Rough Diamond Series: Tyga, Kyoto

The first of our ‘Rough Diamond’ series, where I will be giving another chance to projects that flopped critically, and seeing if any of these supposedly ugly ducklings are actually just swans in disguise...

Earlier this year, Tyga surprised fans by dropping a singing album. He has always had a distinctive rap flow that has sustained his career for numerous years, so this was certainly a curveball to then produce an all-singing (not quite all-dancing) project. 

Now, a lot of contemporary music lovers, even those whose Facebook newsfeed is a merry-go-round of Rap-Up, Complex, Genius and HipHopDX stories, won’t have even known Kyoto was released. It went very much under the radar, with Tyga not really holding the same industry presence as he did when the Young Money flagship first set sail - even though there have been signs of a resurgence with the success of his recent single with Offset, ‘Taste’. 

But the backdrop to Kyoto adds significance to the release, because it was composed amid the rapper’s split from Kylie Jenner, and her quick turn-around and surprise pregnancy with Travis Scott. It has never really been the thing to make love-based or break-up albums in Hip Hop, which is what made Kanye’s 808s and Heartbreak such a game-changer. Emo-Rap is now, of course, a much more widely populated sub-genre, and Juice WRLD’s recent surge into the charts has revitalised it even more. His album, Goodbye and Good Riddance has all the nihilism and soul-searching of 808s, and has propelled him into being the poster boy of this new wave of rap. 

However, while most critics would scoff at the mere thought of Goodbye and Good Riddance being mentioned in the same sentence as Kyoto, I think the latter offers a lot that Juice WRLD does not. It is much easier to listen to, for one, which would be many a reviewer’s argument for why it holds less artistic value. But why does 21st Century art have to be uncomfortable? Nowadays plays and art exhibitions often seem to have one goal in mind, to take the recipient out of their comfort zone. 

Well, I don’t know about you, but I’m not too fond of feeling uncomfortable. While I appreciate painfully honest works of art that are clearly a therapeutic medium for the creator, I think these pieces are often less constructive for the viewer or listener. I listen to Goodbye and Good Riddance and feel almost guilty that I’m not suffering as badly as Juice WRLD, and if I’m in a good mood and I listen to it, it just puts a downer on the moment. 

Kyoto is also filled with a lot of pain, but it is a lot less bitter and more eclectic. Tyga conveys the suffering in a much subtler, softer, less angsty manner, and personally, I find the songs a lot catchier. I could listen to any of the tracks on there purely for their beats and melodies, without having to get too involved with the anguish. It is undoubtedly introspective, and also feels as though it has been created to help the artist more than the listener. But because the rhymes feel more uncertain, and the flow is less confident than what we are used to from Tyga, the project still invites the listener’s empathy. He covers such an array of emotions that it is very difficult not to find one that you can connect with, whereas Goodbye and Good Riddance feels more like one long, dark vibe. 

‘U Cry’ is undoubtedly the centrepiece, with the pained lyrics fusing magically with the delicate piano sample to create a level of exposure that places Tyga on new ground. He details the feelings of anxiety as his girl keeps partying without him, only to call him afterwards, a narrative not often portrayed in the rap world, which only adds to its poignancy. The alpa male is replaced by a vulnerable lover, and the album benefits from this. 

Is Kyoto a masterpiece? Not by any stretch of the imagination. But it certainly has something to offer that has been overlooked critically. Upon the album’s release, Tyga was ridiculed for changing tack and singing, rather than sticking to his usual, flashy script of brightly coloured cars, pool parties and groupies. Kyoto is understated and underrated, proving that sometimes, less is indeed more. 

Yours sincerely, but not too seriously,
Max.i’m