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For as long as Tyler has made music, he has sought to defy expectations. Beginning his career as a sort of rap novelist, building worlds with multiple chapters, subplots, names and figures, he was an edgy breath of fresh air post-crunk. What he lacked in polish, he accounted for with serious lyrical abandon. Often straddling the line between vulnerability and vitriol, it made his earliest works somewhat difficult to digest, even if you saw potential. There were glimpses of greatness, and occasionally his two wolves (no pun intended) would coalesce for a moment to create lightning in a bottle. ‘Wolf’ was a more refined version of his ‘Bastard’ and ‘Goblin’ self, trading in a lot of his shock bars for a tighter thematic focus. It was from here that Tyler would launch off into true notoriety.
‘Cherry Bomb’ is perhaps the greatest example of Tyler’s desire for unpredictability. The mixes were questionable at the best of times, he was incorporating pure neo-soul, seemingly as a means to create a contrast from the more raucous moments. The problem was, Tyler didn’t quite have the confidence in his production abilities to make these disparate qualities work. The result was a totally mixed bag of soothing elevator jazz melodies, and concussive industrial hip hop. Your enjoyment boiling down to which of these respective styles you preferred on the day. Though this was certainly an interesting direction for Tyler, it wouldn’t be fully realised until his 2017 release ‘Flower Boy’. Something finally clicked, and now we find ourselves in what some might call Mr Creator’s “second career”.
His run since ‘Flower Boy’ has been tremendous viewing. Finally, we were seeing an artist execute all of their numerous ideas and influences into a body of work that satisfied its promises. ‘IGOR’ was a mid-fi masterpiece, ‘Call Me If You Get Lost’ did braggadocio right, and ‘Chromakopia’ was his successful attempt at replicating the kind of vulnerability that we heard on Kendrick’s ‘Mr Morale’. That was last year, mind you. Not even 10 months later, and Tyler is dropping another crop of tracks on our heads. This time, it’s the strictly carefree ‘Don’t Tap The Glass’. I say “strictly” because Tyler really wants listeners to let go. He’s drawn a line in the sand. He’s fed up with ranking culture, bloodsport discourse, the gamification of music, and people’s general inability to think and feel for themselves without an algorithm. Regardless of whether or not you agree with his assertions, you can’t deny that it makes for a pretty effective rollout. The idea behind ‘Don’t Tap The Glass’ is to log off, put your phone down, find a spot somewhere for yourself with enough room, and just mosh out. The question is, does ‘Don’t Tap The Glass’ deliver on its promise of good dance fun?
In many respects, yes. This album dishes out its fair share of pep, right from its opener ‘Big Poe’. The grumbling bass and crunchy drums might feel like a staple in his beat-making toolkit at this point, but he does it so masterfully that it’s hard not to respect it. Not the atomic bomb that this tracklist needed off the bat, it’s still a high-energy insight into some of what is to be expected. The following ‘Sugar On My Tongue’ rips the rug out with a Human League style synth-pop groove, and blossoms into a quintessentially Tyler-flavoured jam. His singing is back on display, which may bother some skeptics, but nevertheless it matches the quirk.
The rest of the album maneuvers between glossy, synth-backed R&B, twerk anthems, and hardcore hip hop. There’s a throwback quality, it comes across as mildly nostalgic, but not consciously. Tyler has always looked ahead, and his attempts at these sounds are only from a perspective of pushing them forward; refreshing them. ‘Sucka Free’ has 90’s G-funk written all over it, but Tyler’s boyish refrains hint at a level of irony only modernity could explain. There’s a distinctly Prince flavour to the flirty falsetto vocals and squirmy synthesisers on ‘Ring Ring Ring’, but Tyler makes sure to update that sound with enough of his own bells and whistles that it could only belong in his day and age. This specific mode continues for just about the rest of the album, as Tyler relaxes into a somewhat cozy final leg.
‘I’ll Take Care of You’ incorporates the same drum break as the title track from his ‘Cherry Bomb’ album. It feels so much more looked after on this cut too, as it is a juxtaposing canvas for a gorgeous bed of various synths and string harmonies. For as much of a hodgepodge as this track might seem to be, particularly with its generous ‘Knuck If You Buck’ samples, it is a kind of “eureka” moment in his discography. He’s an artist who is finally comfortable in his own abilities. He can go back and amend his initial attempts at a rougher sound, while actually making it feel intentional without sacrificing the quality of the music.
For what this album and its songs might lack in breadth, it makes up for that with its clubby disposition and respect for the retro. Tyler knows his strengths, and he is mostly playing to them here. ‘Don’t Tap The Glass’ is exactly the kind of project to tide fans over until his next venture. It’s the sort of trim pop-heavy excursion that is always a pleasant surprise. It harkens back to his ‘Estate Sale’ deluxe EP following ‘Call Me If You Get Lost’, except it now presents in an album format. Yet even in this record’s quest for no deeper meaning, it ends up representing a lot about where he is at this stage of his career.
Dan Will Review 