What Does the Title of Tyler, the Creator’s New Album, ‘Don’t Tap the Glass,’ Actually Mean?

Don’t Touch Your Phones 

Let’s start with the obvious reading: Don’t Tap the Glass is Tyler telling us to stop tapping the glass on our phones and start actually dancing. That message is all over the album, but it’s especially loud on tracks like “Sugar On My Tongue” and “Ring Ring Ring.” The music is bouncy, sunny, Neptunes-core with a twist of Kelis sweetness. From the very first track, Tyler sets the vibe with literal instructions: Leave your baggage at home, don’t sit still, and, of course, don’t tap the glass. 

This album practically begs you to get a little cringe without fear but, more importantly, to be present. You can hear it in the way the synths wiggle, the drums skip, the hooks repeat like chants. “Don’t You Worry Baby” feels like a rooftop party starter, the kind of song that makes you involuntarily start doing the chaotic Bobby Brown and Whitney Houston dance. It’s silly, soulful, and fun.

[Precious Fondren]

Don’t Touch Me

Don’t Tap the Glass feels like a glimpse into Tyler’s complicated relationship with fame—the inescapable fan-artist dynamic that turns artists into attractions. Like the signs you see at 
zoos or aquariums, it’s a warning: Don’t get too close, don’t provoke, don’t mistake access 
for intimacy. The glass is a boundary, sure, but it’s also an invitation to stare, to analyze, to 
form opinions from a distance. Just don’t touch. Don’t disrupt the creative process. 

The distance between between fans and artists turns the latter into into something almost superhuman—something to watch, judge, comment on. The pedestal is high and leads listeners to believe fame comes with emotional immunity to constant criticism and unsolicited opinions. It’s almost an unspoken contract.

Don’t Tap the Glass rejects that contract. It’s a reminder that behind the fame is a person 
who still feels every tap.

[Stefan Breskin]
 

Don’t Test Me

Tyler delivers a succinct announcement about 45 seconds into this album’s opening track: “I’m Big Poe.” And Big Poe, it’s apparent, is not to be fucked with. The cover of Don’t Tap the Glass shows a muscularly rendered Tyler in character, wearing a thick gold rope and a red baseball cap that says “Glass”—suggesting you probably shouldn’t invade his personal space. 

Poe himself is presented as a West Coast throwback, and the album is dotted with references to the region, including Too Short’s favorite word and, on the unambiguously titled “Stop Playing With Me,” a complicated legend: “When I get to snappin’ like doo-wop / Really got the juice like 2Pac.”  

And those are just the opening bars.

[Lucas Wisenthal]