The duality of man, the complexity of Slowthai’s “TYRON”

“Rise and Shine, let’s get it.” These are the words that Tyron Framton, more commonly known as Slowthai, shouts on the opening track of his sophomore album, TYRON (2021). After his last public appearance at the NME music awards—which ended with calls for cancellation after he made a drunken, ill-thought joke about co-host Katherine Ryan and got into an altercation with an audience member—TYRON reckons with Slowthai’s public and self image, attempting to grapple with the dichotomies of his brash, anarchistic, public persona; emotional and mental concerns; and his personal responsibility and relationships, with mixed results.    

The British-Barbadian rapper’s brash, sunshiney personality—mixed with a potent amount of class and Brexit critique—remains a key theme, while his flow remains aggressively complex and as fast as ever. Unlike his debut, though, TYRON focuses less on the problems of socio-economics and the U.K.’s youth, preferring a direct look into both the internal mental and emotional workings of Slowthai’s world. 

Split into two sections, Disc 1 and Disc 2, the album begins with a handful of songs in his signature punk-esque, offbeat style. These songs, whose titles are mostly snippy single words in all caps, are the kind of rambunctious tunes fans have come to love. Slowthai’s brash flow and thick accent overlay slow, dark, and sonically thick beats. 

“45 SMOKE” opens the album with a horror-style beat and the refrain of an ominous whisper, “the .45 smoke.” The second verse here sees Slowthai change up his voice—slightly squeaky, almost child-like—while continuing the lyrical musing on childhood in council estates from the first verse. 

Clocking in at less than two minutes, this song seems like one that would go over well with the fans who love those hard hitting bangers that inevitably lead to mosh pits (which Slowthai has always encouraged, and often coordinated and participated in with incredible grace). Yet even this song is thoughtful, and the lyrics, “I used to jack cars with a Phillips/Speak patois in case somebody listens… ‘Cause I grew up ’round shotters, coppers, alcoholics,” and “People think I’m Satan’s son,” evoke not only the trials of council-flat life that Slowthai grew up with, but also the classism he faces today. 

Most of Disc 1 showcases this side of Slowthai: the brash, aggressive character of common-man 5p tours and anti-Brexit sentiment. But there’s also the thread of fear and anxiety. What happens when the common-man antics and image of Slowthai reveal something that perhaps is not tasteful or funny? Slowthai has spoken to this in previous interviews, acknowledging that though his first album received acclaim from critics and audiences alike, he felt like people were always waiting for the other shoe to drop. 

On “CANCELLED,” a song which seems to be speaking directly to the NME scuffle, Slowthai seems almost squeezed out of his own song by Skepta. Skepta sings the chorus, a cheeky, no-fucks given response to cancel-culture. The instrumentals here, such as the flute sample and the dark drum sounds (some of which sound like they were recorded in a cave) emphasize the vampiristic themes of the song and the overall ominous vibe of the first half as a whole.

Features like Skepta’s are pretty common on this album, which we can see on “MAZZA,” a fun, hype, and cute tune featuring A$AP Rocky. The production and ad-libs on this song make it a clear departure from Slowthai’s first album (perhaps more in line with his work with Disclosure or Mura Masa).  

In many ways, “MAZZA” seems like two friends freestyling and messing with each other, the shout out from Rocky, “Slowthai, here your part go,” emphasizes the feeling of something more like a chill session than a serious production. From Skepta and Rocky (both longtime collaborators), to James Blake and Deb Never, Slowthai’s features never seem like publicity grabs or an attempt to make other artists carry his work for him, but like a direct emotional dialogue with his friends there to support him. 

Disc 1 then transitions into Disc 2 with the song “PLAY WITH FIRE.”’ Beginning with Slowthai’s statement, “I’m hypersensitive” this song combines his strange flow with a less hard and mosh-worthy “soft-lad” mode that carries into the following songs. Punctuated with gunshots, “PLAY WITH FIRE” combines the external performer Slowthai showcased on Disc 1 with the internal Tyron of Disc 2. The issues of anxiety and depression again rear their ugly head, especially with a voicemail-sounding breakdown and outro—which is the highlight of the song. 

Disc 2 is considerably slower than Disc 1 from the get-go with “i tried.” The first sing-songy lyrics you’re greeted with are “I tried to take my life,” a sample from Trey Gruber. A funky track, with a more lyrical delivery from Slowthai, this song sets the tone for the second half of the album, which is far more reserved, troubled and brooding (though it can also come off as whiny). Yet Slowthai carefully walks this fine line, and while not every lyric or song is a winner, overall he remains aware of his own culpability and navigates that well. As he says on the song, “focus”: “I just gotta do better.”  

Slowthai’s Disc 2 forays into genre-bending, which falls flat for me on “terms” (featuring a moody Dominic Fike and Denzel Curry) but works slightly better—though still stilted and a bit forgettable—on “push.” The song features a sung refrain from LA singer Deb Never that seems to be talking almost directly to Slowthai, “slow down before you break.” This song combines a slow, guitar-based, melancholy pop with interesting vocal looping and beats. “push” seems more vulnerable than other songs on this album, with Slowthai’s voice almost breaking in his delivery.

This song is followed by “nhs,” which was released as a single and feels very intimate. Although some of the lyricism here is corny at times (“What’s Rick without Morty?”), it seems to capture the angsty authenticity that made Slowthai’s debut so engaging. The theme of politics from the debut is also featured. The dedication of the song to the British National Health Service, or NHS, serves as a recognition of the struggles of the current pandemic and the underfunding and lack of appreciation for the NHS. At the same time, it also lyrically and emotionally works as a metaphor for understanding personal struggles of recognition, inequality, consumerism, and the desire to constantly have something better.  

The album ends with the self-referential song “adhd,” another track that highlights Slowthai’s strange flow with a tripping, dark beat. The emotional introspection continues here with interesting choral, vocal samples and a break, in which Slowthai seemingly has a really sweet phone conversation with a friend. These interesting additions and the strength of the second verse’s delivery are great, but the incredibly abrupt ending of the song is a jarring, unfulfilling end to the album.  

All in all, while some songs like “DEAD,” “PLAY WITH FIRE,” “push,” and others definitely work, this sophomore album lands flat with me. Though Slowthai works through internal and external issues with a surprising amount of clarity and takes responsibility without straying into victimization, some of the lyrical themes and beats are just repetitive.

A departure from the politically-minded and grime-based cohesive intentionality of Nothing Great About Britain (2019), Slowthai’s self-exploration ends up not nearly as exciting or interesting by comparison. Hopefully, though, this musical discovery and introspection allows for a fully formed Slowthai to emerge. Either way, Slowthai has made it clear he will not be sitting this one out. Come what may: classism, cancellation, COVID-19… Tyron will work through it all. 

Written by Xia Jimenez