Its spareness suggests a person in a small apartment with only a keyboard and a guitar and thoughts for company. Whereas Channel Orange showed off an expansive eclecticism, this album contracts at nearly every turn. On its surface, Blonde seems tremendously insular. The song is a woozy, faded, screwed-down odyssey, replete with helium warble and dewy third eye-and it’s actually one of the album’s most propulsive tracks. It’s also the most overtly political statement Frank makes across the entire record. Even now, four years after the Florida teen was shot and killed with Skittles in his pocket, the line jolts. In the song’s video, Frank holds up a framed photo of the 17-year-old martyr, the boy’s sad eyes tucked inside a hoodie. “RIP Trayvon, that nigga look just like me,” he sings on “ Nikes,” the opening track from Blonde, his wary exhale of a new album. How his voice was allergic to nonsense, how it could shatter a heart into dust. How he allowed us to escape within his carefully drawn characters while never letting us off the hook. There was a yearning for his perspective-how he could soothe without losing sight of what’s important. The stoic empathy he beamed throughout Channel Orange was missed.

Though he posted several elegant messages online, reacting to horrors in Ferguson and Orlando, his relative silence only grew louder as tensions outside continued to rise. How dare you just be excellent?” The Rock quote is from a 2012 profile of the reclusive D’Angelo, who felt compelled to release his first album in 14 years following the shooting of Michael Brown the moment spurred him on.įaced with a hellish loop of police brutality, other musical leaders like Kendrick Lamar and Beyoncé came forth with brilliant righteousness as well. “You represent the race, and you have responsibilities that go beyond your art. “Black stardom is rough,” Chris Rock once said. There are precedents for this sort of thing, for disappearances, for the self-implosion of black genius. He could be the dynamic human of the future, exploding age-old binaries with an eloquent note, melting racial divisions with a devastating turn of phrase or quick flit to falsetto. Then he became the story-an avatar for all of our fluid modern ideals. At first, Frank Ocean was simply a great storyteller.

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