Review: Tyler, the Creator's mid-concert break to show off his albums was unexpected. But that's Tyler.

Chicago Tribune

a day ago

Tyler, the Creator got comfortable Monday at the first of a two-night stand at a packed United Center. He sat down, unlaced his shoes and slipped them off. He sprawled on a chaise, had a snack and sympathetically complained about body aches that greet people in their mid-30s. He made a B-stage on the floor his own domain — a personal den complete with an old-school hi-fi.
The rapper-songwriter held court there for about 40 minutes, acting as if he'd been transported to his house. The sequence included instances of lethargy in which Tyler just walked around and mimed the words to his own music as it aired over the venue's PA system. Underlining the meta sensation? On multiple occasions, Tyler flipped through a crate of vinyl, pulled one of his own LPs out of the jacket, placed it on a turntable and dropped the needle.
What could have worked as a clever, original concept instead begged the question as to whether the production functioned as part of a concert or a self-promotional listening interlude in a reconstructed living room. There, the skills Tyler demonstrated on the main stage and a suspended catwalk to open and close the erratic 95-minute show faded, with the rapper content to ignore the microphone and admire fans singing along as the tracks played. His truncation of songs to nearly unrecognizable snippets added to the tossed-off vibe.
Not that Tyler otherwise hurt for sincerity or personality. Quite the opposite. He serenaded a fan with an impromptu R-rated version of 'Happy Birthday,' gushed over the fact that parents brought their kids to the concert and projected a wavering confidence in favor of bulletproof braggadocio. Though he apparently needs a primer on how to properly handle an LP (lesson No. 1: never grab the surface with your thumb), the California native's analog-themed sessions prompted him to open up about other albums visible in his collection.
Vital albums such as Stevie Wonder's 'Innervisions,' Erykah Badu's 'Baduizm,' N.E.R.D.'s 'In Search of…' and Outkast's 'Stankonia.' Tyler noted how they impacted him and formed parts of his DNA, then encouraged his followers to check them out — a welcome history lesson given much of today's content gets programmed by an algorithm. Sure, it might've been a hoot if he pretended to spin a sample of the Burt Bacharach record stashed in his collection for the youthful crowd, but perhaps that would be asking too much.
Then again, Tyler remains beloved for doing the unexpected. Since co-founding the controversial collective Odd Future in the late aughts, he has evolved from a vulgar teenager into a 34-year-old multi-hyphenate whose horizons stretch beyond the hip hop landscape with which he's associated. Forays into fashion, production and acting further located him at the center of a stylistic universe that attracts attention due to the way it surprises, mutates and challenges.
Though many musicians hype nearly everything they devise as an important statement, Tyler regularly follows through on that pledge. Not that he should be excused for past controversies involving misogynistic and homophobic statements. Chalk them up to youth? Maybe. Whatever the reason for the shift, Tyler emerged in the past decade as a capital 'S' Serious Artist.
His decision to write and produce a great majority of his material helps set him apart in the field. As does his ongoing streak of commercial and critical success. After his 2017 LP 'Flower Boy' netted a Grammy nomination, the subsequent 'Igor' (2019) and 'Call Me If You Get Lost' (2021) both earned the nod for Best Rap Album. Released last October, 'Chromakopia' charted as his third consecutive No. 1 effort.
Nearly a year removed from a canceled headlining appearance at last summer's Lollapalooza, and a month before his planned July 31st appearance there this season, Tyler exhibited a manic level of energy that will doubtlessly resonate among hordes of festival goers. Whether dressed as his newest alter-ego, Saint Chroma — alien-green soldier uniform with large shoulder pads, white gloves, face mask and Amasunzu-influenced hair style — or adorned in a T-shirt and baseball cap, the entertainer born Tyler Okonma put on a clinic of physical motion.
If a groove invited a dance, the odder the step the better, Tyler obliged. His waist pointed him in a direction and the rest of his body followed. Exaggerated slow-motion creeping. Staggered shuffling. Backwards slouching. Reverse moonwalking. Crouched hopping. His feet played games of speed chess, his knees contorted, his elbows threw angular jabs and swung open like the jagged blade of a pocket knife. He resembled an animated cartoon, his flexible limbs and swiveling head a blur of wiry circles and patterns attached at a central junction.
All effective visual manners to convey the feelings of paranoia, uncertainty and mistrust chronicled on dynamic works such as 'Noid' and 'Darling, I,' and complement probing narratives that transpired in a dark atmosphere illuminated by strobe lights, pyrotechnics and flames. Save for one tune, Tyler performed 'Chromakopia' in its entirety, going so far as to heed the advice of the daring 'Take Your Mask Off' by removing his face covering.
Smart cues and conflicted self-consciousness aside, Tyler shortchanged the multifaceted sonic architecture of his arrangements by playing to recorded backing tracks rather than with a live band. A competent rapper, passable singer and horror film-schooled screamer, he frequently sounded as if he was dropping his voice over static instrumental and backing-vocal passages divorced from the cohesive whole. Too bad. An array of textural jazz, R&B, synthpop and funk elements stayed buried in the mix.
Amid staging constructed to resemble metal shipping containers, low frequencies rattled and vibrated, couching his club-ready material in the equivalent of a booming warehouse. Exploring contradictions as he burrowed into questions of identity and truth, Tyler veered from aggressive to docile, sometimes within the same song. He embraced freedom and freakiness (the melodic 'Judge Judy'), embraced his natural heritage and damned societal expectations (the nuanced 'I Killed You') and celebrated his aptitude as he rained cash down on the audience (the aptly titled 'Sticky').
On the murderous fantasy 'New Magic Wand,' Tyler snapped and exploded into violent rages, his eyes wild and distorted voice in the red — the same color as the song's tone and temperature. Anger and disdain also coursed through a defiant 'Thought I Was Dead.' The rapper escalated the tension by exhibiting superb control, manipulating the pace and delivering the final verse a cappella.
For all the hyperactivity, anxiety and flirtations with villainy, Tyler shared calm moments streaked with raw vulnerability. Treading ground situated between balladic soul and piano-laden chamber pop, he crooned and cried. Echoing his shout-outs to fallen legends Roy Ayers, Angie Stone and Roberta Flack, he raised his voice to a near-falsetto pitch on the kaleidoscopic 'Like Him' and discovered something akin to relief on the wispy 'Balloon.'
'I just need this time to myself to figure me out,' Tyler spat early in the show. As he would probably admit, that process is very messy and complicated. Still a work in progress.Setlist from the United Center on June 30:
'St. Chroma'
'Rah Tah Tah'
'Noid'
'Darling, I'
'I Killed You'
'Judge Judy'
'Sticky'
'Take Your Mask Off'
'Tomorrow'
'Earfquake'
'A Boy Is a Gun*' and 'Thank You' medley
'I Think'
'Yonkers'
'Tamale'
'Rusty'
'IFHY'
'Lumberjack'
'Dogtooth'
'Sorry Not Sorry'
'Who Dat Boy'
'Wusyaname'
'Thought I Was Dead'
'Like Him'
'See You Again'
'New Magic Wand'
'Balloon'
'I Hope You Find Your Way Home'