Tyler, the creator: Goblin - review

Fundamentally adolescent outlook... Tyler, the creator

Last week was interesting for the controversy in hip-hop. Low attempt on Fox News to present the invitation of the common to the White House as a threat to the Republic because reflected rapper was once rude on the police seemed relevant in the light of the debate online simultaneously raged on Tyler, the creator, the player star worship 20 years the collective odd future Wolf Gang Kill Them All and the musician again more hotly discussed in 2011. Subsidiary Fox Boston, recognized at least, the phenomenon by pointing out a record-store turbulent signature where the police has been called to "suppress the shenanigans".

Shenanigans, if not, are the odd future operating mode. As they emerged in 2008, their releases in richly offensive line led gigabytes of debate (in short: "is - this OK for this?"), which reached a mass critique with the first official album of Tyler. Since its debut in 2009, Bastard, Goblin is presented as a session with his therapist, but this time - after a year or more wandering the internet mirrors hall - it is also address his alleged audience. Most of the title song, to quote another lyricist young chippy, is Whatever People Say I am, that's what I'm not: a pre-emptive strike to potential criticism. "They get, ' cos is not for them,"Tyler aligned."." In theory, it is a strategy of critic-proof: listeners who embrace him without reservations are only qualified to comment on. But the music cannot be closed, and there are many listeners outside the following odd young future core which is simultaneously fascinated and dismayed. As Eminem, NWA or the Sex Pistols before them, odd future invite one of the most compelling issues in pop: who are these people and they want?

It is a shame Goblin will be the introduction of the many odd future gifts superior as Bastard online or Earl intense Earl joltingly sweatshirt. Although dense, relentless, antisocial of the future odd music is hardly unprecedented, synth-heavy production is artfully eerie and strangely agile rhymes. But Goblin is too long and oppressive, giving the listener time to become exhausted, annoyed, disgusted, or worse, bored by Misanthropy of Tyler - which includes, but is not limited to, casual homophobia and rampant misogyny (uses Fader tallied 204 "bitch" over its 73 minutes magazine).

Goblin is undeniably, intentionally unpleasant, and any attempt to wave away the inconvenience is false. In contrast to, say, NWA, whose violent nihilism can be considered a hard outline, but necessary to their environment, Tyler escapes a sociopolitical alibi. Neither persuade as pure satire, that Tyler is the most agile, triple - bluff satirist of modern times. And while Bastard had some jokes absurd winningly ("I go to gatherings of Obama screaming out"mccain!""), Goblin is oppressive solemn and covered.

If Goblin had a smell, it would be fug Rassi, the bedroom of a teenager, whose resident, hormonal as Tyler admits on her cheek "Xbox cell full of wet socks. Tyler's Outlook is basically young: lonely, attention seeking, deficient, defensive, bellicose, confused, self-aggrandising and self-hating. On the window it rappe: "at school I was a zero, now, I am the every boy hero," but the zero remains with him and his more frank material supplies. It looks too porn, cries, nurses grudges, contemplates suicide. It is "boring and I am ugly, most niggas't wanna punch me". On the runway most endearing, him, he wrestles with conflicting responses to the romantic rejection: "I can slander his name and then em say I probably fucks / I could tell them the truth, that she liked not me much.". As anyone who spends too long time insisting on the fact that he is not giving a kiss, it clearly.

But Tyler requires the listener to understand everything showing precious little to someone else. When he lashes out, its targets are equally obvious. The anthem of the heavy potential rebels radicals shakes little system at its core with the news that he does not like: a school, religion (b) and (c) the people telling him what to do. At least it tries to break up instead of down. Worse still is the implicit assumption that his self-disgust permits him to vent his frustrations in the backward misogynistic fantasies of Transylvania, male or female Boppine. Far from being offensive, they are sadly predictable: not a future odd but the ghost of the past of hip-hop bullshit. Moral scruples apart, this stuff is all bad art.

So you can claws on the best bits of the Goblin, like her, the unique calling card Yonkers ("I am a walking fucking paradox / no, I am not") or the pleasantly succulent instrumental Au79 and feel in the presence of an exciting talent who moves quite quickly to leave behind its more mundane provocations quickly enoughbut mass, this is a self-defeating waste of talent. Tyler wants to be loved or hated, in or out, with you or against you. The truth, which will be probably annoy him without end, is that the Goblin treachery leave most ambivalent listeners.