Album Review: Frank Ocean
Itâs just as well Frank Oceanâs second full-length album is as stunningly accomplished as it. A pre-release circus that saw the Los Angeles-based singer and producer repeatedly postpone its release had threatened to deprive the 28-year-old of the goodwill engendered by 2012âs Channel Orange.
Yet the chaotic circumstances in which Blonde (styled âBlondâ on the sleeve) came into the world are quickly forgotten as it becomes clear Ocean, a collaborator with BeyoncĂ©, Kanye and Justin Bieber, has crafted his masterpiece.
As exemplified by single âNikeâ, the tone throughout is transcendentally woozy, Oceanâs lyrics a syrupy swirl supplemented by dreamy beats and exquisite melodies (in a very good way he sounds like Alvin and the Chipmunks channelling Cocteau Twins).
The trippiness occasionally tips into fever dream, such as on âSoloâ, where he appears to recount a visit to an abortion clinic, and âNightsâ, a lament for the New Orleans where he grew up and which was lost forever when Katrina struck. Studio hook-ups are meanwhile kept to a minimum. BeyoncĂ© has a credited appearance, along with Kendrick Lamar and Brian Eno â but if you didnât know, they would be easily missed.
Quietly put out last weekend, Blonde is already weighed down with album of the year superlatives. Itâs obviously too early to say whether the record will hold up. However, even the most cursory of listens will confirm that Ocean has wrought something special â a tender, creepy voyage inwards that thrills and chills and casts a singularly eerie spell.
Ocean is said to chafe at being categorised as a âmereâ rânâb artist â whatever the truth, Blonde transcends genre and soars high on its own mysterious vapours. Here is a journey into the unknown you wonât want to end.
Ed Power


