Goblin is the post-implosion sophomore record from Odd Future’s charismatic lead bully, Tyler, the Creator. For all the supposedly unanimous publicity tailing the L.A.-based troupe around the overzealous, troll-y, cache-cashing Internet, Goblin is hella divisive. Tempering expectations with output is mad hard but the praise and pans help parse the intense, weird, largely self-produced (minus Left Brain’s “Transylvania”) record. Here’s how that debate might play out: Goblin’s 18 tracks stretch the runtime too long or MOAR sullen, squandering opuses! Tyler’s too whiny, his content too repetitive and entry-level aggro or maybe his rambling, profane, gross-out verses are just prodigiously groomed. Goblin has the Neptunes/Eminem/Wu-Tang Clan/Necro written all over it. Actually, Capt. Obvious, try and conjure Def Jux-y and The Love Below-era Andre 3000-type vibes. Um, Tyler needs to chill with the rapey, calling girls bitches, anti-gay content. No, you chill! Like the creepy shrink narrator, it’s all characterization or, “Don’t fucking blame me, white America,” says Tyler on “Radicals.” For real though, Goblin is as funny (“Boppin Bitch”), down-to-earth (“Golden”), fearful and open (“Goblin”) as it is juvenile (again, “Boppin’ Bitch”), regressive (“Bitch Suck Dick”) and maddeningly repetitive. Whatever bits you cull for your stance, Goblin’s a blessing, in the form of a dandy-era reprieve helping restore opinion to rap.