Tyler, The Creator
Toyota Center
March 19, 2025
I think there are a finite number of times in their life that any given person can listen to any given song. It varies by person and song, but I personally could go the rest of my life without ever hearing “Hotel California” — or “Sweet Child O’ Mine” — or “Smells Like Teen Spirit” ever again.
It’s an entertainment rut, and falling into a rut is — creatively speaking — tantamount to pulling the lid closed on your own coffin. Exposing yourself to music that runs counter to your usual sensibilities can yield unpleasant results, but I’d argue it’s better than musical tastes that haven’t evolved since the first Clinton administration.
Which brings us to Tyler, the Creator. Born Tyler Okonma in 1991 (the same year Nevermind was released), he first came to attention in the the ’00s as one of the founding members of Odd Future. Critical solo acclaim followed with the releases of Bastard and Goblin, albums notable for their violent subject material (Tyler himself rejects the “horrorcore” label) that probably drove as many people off as they drew in.
Later albums like Flower Boy and IGOR found Tyler branching out into R&B and soul while also leaning into introspection and self-deprecation (though some would argue the latter had always been present). IGOR won the Grammy for Best Rap Album, as did follow-up Call Me If You Get Lost, which proves something…or nothing, depending on when you ask Tyler himself about it.
Tyler took the main stage — a shipping container construct bathed in fluorescent green — to the sinister martial rhythms of “St. Chroma,” Chromakopia’s opener. Like so many of that album’s songs, however, it abruptly shifts styles — from ’80s-ish synths to gospel — before swinging back into the confrontational and paranoid “Rah Tah Tah” (where he asserts he’s “the biggest out the city, as in Los Angeles, after Kenny,” as in Kendrick) and “Noid,” where he turned the lights on the crowd for the first of many times during the night. Not subtle, but effective.
As for Tyler himself, he began the show in the unmistakable mask and Grace Jones-esque puffs from the Chromakopia cover, along with a vaguely military uniform, marking time like a demented drum major.
He was a riveting presence, alternately lurching and sliding across the (really not very large) stage in front of a crowd practically screaming every lyric back at him. The first eight songs were from his latest album, after which a catwalk descended to bridge the Chromakopia stage to what I guess I’ll call the “oldies stage.”
One of the new songs Tyler sang on the catwalk was “Sticky,” which is definitely one of my favorite cuts, possibly because it’s one of the few on that album where he seems to get out of his head to have some fun. He also made some new friends by throwing cash into the crowd during this portion, though whether it was actual legal tender I couldn’t tell you.
The secondary stage at the north end of the arena had Tyler paying a loungier homage to Mister Rogers, shedding the “gay dictator” (his words) togs for more casual wear, before introducing an abbreviated medley of tunes by pulling various of his albums out to set expectations (Goblin for “Yonkers,” “Tron Cat”,” and “She,” for example). He also let the crowd take the lead on vocals several times (“EARFQUAKE” and “Tamale” among them), which was more a function of his skills at playing crowd than being out of breath or anything.
Tyler was also expectedly garrulous with the adoring crowd. He complimented Houston several times, for our “Southern hospitality” and for being the best crowd of the tour so far (which goes until September of next year, so cool your jets), while also letting us in on his personal life, specifically: “I have a humiliation kink; you think booing me works?”
He crossed the catwalk again to close out the show, starting with a literally show stopping version of “Thought I Was Dead,” followed by “Like Him,” a genre 180 that solidifies the man’s talent. From a rapt crowd hanging on his every word to a light show that rivals anything I’ve seen in a planetarium, the Chormakopia: World Tour delivered on every conceivable level. Tyler, The Creator has already cemented his place in the hip hop firmament, but last night showed just what an exceptional performer he is, and set the bar for the rest of 2025/
How Were The Openers? I only caught the end of Paris Texas’ set, but it was loud (and pretty dorky, if I’m being honest). Lil Yachty was up next, asking “HOUSTON!” if we minded him “rocking out for the next 45 minutes.” Like we had a choice. He dressed like a guy playing Fortnite in your basement, if said guy was also decked out in diamond jewelry. He also exhorted the general admission crowd on the floor to, “Open the motherfuckin’ mosh pit.” With middling results.* The crowd responded well to songs like “I Spy,” “Broccoli” and “Drive Me Crazy,” as well as the rapper telling us Houston had some of the most beautiful women he’d ever seen. But as the saying goes, “A lil yachty goes a long way.”
At least now I think I know who the inspiration for that Timothée Chalamet/Pete Davidson “Rap Roundtable” sketch was.
Personal Bias: No. 3 Daughter asked me to cover this so she could tag along. Being a sucker doting father, I naturally said sure.
The Crowd: Gonna be a lot of hoarse high schoolers staying home from school tomorrow..
Overheard In The Crowd: Nothing really, but I wanted to share the warning from the tour email I received: “THIS SHOW HAS HAZE, STROBE/FLASHING LIGHTS, FLAME TOWERS, WATERFALL SPARKLES, CONCUSSION BLASTS & BASS DROPS.”
*Random Notebook Dump: “1) That’s not a mosh pit. 2) They couldn’t even keep bouncing for one song.”
SET LIST
St. Chroma
Rah Tah Tah
Noid
Darling, I
I Killed You
Judge Judy
Sticky
Take Your Mask Off
IGOR’S THEME
EARFQUAKE
A BOY IS A GUN*
THANK YOU
I THINK
Yonkers
Tron Cat
She
Tamale
Rusty
IFHY
LUMBERJACK
I THOUGHT YOU WANTED TO DANCE
DOGTOOTH
SORRY NOT SORRY
Who Dat Boy
WUSYANAME
Thought I Was Dead
Like Him
THAT GUY
See You Again
NEW MAGIC WAND
Balloon
I Hope You Find Your Way Home
