Play these songs, it’s therapy momma. They paying me momma, I should be paying them. I should be paying y’all honest to God. I’m just a guy, I’m not a god. Sometimes I feel like I’m a god, but I’m not a god. If I was, I don’t know which heaven would have me momma.
I want to zoom in on the ending of Frank Ocean’s Blonde. These three songs capture an eerie, abstract, and inspiring sound that’s like no other. There’s precision, mixed with complicated thoughts. There’s big stories, mixed with the smallest details about a specific moment Frank is thinking of. Each song has big concepts that could stand alone, with just the main hook and verses, but midway or towards the end of each track, they switch up into something entirely different. And on top of all of this, on all of the songs, there’s additional vocals from him, layered and sprinkled everywhere, adding pieces to this abstract puzzle.
I say all of this to say this: I appreciate the complete level of control that Ocean displays throughout the album. It’s still getting better with every listen.
Every month is a blank canvas