After a four-year period during which news of his next move flitted around in the internet ether like myth, Ocean released two projects in a week, in August 2016: the visual album Endless and the more conventionally framed Blonde. The writing got sharper, too-at once more pitiless (“Crack Rock”), more expressive (“Bad Religion”), and more surreal (“Pyramids”), weaving storytelling and social commentary with an offhand brilliance that has become Ocean’s trademark sleight of hand. In 2012, he released Channel ORANGE, which veered from Stevie Wonder-style soul to string-led gospel and psychedelia, framing R&B as a kind of rarified art music.
He was soulful, funny, understated, and poetic, the kind of writer who made fragments of the real world-a girl doing porn to cover tuition (“Novacane”), a dip in the ocean (“Swim Good”)-crackle with mystical significance.įrom Kanye, Jay-Z, and Beyoncé on down, he gained a cult of followers.
Ocean was raised mostly in New Orleans, and moved to Los Angeles in the mid-2000s by 2009, he’d landed a contract with Def Jam, but couldn’t square the relationship with his ambitions and ended up releasing his first mixtape, 2011’s Nostalgia, Ultra, on his own. Even in his early days as the quiet one in the LA hip-hop collective Odd Future, Ocean seemed possessed by a stoicism and emotional intelligence that was uncommon, luminous-the kind of guy who sees more than he says and doesn’t waste a word when he opens his mouth. It’s that Frank Ocean is one of those songwriters who manages to touch new and distant places in his audience’s imagination, a cartographer of intimacy and confession so intrepid and sensitive that listening to him can feel like eavesdropping on something private, maybe even inexpressible. It’s not even his style (which seems invincible), or the fact that he’s one of the few pop artists publicly navigating the frontiers of queer identity. "It’s not just that he’s an enigma or that he follows his own clock.
0 kommentar(er)
