, it's easy to view the traditional gangsta posturings that appear sporadically throughout the record as yet another joke born of the kind of hip hop stereotypes that Tyler is all too aware of, as well as the Ids of the young kids who make up Odd Future, and comprise "Goblin's" supporting cast. It's also telling that Tyler ends up killing off Odd Future members Jasper Dolphin and Taco at the end of "Bitch Suck Dick" after they turn in what are easily the most misogynistic lyrics on the record. Admittedly though, Tyler's lyrics succeed best when he combines both real emotion and fantasy, crafting such chilling lines as "let's buy guns and kill those kids with dads and moms, with nice homes, 401ks and nice ass lawns" on the phenomenal Wu-Tang influenced "Sandwitches." Anyone that writes lyrics like that (of which there are plenty on the album) off is frankly an asshole, completely ignoring the righteous rage that burns at the heart of "Goblin."
In many ways "Goblin" is the musical equivalent of the film "Gummo," which examined life in a small Ohio town devastated by tornadoes that killed all of the young resident's fathers. It may be ugly, it may be disturbing, but it's nevertheless art and a brilliant meditation from the mind of a fatherless young man making his way in the world, trying to find humor amongst its horrors. It's also as entertaining as it is thought-provoking, a rare feat for confessional hip hop. In fact, its blasphemies and atrocity exhibitions are downright fun at times, particularly for listeners in a society that increasingly resembles a fatherless child itself. Granted, haters are going to hate, and cultural warriors are going to flat line, but for my money Tyler, The Creator is exactly what the world needs right now. He is our punk rock. He is our catharsis. God save the Queen.
"Yonkers" (edit)
"Sandwitches" live on Fallon
"Radicals"
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