Review — Call Me If You Get Lost
The Tyler, the Creator from the 2010s never left — he just evolved
It’s only been two years since we got the Grammy-award winning, open-hearted opus Igor from Tyler, the Creator, his most polished and well-sequenced album since he crashed, head first, into the rap scene in the early 2010s.
It’s jarring to remember the “old” music videos from the teenaged, now defunct Odd Future, featuring skinned knees, vomit, drugs in a blender and other forms of shock humor. Today, Tyler is an established, well-respected figure in hip-hop and modern music as a whole with features on pop albums and the Griselda clique giving him his props. But, the narrative around Tyler has turned into the belief that his sound has changed, raising its quality and standards to a new height by diving into his R&B influences, refined lyrics, and shedding his mimicking of Pharrell Williams, is a false one. Tyler’s sound has matured with his new album Call Me if You Get Lost, but the bones of the OFWGKTA days still lay bare in his lyrics, production and storytelling in an album that feels more “Tyler” than anything since Goblin.
Which makes sense, considering all of the lyrics and subject matter in CMIYGL is based on recent experiences, according to the artist himself. The personal touch is never lost with Tyler doing what he does on every album: talking about his life in the moment. CMIYGL, whether it wants to be or not, feels like a spiritual successor to 2013’s Wolf with its boom bap production, summer vibe and the signature raw emotion of Tyler’s monologues. DJ Drama is along for the ride with his signature drops and commentary to boost the summer feel to a new level, albeit feeling more like an afterthought than integral to the album. But, gone are the references to school shooters, 9/11 lyrics removed from the final product and homophobic slurs being dropped for the sake of dropping them.
Rather than feeling scrambled and loosely categorized (Tyler referred to multiple tracks on Wolf, Cowboy, Pigs and Rusty as having the same beat) CMIYGL has clear goals to get across: Tyler pouring his heart out about his dirty macking, success, burdens and daily life. The heart pouring out sounds less raspy and angry compared to the Wolf-era, but just as impactful with smooth confidence, carefree leisure and clarity. The opener, “Sir Baudelaire,” captures the indie movie-soaked, opulent atmosphere with smooth horns and a twinkling guitar while Tyler reflects on his reckless past and successful present. Rather than the multiple references to dying family and estranged friends, Tyler praises his inner circle’s health, shiny vehicles, his huge self-run music festival Camp Flog Gnaw and stamped passport while shooting directly “haters” in online comments and Twitter threads.
Gloating is the strongest theme on CMIYGL, with boat purchases, Tyler’s love for Rolls-Royces that crosses into advertisement, name dropping of non-US cities like they’re unknown locales and self-motivation galore splashed throughout. It’s inspiring when Tyler talks about his mom crying about his success and just as annoying to hear Tyler groan about how much he has to pay in taxes because of how much money he has. Growth, in this case, means trading depression for gluttony and pride. While Tyler has always been the type to nerd out over his accessories, like bikes, artwork and self-made jewelry, the flaunting of name brands in just about every song carry a different tone. This Tyler has no time for reaching those who can’t help themselves grow — he’s just here to show you how much better he is at being himself through all of his latest purchases and worldview.
Which isn’t to say wealth and health is all he talks about on CMIYGL, with multiple retellings of his being banned from countries early in his career, his self-image as a Black man criticized for being himself and consistent snubs from industry professionals and critics alike. It’s honest and authentic — Tyler tells us he just wants kids who look like him to do what they want and tells anyone doubting him that he’s not going to stop anytime soon — and shows that there are still signs of a chip on his shoulder with his place in the industry at large and the public. “MASSA” goes directly into all of the above over a smooth, barebones instrumental. RUNITUP starts with a by-the-book rant from Tyler about his often talked about ostracization as a teenager and how it literally paid off, followed by his signature distorted horns and energy driven hook. RISE is self explanatory, as Tyler reaches the peak of arrogance and confidence. The overconfidence is inspiring, even when it’s obnoxious, due to the contrast of how melodramatic past Tyler albums have been. It’s directed at the racism, ostracization and strife Tyler feels he’s experienced in the industry through bans, panned albums and open disrespect. But, at times Tyler comes off as just another rich person bragging about their bank account.
Even so, the artist sits alongside the arrogant, rich persona through performances and demeanor. During his headlining of Lollapalooza, Tyler performed songs that would never have touched that time slot if it weren’t for the Grammy and the work that led to it like “Tron Cat” (before the threesome lyric) and the lyrical shitpost “Yonkers.” Tyler’s eyes threatened to roll back into his head as he screamed that one line about “Airplanes” from his breakout single, as he adopted the anger and motivation that brought the song to life way back when. In between, he talks about how much he’s improved, looks and production-wise, but respects the work he did to put himself on the stage as someone who produces and writes all of his music. He goes to Twitter to ask fans about their favorite lyrics. He shares demos of songs recorded years or months before album releases. The art isn’t solely for stacking cash or gloating — it’s definitely a vehicle for that as we see throughout CMIYGL — but a source of passion and meticulous attention to detail. The art isn’t stale, it’s just coated in gold and refined beyond his 2010s era. He’s still a lone wolf, just ready to get himself out of the self-hatred hole some of us are known to stay in.
Like the two previous albums, CMIYGL is another milestone for Tyler, The Creator. The production is just as good as Igor, opting for more beats fit for rapping than crooning in high-pitched vocals. Tyler’s rapping is more focused and subject-based rather than opting for big punchlines over wordplay. The less rap-based songs, “Sweet” and “I Thought You Wanted to Dance,” hit the sweet intersection of R&B and the signature, vintage bounce Tyler is known for in the space. The personal growth Tyler loves to talk about in his music is less cryptic and hidden behind voice filters and voice memos, with him taking center stage to speak candidly rather than slyly. CMIYGL shows that the formerly outcast early 20-something with a chip on his shoulder isn’t quite over criticism, but finding new ways to cope with it. Gone are the days of calling out Bruno Mars and B.O.B, screaming slurs for attention or tweeting sexual threats to Selena Gomez. Constant travel, confidence and creature comforts, blended with privileges gained through his own art, are the new therapy for Tyler, The Creator.
