Wake up, shower, brush teeth, get dressed, plug in headphones, select a song and go. Chances are this is the routine for many across the globe. At least, it is for me. I don’t always start the day with a nutritious breakfast, but I’ll never not have music in my ears. Music is what makes many people tick, it’s like a little voice in our ears telling us “everything’s gonna be alright.” Without realizing it, we fall into routines of what music we turn on. So when a song or album breaks our routine, it’s noticeable. In 2016, Frank Ocean broke everyone’s routine.
“Blonde,” the second studio album by Frank Ocean, was released on Aug. 20, 2016, and immediately made waves. Universally acclaimed by critics and beloved by heartbroken teens across the world, the album is widely considered one of the best of the decade. An impressive feat on its own, but what’s even more impressive is that an album as abstract as “Blonde” rocketed to such widespread success.
The album, sometimes described as “avant-garde soul,” defies genre and conventions yet is hailed for how it almost universally touches its listeners. This speaks to the need for more complex music in popular culture. Music is a way for people to process how they feel about themselves and the world around them. Without realizing it, it’s easy for us to slip into patterns of how we listen to music. We become familiar with a particular sound or style of songwriting and stay where it’s comfortable. We do ourselves a disservice when we let this happen. If music can shape how we think, why not seek out more complex music that makes us feel in new ways?
Take the classic breakup song for example. Even the gold standard for a breakup song treads familiar roads. Songs like “All Too Well” by Taylor Swift or “Love Will Tear Us Apart” by Joy Division work because they engage with us where we are. Either sonically or lyrically, these songs address feelings or experiences that are bubbling just beneath the surface of our psyche. “All Too Well” is a genius work of songwriting because the lyrics and sound feel universal — it’s immediately relatable, and that’s why it works so effectively. Even a song like “Love Will Tear Us Apart” operates in this space. While the sound is different and was fresh at the time, lyrically, it’s very obvious what is going on. It tells the listener exactly what to feel, and sometimes we need that. Ocean’s music, however, transcends the traditional expectations of what a listener gets out of a song and goes off the beaten path.
“Seigfreid,” the 15th track off of “Blonde,” is a prime example of how he executes this. Narratively, the song is just like any other breakup track. Frank recalls a failed relationship and contemplates how he feels about himself and his past lover. Yet the song is far more complex than just a simple breakup story. Frank doesn’t wear his feelings on his sleeve; instead, he writes a song that ranges from describing intimate details of his lover’s face to grand images of solar flares. He isn’t interested in us dwelling on our immediate feelings, he wants to tug at the emotions deeper in our subconscious. He’s walking a tightrope, writing songs that on the one hand aren’t immediately relatable but on the other awaken a far more complex emotional response than a typical song would.
Frank doesn’t just achieve this feeling through his lyrics. “Pink + White,” the 3rd track off of “Blonde,” shows Frank flexing his production muscles. Shifting away from a breakup track, the song is about the rush of being in love. The sound is lush and gorgeous. Frank and producer Pharrell Williams pioneered a fresh new sound that evokes unconventional images in the listener’s head. After all, why wouldn’t the sky look pink when you’re in love? Whether we are aware of it or not, we are used to specific styles of music. They make us feel comfortable, they remind us of feelings and experiences we know. “Blonde” plunges the listener into new sounds that recontextualize familiar memories or unearth long-forgotten ones. Frank composes music that forces us to think about ourselves differently. He’s making us more imaginative.
Yet “Blonde” doesn’t get lost in its own complexity, becoming a pretentious avant-garde blob of indistinguishable themes. The songs feel mysterious but knowable. It’s an album that demands to be revisited time and time again. Interludes like “Be Yourself” and “Facebook Story,” the 4th and 12th tracks on the album, are incredibly simple pauses that ground the listener as the album washes over them. “Be Yourself” features a voicemail from a mom imploring her son not to take drugs or alcohol. On “Facebook Story,” French producer Sebastian reminisces on a relationship that ended because he wouldn’t friend a girl on Facebook. On many albums, interludes don’t mean much, but on Blonde, they give the listeners a moment to think about the broader themes of the album, those of Frank’s struggle with drug addiction and loss of love. Once again, he is changing how we think about his music.
Ultimately, that’s what makes “Blonde” special. Frank is charting new territories in music-making. In a sense, he’s paving new paths in our heads as we listen to his music. The music we consume matters. It is a small part of how we untangle the yarns of emotions in our heads. The small choice of what song to throw on when you wake up could be life-changing. So search for new music and untangle yourself a bit more. Maybe start with “Blonde.”
