Behind Bars and Curtains

On Free TC, Ty Dolla $ign is hiding his heart. It’s in there—in an all-too-specific turn of phrase and all-too-real interludes—lurking behind signifiers. At first—and often second—blush, there isn’t much unique or captivating about $ign’s content, the majority of it hinging on lady’s man, don’t-hate-the-player tropes. But to focus too much on lyricism would ignore the qualities that make the artist special, such as his reliably on-key delivery and feel for earworm hooks. It’s important to remember that, for the most part, this music is unapologetically built for the club, the bedroom and few other scenarios. Still, whenever $ign does cross over into deeper territory, one wishes Free TC contained more of these moments.

Possessing the wherewithal to not smoke weed at a girlfriend’s mother’s house isn’t a quality many artists (or anyone, for that matter) would bother to point out, yet here $ign is (on the absolutely gorgeous “Credit”), doing just that. Strange but relatable (while most might not necessarily draw attention to it, the urge to light up at a partner’s mother’s house is surely a common struggle), this line encapsulates the parts that make the best of Free TC compelling.

Undoubtedly, the heart of Free TC is the presence $ign’s incarcerated sibling, the titular TC. Conversations between the brothers comprise the majority of the album’s interludes, and is touching in way that is largely absent from the majority of the music. An exception is the record’s literal centerpiece, “Miracle/Wherever,” which sees TC take lead vocal duties, his melodies crackled and distorted through a phone. It’s a raw, clear expression of familial love.

But again, these songs are poignant exceptions to Free TC‘s impeccably crafted but fairly shallow whole. “Blasé” is an excellent collaboration with Future and Rae Sremmurd, but that’s all it is. “Guard Down” is a wormy, glitchy, weird little track featuring both Kanye West and Diddy, but there isn’t much else to it. The Kendrick Lamar, Brandy and James Fauntleroy-featuring “LA” is a straight-ahead track that wouldn’t sound out of place on Dr. Dre’s Compton.

The whole thing is tight and sports excellent production, and had $ign omitted Free TC‘s truly moving elements, it would still play as a top-of-the-line sex and party record. But having included the contributions of his brother and his digressions into strange, personal references, $ign adds depth that partially undermines the other material, simply by drawing attention to areas where it is deficient. Taken as a whole, Free TC is a simultaneously strange, basic, enthralling and cringe-inducing collection—qualities few other albums can claim.