Tyler, The Creator: Goblin

If you're reading this, it means you have somehow survived, or even averted, the collapse of civilisation precipitated by the release of Goblin (if it's the latter, well done, and if it's the former, can we have some tinned sardines?). For this album is officially the greatest threat to our way of life since the last high-profile rap album.

Tyler, The Creator is the linchpin of rap collective Odd Future Wolf Gang Kill Them All, currently wowing hip hop with their combo of personal charisma, outré subject matter and, most importantly, creepingly funky productions with a Wu-like minimalism which allows the weirdness of its components to shine. Tyler's commercial debut is, unsurprisingly, ultra-profane, but his considered flow seems almost bored with gore. Tyler's not trying to produce a profound commentary on his generation, he just happens to be clever enough to explore new realms of perversion, whether he's preparing to snort Hitler's ashes, photograph his dad's penis or, as on 'Tron Cat', 'rape a pregnant bitch and tell my friends I had a threesome.'

Tyler obviously has an uneasy relationship with himself – never mind the talk here of suicidal thoughts, Tyler repeatedly rips into bloggers, critics, hipsters and even 'London crackers.' There's an Eminem-esque auto-frontlash on the title track, where Tyler demolishes his public image as a skateboarding ADD horrorcore brat. But the most shocking thing about the album is the length of some of the tracks, stretching up to eight minutes. In a genre where ringtones are considered an artform, that's way more rebellious than Tyler’s trademark ‘kill people, burn shit, fuck school’ chant.

Time Out Tokyo rating:

Goblin is out now on XL Recordings