Those who are closest to me know how much I love Frank Ocean’s music.
Nostalgia is a major theme in much of Frank’s early music, including his 2012 album Channel Orange, and considering that the album was released during the summer before my junior year of high school, it is the definitive sonic embodiment of nostalgia for me.
The first song I heard by Frank was “Thinkin Bout You,” which is how I imagine most people were introduced to Frank Ocean. At the time, I was in a major classic rock phase, primarily listening to Led Zeppelin, The Beatles, Pink Floyd, and the like. I wanted to be a rocker, I had been playing guitar for a few years and was getting pretty good.
A tornado flew around my room before you came, excuse the mess it made, it usually doesn’t rain…
I was immediately hooked. There was no guitar. There were no drums. There was nothing akin to what I normally listened to in that period of my life. But it was moody, it was dramatic, and it was cathartic. It was exactly what any hormonal sleep-deprived teenager would want.
From there, I went on to listen to the rest of Channel Orange. I can’t remember if I bought the CD or downloaded it on my computer. But what I do remember is sitting in my basement, learning Earl Sweatshirt’s verse in “Super Rich Kids” one word at a time. I remember getting my license and driving around late at night listening to “Pink Matter.” I remember learning John Mayer’s solo in “White” on my guitar.
Frank Ocean (and Tyler, The Creator and the entire Odd Future crew) introduced me to genres that I otherwise had no interest in. It’s funny because if I had to recommend a place for people to start who are interested in R&B or rap, I would absolutely not start with Odd Future. But that’s where I got my start and I’m so happy I did because it opened my mind to other types of music.
Fast forward a few years to 2016 when I was living in Boston and attending Berklee College of Music. I had lost touch with Channel Orange a bit, I now had more expansive music tastes, so I was often listening to a wide array of music. In August of that year, Frank released the long-awaited album Blonde.
In my mind, Channel Orange was perfect, and I didn’t think Frank could top it. I listened to Blonde on a walk across Boston on a bright sunny morning, and my initial reaction was that I didn’t really like it. It just didn’t hit me as much as the previous album had.
It turns out that I just needed time to fully digest the album. Now that I am a bit more mature, I would say that Blonde is actually closer to being a perfect album than Channel Orange. And I guess I wasn’t the only one who felt that way (Pitchfork listed Blonde as their #1 album of the 2010s, for whatever that’s worth).
Seven years have passed, and Frank still hasn’t released more music. He’s dropped a few singles, launched a radio show on Beats 1 (Blonded Radio), and started a luxury jewelry brand called Homer. All the time, I think about why he hasn’t made more music when he is so incredibly good at it.
Is it because he feels like he can’t live up to the standard he has set for himself? Is it because he doesn’t have anything new to say? Is it because he has other ambitions now (like designing jewelry)?
I may never know the answer to that, mainly because Frank is so quiet and private. But that’s going to change in a few months.
Coachella confirmed their 2023 lineups yesterday, which Frank Ocean will be headlining. He rarely performs live, and this will be his first performance since 2017.
And now this is where a bit of heartbreak comes in.
This may be the only chance I get to see one of my favorite artists live, and yet, I can’t justify spending anywhere from $1,000-1,500 for a 60-minute performance (between flights, passes, and lodging I expect it would cost closer to $1,500). Based on his current track record, I have no clue if he’ll ever release more music or perform more live shows. He’s given no indication to his fans that he’ll do either. So this may be it.
It begs the question - what does an artist owe their fans?
Some people might argue that he doesn’t have to give any performances if he doesn’t want to. That he can make as much or as little music as he wants. But on the flip side, I think about all the people who adore his music that don’t have the financial means to spend that much money.
If I really wanted to, I could save up and make flying to Coachella happen. But the point is that for a lot of people, that’s not an option. On top of that, his fashion brand, Homer, is a luxury brand that sells jewelry anywhere from $500 to $5,000 and up.
Does Frank Ocean only care about his affluent fans?
I have a hard time believing that to be true. But when examining his behaviors, there’s no doubting the fact that he doesn’t give the majority of his fanbase the option to engage with him outside of streaming his music.
Hopefully one day I’ll get some answers and maybe another album. But I don’t have high hopes. In the meantime, I hope everyone who goes to Coachella this April enjoys the performance.
It will undoubtedly be a special moment.
