The impetus for the new collection came just over a year ago, when Tyler headlined Coachella and created a dossier of printouts from the back catalogue to give a presentation to the Converse team. “It’s the fastest we’ve ever made a shoe,” confirms Lindsay Almeida, Converse’s global senior director of entertainment and sports marketing. For Almeida’s part, working with Tyler just makes sense. “Nine-point-nine times out of 10, we say yes to [Tyler’s ideas]. That’s the kind of trust we’ve built over the years. Everything you do, it might not click in the moment, but overall, it’s right. We’ve been on this ride for a long time and we just keep it real.”
This trust didn’t come out of the blue. “From 2011 to 2016, I was building a resumé of things that worked in my realm. So when I did link [with Converse in 2016], they had a reference point to say, ‘You know what, let’s trust this guy’s idea, because it clearly worked in some type of way,’” Tyler explained, fielding questions from the crowd. “That’s the importance of trusting yourself and just putting shit out so you can build that resumé.”
It’s a testament to the working relationships Tyler has fostered almost 20 years into his career, too. From exploding onto the scene with his friends (via the now disbanded music collective Odd Future) to creating a de-facto record label in his teens, he’s always had an entrepreneurial streak, boosted by his tight-knit network of kindred spirits. Odd Future alumni include the likes of Frank Ocean, Earl Sweatshirt, and Syd, who, through their comedy sketches and outrageous beats, would go on on to change the face of music-making, one genre-defying, agenda-setting project at a time.
The now 34-year-old has worked with his managers, Kelly and Christian Clancy, for 15 years, no small feat in a fickle industry: They ditched their high-flying jobs at Interscope Records to join forces with Tyler. “[Tyler] exists in a world where, if he follows the algorithm, that’s not him,” says Christian. “He has to go over there and let the algorithm adjust to him.”
It’s clear that inside the sprawling, kaleidoscopic machine that is Tyler’s brain, Clancy et al are the driving force that facilitates his self-described “delusion.” “To make stuff, you have to be delusional,” Tyler says. “And when you’re delusional, you need people around you that trust you… I knew what I wanted to do since I was legit five years old. This is the only thing I was supposed to do.”