Tyler the Creator Wants You To Dance, Not Psychoanalyze This Summer

One of the most powerful dualities I’ve discovered in my self-discovery journey thus far is the balance between present-moment mindfulness and past-trauma excavation. The “good life” begs for both, in my view.

If you stay stuck plumbing the depths of your psyche — a seemingly endless process — you’ll never enjoy the here and now. But if you only try to “be present” (a Herculean task in itself), you’ll be blind to the unconscious patterns quietly steering your behavior.

Tyler, the Creator — a unique heir to the Kanye West rapper-producer-extraordinaire legacy (before Kanye went insane) — just reminded me of this balance.

Only nine months after his last record, Chromakopia — a deep, cinematic excavation of fatherlessness, childhood trauma, relationship patterns, and the looming question of parenthood — Tyler is back with a new album DON’T TAP THE GLASS. If Chromakopia was a therapy session narrated by his mother, DON’T TAP THE GLASS is its wild, sweaty afterparty.

Tyler made it clear from the start: “This ain’t no concept nothing,” he posted on X. The three rules he emphasizes at the start of the album:

Number one: Body movement (Funky). No sitting still (Dance, bro).
Number two: Only speak in glory (Yeah). Leave your baggage at home (None of that deep shit).
Number three: Don’t tap the glass.

This time, the message is refreshingly simple: be in your body, have fun, and dance. For some young people, more psychotherapeutic exploration might be essential right now — therapy, meditation, journaling, religious practice, the whole toolbox. But for those of us who are already in that deep work, the missing piece is often joy.

DON’T TAP THE GLASS is about giving yourself permission to revel in life’s pleasures without endlessly psychoanalyzing them.

The opener dives straight into sexual imagery so ribald it could make Ben Shapiro faint. Tracks like Sugar On My Tongue (“Your body is so sweet… let me just taste it… can I eat you up?”) may make cultural conservatives censorious. But on Sucka Free, Tyler flexes his capitalist side: “I’m just stackin’ up my cheese.”

It’s a mostly fun, raunchy, juvenile project.

My favorites — Don’t You Worry Baby, Ring Ring Ring, and I’ll Take Care of You — glide on lush R&B instrumentals and Tyler’s trademark longing for love. Unrequited love and romantic attachment surface as usual for him. Still, there are no deep dives into his psyche this time. The lyrics feel like a garnish for the music rather than stand-alone poetry. Disco, funk, dance, and classic R&B fuse into a soundscape designed for movement, not overthinking.

And that’s the point. Chromakopia was about confronting the past. DON’T TAP THE GLASS is about surrendering to the present.

Last month, wrote a sharp piece on the rise of “enterpainment” — emotionally heavy art that bares the artist’s traumas, like Lorde’s latest album. Sharing our wounds can be profound, but, as my friend warns, Gen Z risks falling into over-rumination, where everything is a trauma trigger or inner-child wound.

That’s why I believe in therapeutic containers — intentional periods to process difficult memories and emotions — instead of letting therapy seep endlessly into daily life. Without boundaries, it can shift from an accelerator of growth to a brake.

Because here’s the truth: endless self-improvement and psychoanalysis can get repetitive, even joyless. If you live entirely in your head, life loses color. Dance and music, on the other hand, are pure catharsis — pathways to the present moment that bypass the mind entirely. They release the body, loosen the grip of overthinking, and offer profound emotional release.

This is where Tyler’s album title feels almost conceptual. “Don’t tap the glass” means: don’t ruin the beauty of the moment with needless analysis, over-documentation on social media, or trying to wring some grand purpose or “meaning” from everything. Sometimes the healing is in the singing, in the swaying, in the pure act of moving.

Too much therapy or introspection without fun is just as unbalanced as too much partying without self-reflection. We need both.

Lately, I’ve been leaning into my own “Dionysian revival of partying.” After years of heady journalism, intense psychotherapy (including a few psychedelic-assisted sessions), and ongoing work on my self-worth — much of it tied to being viciously bullied as a kid — I’ve realized healing is slow. You can’t fix the psyche overnight.

And in the meantime, there’s life to be lived.

On my recent trip to NYC, I prioritized spontaneous nights out, dancing with strangers, and letting the music lead. Tyler’s record was the perfect soundtrack: a reminder that joy, pleasure, and movement are not luxuries — they’re necessities.

So, this summer, take Tyler’s advice:

• Enjoy yourself.

• Dance.

• Be in your body.

• Make out with a lover (or more).

• Don’t psychoanalyze everything.

• Your issues don’t all need solving before you can have fun.

• Treat yourself.

Life is too short to always tap the glass. Just breathe a bit more. And dance.

Listen to this track and it’ll help you do all those things…

Check out Tyler’s expressive statement alongside the release of the album: