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 Ben Pratt

Tyler, The Creator – The Devil in a White Tee

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Goblin is everything you wouldn’t expect from some skater punk misguided youth brought up by his single mother in the suburban streets of California’s middle- to lower-class. It’s everything that Tyler feels, everything he thinks, but more importantly, everything he wants you to think as he personally escorts you through his autobiographical, spoken word, journal entries loaded with sinister remarks and an evident underlying theme of hate, violence and mental instability. Goblin is mature beyond its years, honest, intimate, dark, twisted, personal and very, very confronting. A 75-minute emotionally draining journey told in a very original third person narrative style. It’s everything that the narrow-minded-teenage-anarchist-punk-high-school version of me would hate because there isn’t a drum fill or guitar riff anywhere. But that’s why I used to sit at home every Saturday night jerking off to the underwear section in old Myer catalogues and now I’m hanging out with my homeboys at Tyler’s underground rap battles, seducing drunk white chicks in abandoned warehouse car-parks.

You don’t have to know what he looks like. You don’t have to like him. Heck man, you don’t even have to listen to his music. But just remember one thing, the kid’s name. So when the revolution does come (and it will), you can just sit back and pretend you knew what was happening the entire time.

“All you fucking lames don’t have to like me, the devil doesn’t wear Prada, I’m clearly in a fucking white tee” (Tyler, The Creator – Goblin, 2011)

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