The world isn’t dancing anymore. At least, it’s not dancing enough. It’s now too self-conscious, too withdrawn, and too concerned about mocking looks. This is the observation made by American rapper Tyler, the Creator, proposing, to counter this sad trend, his own antidote to these social ills: a surprise album that’s light, short, and, above all, invites his fans to let loose on the dance floor (a record “made for body movement,” in his words).
DON’T TAP THE GLASS, the ninth opus of the talented Creator, was released on July 21st, barely nine months after the excellent Chromakopia, and in the middle of a tour to defend the (green!) colors of the latter. While Tyler, the Creator had accustomed his audience, from Bastard to Call Me If You Get Lost, to a wait of exactly two years between each of his chapters, DON’T TAP THE GLASS, released with little notice and therefore quickly by his standards, seems like an abrupt and less polished step than the rest of the albums in his discography.
And that’s exactly what its author was hoping for! Chromakopia is, to date, Tyler, the Creator’s most personal album (even more so than Flower Boy, yes, yes). After forgiving his father whom he hated so much, revealing all the flaws of fame and trying to finally drop the mask blurring the lines between himself and his alter egos, Tyler Okonma clearly needed to breathe, to bring a touch of lightness and spontaneity into a life that was becoming increasingly anxiety-inducing.
From the first seconds of Big Poe, the tone is set: the beat is lively, Tyler is overexcited and delivers his most sarcastic and funny lines heard in years. It’s been since Cherry Bomb, in 2015, that the rapper has allowed himself this much freedom in the production of an album, although the plot of DON’T TAP THE GLASS is still less chaotic than that of the example given. A constant irony and letting go hovers over the project, even extending to the visual of the cover, depicting a shirtless Tyler, oddly bling-bling, reminiscent of somewhat macho rappers’ covers of the early 2000s like that of Get Rich or Die Tryin’. “Macho” is probably the last adjective that would come to mind to describe one of the very, very few rappers openly part of the LGBTQ community.
No more St. Chroma, Tyler Baudelaire, or Igor of this world: no character, no theme links the 10 songs together, like a mixtape, except for this constant desire to shake your hips while listening to them. Tyler, the Creator is having fun without taking huge risks, and no one will blame him for that. DON’T TAP THE GLASS is good Tyler, without being great Tyler. And the intention of making great Tyler was probably not there either.
Vocoders blend with sweet beats, somewhere between the French touch and the N.E.R.D. touch that Tyler admires so much. Let’s highlight Sugar On My Tongue, Sucka Free and I’ll Take Care of You, which, according to the author of these lines, best achieve the primary objective of this album: to have fun, in good French.
Yet it’s in concept albums that Tyler, the Creator excels, in albums where he manages to exploit an idea and visuals to their maximum that each of the periods of his life ends up being cut to perfection, resonating with each of ours. DON’T TAP THE GLASS doesn’t fall into this category, it’s the typical and perfect summer rap album, an album that feels good while the sun still shines in a world that is collapsing and dying. But it won’t be, in hindsight, one of the highlights of the already rich career he has been shaping for more than 15 years already.
A musical treat to be consumed with pleasure and energy for the second half of the season, but its biggest fans will undoubtedly already be impatiently awaiting the next concept, the next character and the next color palette that will reign in its future story.
