Consider the longevity heard in the latter releases from Tyler, the Creator, and pair it with Bastard. His debut album is somewhat forgotten amid the spree of Igor to Call Me If You Get Lost, and understandably so. There is a revision made by Tyler over the last decade and a half which his latter works are benefitting from. A cultural wave of influence and inspiration from this pocket of cult work or niche material. Bastard does not have this, instead feeling like a standardised hip-hop album trying to barge its way into the status quo with a hardcore flourish. But this is the edge Tyler has, according to some, lost. It has been replaced by the cultural enhancements he now finds himself applauded for and with that comes an expectation. There is a sense of bending and blurring the reality for Tyler, and it works to his advantage when reflecting on and listening to his earliest works.
The overwhelming need for the shock meets silly line is roughly drawn on Bastard. It has an early sharpness to it, this kindred but jagged spirit with some of Tyler’s best lines featured within. Title track Bastard has the Devil as a juxtaposition to the horrors of these early years, the Satanic beast at the start of this song seemingly the brighter part of it all when compared to the not-so-delicate heartbreaks and often disgraceful scenarios painted throughout. Uncomfortable listening, but the intent is to shake the foundations of what is acceptable and Tyler does this successfully throughout Bastard. There is a raw and visceral appeal to Bastard which is now missing from his recent, pop-coloured albums. Though instrumentally lacking in many spots throughout, the intent and lyrical overhaul of Bastard is enough.
Tyler sounds aggravated, aggrieved and annoyed at everything. Volatile wordplay which feels bitter and leaves a sour taste on the listener more than it does its topics of choice, a wide array of those he perceives as wronging him. Recognisable samples on Odd Toddlers remain irrelevant to the larger story at play through Bastards but prove to be one of many necessary breaks from the harsher highlights. French is one of those many darker moments where the cultural references end up being harsh crimes or uncomfortable experiences, often with women but it sounds as though the discriminating factor is reaction rather than setting. It makes Bastard uncomfortable and the only way around it is to suggest Tyler sees himself as the titular character, but it does not appear to be the case.
Ultimately a project worth listening to just to chart how far Tyler has come from his hardcore-themed roots. From its lo-fi appeal to the questionable consistencies found throughout, Bastard is more interesting to unpack and examine than to listen to, and thus it fails its purpose. And yet in the deplorable notions heard throughout is a human characteristic, a blow-sniffing, blog-rap artist letting the pressure get to him. Suggestions turn to blatant statements on the likes of Blow and it makes much of Bastard a tough listen. But therein lies the point. The goal is reached, the point made but ultimately it feels stiff and stifled, especially now. It has not aged well nor poorly for that matter; it verges on embarrassing at times but daring in other spots. A tricky beast to understand but it feels relatively out there and different to the Tyler who now headlines Coachella.
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