Tyler, The Creator is a controversial figure by anyone’s estimation. From his first album, 2009’s “BASTARD,” to its followup, “GOBLIN,” the frontman of the alternative hip-hop collective Odd Future has been the subject of both plaudits and pointed accusations of homophobia and misogyny. It is not difficult to see why—his work has been cutting-edge in hip-hop, but also heavily peppered with pejorative epithets and ultra-violent imagery. On “WOLF,” the third installment in the trilogy, Tyler moves beyond the shock and awe to more fully develop his talent for production and storytelling, creating an album that is both intimate and powerful.

Tyler’s dramatics and big narratives are among his most striking characteristics in a music scene that is becoming increasingly inundated with hook- and beat-centric productions. Tyler delves fearlessly into himself with numerous, conflicted alter-egos and spins his deepest worries into grand schemes, creating songs that strike on levels both low and lofty. Tyler uses his characters to create tension and drama that he mines to great effect on songs like “IFHY.” As his personas, Sam and Wolf, compete for the affection of Sam’s girlfriend Slater, Sam struggles with feelings of envy, rage, and love. As featured artist Pharrell Williams sings, “Love, love, love,” Tyler is stating, “Look. I wanna strangle you, ‘til you stop breathing / Spend the rest of my life looking for air / so you can breathe, or we can die together, you and me.” The song is punctuated by pointed pauses in the beat, which is mainly composed of pulses and sharp stabs of synth. The production drives home each of Tyler’s declarations of love and hate with force, lending his lyrics a level of believability beyond what his vocal delivery could accomplish alone.

The story of Camp Flog Gnaw unfolds slowly over the course of “WOLF,” but this overarching narrative feels secondary to several songs’ piecemeal confessions from Tyler. When Tyler croons on “Awkward” in a darkly pitched-down voice alongside Frank Ocean, it is easy to forget for a moment that he is speaking as Sam. On this track, Tyler raps about love after-the-fact, shifting from “Man, this feels like a dream because our lips locked / You officially put my feelings inside a ziplock bag,” to “But by the time you hear this, you won’t know what these rhymes meant / But when you find out, it’s awkward, your name’s still my password / So I’m always fucking reminded.” Hearing this, it is not Sam’s characterization that feels most memorable, but rather that the candid words seem to come from some part of the true Tyler, whatever part that may be.

A feeling that seems to plague many of Tyler’s numerous personas is angst over his father’s absence. “Answer” is a rare tender piece from Tyler wherein he allows the listener a glimpse behind his wall of aggression to see the pillars of uncertainty holding up his front. Drifting out of a haze of organ and a hypnotically sweet guitar melody, Tyler rails against his absentee father, “Mom was only 20 when you ain’t have any fucks to spare / you Nigerian fuck, now I’m stuck with this shitty facial hair,” much like he did on “Inglorious” from “BASTARD.” But where “Inglorious” was an unblinking song of spite, “Answer” ends that same verse with a heartbreaking line, “But if I ever had the chance to ask this nigga / and call him…” followed by the hook, “I hope you answer / Because when I call (When I call, baby) / I hope you pick up your phone (Please pick up) / I’d like to talk to you. / I hope you answer.”

The best moments on “WOLF” are those in which Tyler allows his own voice to shine through the pretense of his personas and blood-soaked ethos. “Answer” is a genuinely touching track, and “Colossus” is a truly powerful piece of lyricism in which Tyler skewers the mindset of obsessive, maniacal fans. In the song, a fan approaches Tyler at Six Flags and says, “I got your pics on my wall / With the mouth cut out, now papercuts on my balls.” The song has undeniable similarities to Eminem’s masterpiece “Stan,” but the pressing piano chords and the ominous hum of strings add an air of tension that make “Colossus” a sincerely stirring piece of autobiography.

“WOLF” has all the trappings of a Tyler, The Creator album, with its darkness, sinister lyrics, and extended narrative arcs. Where this album pushes his artistic oeuvre is in its focus on musicality—Tyler produced every song on the album, and his voice is as evident in every twinkling chime on “Treehome95” as it is in his screams of  “Wolf Gang, up in this bitch.” The most important feature of this album is Tyler’s increasing willingness to explore themes in great depth and with greater gravitas. Behind all of Tyler’s smartly dismal production and sharply distasteful lyrics, there has always been a hugely talented, if troubled, musician, and this is evident on “WOLF” more than on any other album.