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Those who are closest to me know how much I love Frank Ocean’s music.
Nostalgia is a major theme in much of Frank’s early music, including his 2012 album Channel Orange, and considering that the album was released during the summer before my junior year of high school, it is the definitive sonic embodiment of nostalgia for me.
The first song I heard by Frank was “Thinkin Bout You,” which is how I imagine most people were introduced to Frank Ocean. At the time, I was in a major classic rock phase, primarily listening to Led Zeppelin, The Beatles, Pink Floyd, and the like. I wanted to be a rocker, I had been playing guitar for a few years and was getting pretty good.
A tornado flew around my room before you came, excuse the mess it made, it usually doesn’t rain…
I was immediately hooked. There was no guitar. There were no drums. There was nothing akin to what I normally listened to in that period of my life. But it was moody, it was dramatic, and it was cathartic. It was exactly what any hormonal sleep-deprived teenager would want.
From there, I went on to listen to the rest of Channel Orange. I can’t remember if I bought the CD or downloaded it on my computer. But what I do remember is sitting in my basement, learning Earl Sweatshirt’s verse in “Super Rich Kids” one word at a time. I remember getting my license and driving around late at night listening to “Pink Matter.” I remember learning John Mayer’s solo in “White” on my guitar.
Frank Ocean (and Tyler, The Creator and the entire Odd Future crew) introduced me to genres that I otherwise had no interest in. It’s funny because if I had to recommend a place for people to start who are interested in R&B or rap, I would absolutely not start with Odd Future. But that’s where I got my start and I’m so happy I did because it opened my mind to other types of music.
Fast forward a few years to 2016 when I was living in Boston and attending Berklee College of Music. I had lost touch with Channel Orange a bit, I now had more expansive music tastes, so I was often listening to a wide array of music. In August of that year, Frank released the long-awaited album Blonde.
In my mind, Channel Orange was perfect, and I didn’t think Frank could top it. I listened to Blonde on a walk across Boston on a bright sunny morning, and my initial reaction was that I didn’t really like it. It just didn’t hit me as much as the previous album had.
It turns out that I just needed time to fully digest the album. Now that I am a bit more mature, I would say that Blonde is actually closer to being a perfect album than Channel Orange. And I guess I wasn’t the only one who felt that way (Pitchfork listed Blonde as their #1 album of the 2010s, for whatever that’s worth).
Seven years have passed, and Frank still hasn’t released more music. He’s dropped a few singles, launched a radio show on Beats 1 (Blonded Radio), and started a luxury jewelry brand called Homer. All the time, I think about why he hasn’t made more music when he is so incredibly good at it.
Is it because he feels like he can’t live up to the standard he has set for himself? Is it because he doesn’t have anything new to say? Is it because he has other ambitions now (like designing jewelry)?
I may never know the answer to that, mainly because Frank is so quiet and private. But that’s going to change in a few months.
Coachella confirmed their 2023 lineups yesterday, which Frank Ocean will be headlining. He rarely performs live, and this will be his first performance since 2017.
And now this is where a bit of heartbreak comes in.
This may be the only chance I get to see one of my favorite artists live, and yet, I can’t justify spending anywhere from $1,000-1,500 for a 60-minute performance (between flights, passes, and lodging I expect it would cost closer to $1,500). Based on his current track record, I have no clue if he’ll ever release more music or perform more live shows. He’s given no indication to his fans that he’ll do either. So this may be it.
It begs the question - what does an artist owe their fans?
Some people might argue that he doesn’t have to give any performances if he doesn’t want to. That he can make as much or as little music as he wants. But on the flip side, I think about all the people who adore his music that don’t have the financial means to spend that much money.
If I really wanted to, I could save up and make flying to Coachella happen. But the point is that for a lot of people, that’s not an option. On top of that, his fashion brand, Homer, is a luxury brand that sells jewelry anywhere from $500 to $5,000 and up.
Does Frank Ocean only care about his affluent fans?
I have a hard time believing that to be true. But when examining his behaviors, there’s no doubting the fact that he doesn’t give the majority of his fanbase the option to engage with him outside of streaming his music.
Hopefully one day I’ll get some answers and maybe another album. But I don’t have high hopes. In the meantime, I hope everyone who goes to Coachella this April enjoys the performance.
It will undoubtedly be a special moment.
