It will be interesting to see how the record ages.įrank Ocean’s latest release has seen a lot of anticipation and hype over the last few weeks, with fuel added to the fire as its release date was continuously pushed back. It is an enigmatic vision, but one that transmits itself immaculately. When he sings in “Seigfried” about ‘living in an idea in another man’s mind,’ he describes Blonde’s own character pretty well. Unlike certain other artists we’ve reviewed recently, I believe most of Ocean’s mid-tempo oddities are considered, constructive creative choices - I just don’t always click with them. “Self Control” in particular holds you in the palm of its hand. Ocean’s voice, in whatever form it takes, is a captivating central actor. The piano in “Pink + White” is particularly lovely, like bursts of light. The production is top notch, a shiny mist. His mystery meticulousness becomes its own thing to care about. Frank Ocean certainly isn’t beholden to anyone but himself, which I suppose is just as well, because whatever on earth it is he’s doing on Blonde is nothing if not intriguing. The album is some kind of high art hip hop, I guess? Cerebral autotuned soliloquies about Nike and Ferrari play off of cellophane dream soundscapes and Facebook anecdotes. I haven’t been sure what to make of Blonde. As a pure display of raw and hasty emotion, Blond is naturally flawed - but its success can only set a progressive precedent. It’s an account of slight thoughts, vague ideas, and delicate musings. The album flirts on indulgence but just about manages to stay grounded. The bottom line is Blond isn’t as accomplished as Channel Orange, nor as infinitely listenable. It feels sincere as a result, and often very touching, but not always engaging. The lyrics retain the intimacy found in Ocean’s earlier work, but veer away from the strong narratives found on Channel Orange in favour of an impulsive and fragmented approach. It shifts away from the obvious tropes found in popular music, and that can only be a positive thing in the long run. Whilst the sparse nature of his songwriting takes considerable effort to consume over the hour-long duration, Ocean’s patient arrangements are commendable, if not exhausting. There are occasions where Ocean finds great power in simplicity, but not enough for Blond to be a complete triumph. It will prove underwhelming for some, and magnificent for others, whilst the rest of us settle for mild enjoyment with a degree of apathy. With its muted tone and severe lack of robust beats, it could most certainly be described as an ambient R&B record. He approaches works with craft and care, and though it regrettably follows the curiously prevalent trend of feeling out of focus and slightly discordant, Blond is no exception. He feels the pain of social and political injustice just like Kendrick Lamar does, but his music remains deeply personal and highly reflective. Ocean is something of an elusive character, carrying a limited media presence that mirrors the reticent nature of Prince. Does it live up to the extravagant hype? Probably not. After months of build-up, speculation and shrewd marketing, Frank Ocean’s long-awaited second studio album is here.
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