195 words about Call Me if You Get Lost
And on the seventh LP, Tyler rested — i.e., existed with us. His foundation was primordial rap. On Wolf, horizons were defined, evolutionary wheels set in motion. Later, the genetic material of hip-hop unraveled into constituents. On Flower Boy and Igor, Tyler entered his Love Below-era before ever having his Aquemini. Call Me if You Get Lost runs it back. Tyler, The Creator created to create. On CMIYGL, he creates to give, specifically to the heads that live on hip-hop. The laws of science bind it up. The environment breathes and grows but is metered and knocks. We walk in it, we feel it. “RUNITUP” is a “We Major” sunrise. “Wilshire” is 8½ minutes of melancholy stasis and storytelling, paying off a setup in “Corso.” “Manifesto” is its title, and it towers on a Nas homage. Tyler turns all his compositional swag in on itself, finds that creation always starts with a loop. The opener samples WestsideGunn, adds oboe, sounds like the richest minute ever. Tyler’s new world is an old testament, recreated, reborn, blessed. Weezy soars through its skies. NBA Youngboy finds purpose. Frank Ocean speaks. It feels good to believe in a Creator.