For the most part, I loved school, so I never dreaded going back for the new term. Instead, in the days before my dad drove me back to boarding school, a mix of apprehension and excitement would sit in my stomach: something new was coming, and I was braced for it. I got a similar feeling when it became clear that Frank Ocean was going to release his new record in August. What was I going to hear – and how much would I love it?
Ocean came into my life in 2011 via his self-released mixtape Nostalgia, Ultra. Somebody played me his song Novacane, and I remember feeling like I was in a lucid dream. In fact, that floating but grounded quality is the defining attribute of his music – like a person wanting to believe in magic, but knowing it’s all just sleight of hand. I played that mixtape to death, welling up over lyrics such as, “I know that we sin, but I do believe we try.” His writing makes me feel very human and a little bit fragile. By the time of his debut studio album, Channel Orange, in 2012, I was fully in love, especially after watching his quietly stirring live performance of Bad Religion. There’s love and sex, but also pain and betrayal; Americana, basically.
Ocean, you get the impression, broods. He’s the boy who may appear aloof but feels deeply. It’s what has made his fans impatient for every next release, while he collaborates with Beyoncé and Kanye, and sporadically updates his Tumblr.
Now, four years later, the visual album Endless has finally arrived, paving the way for Blonde, and bringing with them that familiar apprehensive excitement. Welcome back, Frank: so great to have you in our ears again.
