TYLER FACES THE MIRROR WITH ‘CHROMAKOPIA’ (REVIEW)

Tyler, the Creator’s Chromakopia digs deeper into self-discovery, peeling back layers to reveal a version of himself in his 30s — aware, reflective, but still unapologetically Tyler. 

This seventh studio album hits like a manifesto, grounded in 14 tracks that confront fame, fear, and those late-night solo conversations nobody else hears.

CHROMAKOPIA drops like a heavy anchor, navigating the artist’s inner crisis. Here, Tyler morphs from the brash provocateur we’ve known into a man facing the harsh realities of time. For those who’ve followed Tyler from Bastard to IGOR and beyond, CHROMAKOPIA is like opening a personal diary he didn’t even mean to share.

This project isn’t just Tyler talking. His mom narrates throughout, adding a grounded intimacy, as if guiding him through an emotional minefield. “St Chroma” sets the stage—a marching cadence layered with introspective verses that show Tyler in friction with the mirror. By the time we hit the short but loud “Rah Tah Tah,” Tyler’s back to his old bragging self, claiming his place alongside “Kenny” (read: Kendrick Lamar), but there’s a sense of lingering weariness beneath the bravado.

“NOID” thrusts us into Tyler’s unease with fame—paranoia wrapped in dense visuals featuring Ayo Edebiri, where phones are drawn like guns. It’s a callback to that “Massa” line about sleeping with a gun, a sign that fame hasn’t gotten easier. Fame, Tyler tells us, is sometimes a loaded weapon.

Then, Tyler toys with the notion of fatherhood. In “Hey Jane,” he flips perspectives, stepping into a tender, feminist role with a character named Jane. Here, Tyler dips back into IGOR’s sultry R&B vibe, taking a slower, smoky approach. “Sticky” ramps things back up with Lil Wayne, Sexy Red, and Glorilla, delivering swagger with a purpose, while “Judge Judy” (with Childish Gambino) stumbles as a slow point on an otherwise intensely personal journey.

With Schoolboy Q on “Thought I Was Dead,” Tyler returns to his military motif—a reminder that outside of introspection, the real world waits, boots on the ground. The album sums up with Tyler discussing his father’s legacy, the fears and hopes for his future, and a final moment of peace in “Balloon.” The closing track, “I Hope You Find Your Way Home,” leaves us with Tyler’s mother’s voice, bringing the story full circle.

CHROMAKOPIA is all Tyler: raw, unpolluted, and messily beautiful. For a fanbase that’s seen him evolve from cultural instigator to mature entrepreneur, this is Tyler exposed, layers peeled back, sharing his fears and musings without always needing to make sense.

 It’s complex, introspective, and leaves you picking apart his puzzle, one track at a time.

Listen HERE