‘Tyron’ chronicles the mindset of Slowthai’s controversial court jester archetype.

Credit: Method Records

Verdict: a desperate need to give the anti-hero a backstory.

Tyron wants you to take it seriously. Whereas his debut was a blunt, raging and urgent in its need to speak out, his follow up is a clean up. It sports defined first and second halves, a plethora of big name features, and a defined, flag-bearing showcase of the UK Hip Hop sound as it stands in 2020.

It also puts an image-shift for Slowthai at the centre of its parade. Forever seen in press shots and promo photos with a cheeky, troublemaking grin, here that image feels dissected and broken down. The second album in his discography is very, very keen to give you the anti-hero backstory.

After a practical land invasion of the British music scene in 2019, and a dogged year of turbulence in 2020, you sense that kicking of the new year with a new album to straighten the record is a calculated but also necessary move. It also, however, risks anything you release in this period looking corporatised and deceptive.

Deception, however, is clearly not the aim here. Slowthai isn’t exactly on his knees pleading you for forgiveness, but he is putting his stamp on his way to clear up matters, as well as using it as a righteous chance to vent. The politics that fed the undercurrents of his debut are replaced here with far more introspective rants and a solid helping of honesty.

“To see it as a two-part album, however, misses the point. There’s a deliberateness in giving both sides differing sounds and themes…”

That, for me at least, explains why this thing is so polished and complete. It’s clear that plenty of thought has gone into it, beyond just wanting it to be a genuine and rewarding piece of artistic expression. The two-sided nature of the record is especially notable; a punchy first half with tons of bangers, and a second half that puts its emotions front and centre in an all the more moody manner.

To see it as a two-part album, however, misses the point. There’s a deliberateness in giving both sides differing sounds and themes, but in reality both work in tandem to tell the full story. The first side, coming out swinging with that “dickhead bomboclat” line on ’45 SMOKE’, perhaps purposefully plays into the rough and ready court jester image many have of Slowthai. The second, meanwhile, counterweighs it with a peak behind the curtain, with stories of breakups, struggling with his image, and plenty of the isolation the world has felt for the last year.

“…you also end up wishing that he could perhaps be more vulnerable and let us see behind the mask a little more.”

For the fans, it’s hard to see how you could ask for more. When we get to have both the stunning five track streak of ‘MAZZA’, ‘VEX’, ‘WOT’, ‘DEAD’ and ‘PLAY WITH FIRE’, whilst also getting tender, depressing and fiercely real cuts like ‘NHS’ and ‘Feel Away’, you really are getting the full package as far as what constitutes Slowthai’s appeal right now.

More interesting, however, are the bits where he lets his guard down. The aggressive, unfiltered verse that closes out ‘ADHD’ – and indeed the whole album – comes across as raw and genuine, and is a fantastic addition to the song. The Tyler The Creator-sounding ‘i tried’ feels like a perfectly tongue-in-cheek wallow in self pity that adds a lot to the album’s sound.

It’s in these moments that you can feel like what Slowthai might offer us down the line could truly blow everything out of the water, almost as if he’s only waiting for the chance to really let loose. But you also end up wishing that he could perhaps be more vulnerable and let us see behind the mask a little more. Tyron ends up constricted by its own purpose, or rather the purpose it believes it needs to have, to be the make-up-and-mend for Slow’s image.

“Whether you want to listen to what he has to say is up to you, but there’s no denying that he’s very deliberately opening himself up.”

Make no mistake, Slowthai’s appeal as the anti-hero of Britain’s music scene has not dimmed. He still feels like the same guy willing to bring a decapitated Boris Johnson head on stage, just that on this outing, it’s ruled by an overpowering need to clean up the act.

Perhaps then, coming off of a year of media attention and narrative-creating about who we’re supposed to see Slowthai as, Tyron is an introspective retaliation that wields its honesty as its primary weapon. Whether you want to listen to what he has to say is up to you, but there’s no denying that he’s very deliberately opening himself up.

Vulnerability is a difficult thing to achieve when your whole schtick is being the controversial court jester, but there’s a sense now that our anti-hero comes out of his second album with far more depth. He’s pulled off the image clean-up, that’s for sure, but it’s what comes after Tyron that is seemingly more exciting than what’s on it.

Score: 7.0/10