‘Excuse my voice; I can’t sing but I don’t care because it feels good.” So said Tyler, the Creator before he launched into an impassioned – if tuneless – rendition of See You Again on his 2017 NPR Tiny Desk concert. That song was taken from his then-newly released fourth album, Flower Boy, a bright, optimistic departure from his usual dark, introspective rap. It marked a newfound confidence in the 28-year-old’s music; no longer relying on the shock tactics of earlier records like Goblin, he was refreshingly comfortable in his own skin and endearingly enthusiastic about his own work.
On the follow-up, Igor, there is a lot more singing and even more joy. Performing concerts in support of the album while dressed in a Warhol wig, shades and dazzling neon suits, Tyler cavorted all over the stage celebrating an even greater breadth to his music. His singing has improved somewhat, while his lyrics are expository and personal: in the closing lines of twinkling R&B track Earfquake, he pleads with a partner, “Don’t leave, it’s my fault”, before moving on to the self-discovery of a settled breakup on Running Out of Time with the lines: “You never lived in your truth / But I finally found peace, so peace.”
This internal peace is crucial to the functioning of Igor’s genre mix. While songs rarely top the three-minute mark, jumping around from the thudding, percussive opener Igor’s Theme to the hook-laden I Think and A Boy Is a Gun’s soulful balladry, Tyler’s self-assuredness holds the 12 tracks together, his delivery measured and unhurried, whether left unadorned or passed through a pitch filter. Tracks either abruptly snap off like an unfinished thought or dissolve into silence. While Tyler has always been chameleonic, on Igor his restlessness feels like a conscious choice for the first time, not merely the jittering impatience of a young star looking to explore new sounds.
This confidence, and fluidity, allows him to resist being pinned down to any one identity. There was speculation over his sexuality following lyrical references on Flower Boy, which he resurrects on Igor with the line “you’re my favourite garçon” on A Boy Is a Gun, but never clarifies; his Igor tour stage costume similarly resists a simple reading. Track titles like I Don’t Love You Anymore; Gone, Gone / Thank You; and Are We Still Friends? suggest this is a breakup album, but in the end the object of his lyrical references doesn’t matter. It is not important to know whether Tyler is gay or straight, happy or heartbroken – his appeal as a songwriter and performer is his ever-evolving exuberance.
Ultimately, Tyler sings because he wants to, regardless of how he is heard, and that self-confidence is a joy to behold on this fifth album. The angsty leader of the Odd Future collective no more, Tyler has stepped into his own identity – even if you can’t always make out what is going on behind the blond wig.
