a review by ali’s baby, written 7/2022
frank ocean is a cultural figure who’s influential, boundary-pushing work is only overshadowed by his commitment to tha nondescript; to tha blurred edges that define his decidedly oblique public persona as international man of mystery nd intrigue, as a mega-star with no apparent regard for his mega-stardom. tha visibility that comes part nd parcel w/ fame, for ocean, demands definition in his approach as tha author of his works- a demand for a commodification of one’s self that relies upon tha well-known nd tha well-tread (im reminded of this quote regarding tha release of his 2011 debut nostalgia, ULTRA→ “if you’re black and you sing, you make r&b music…period”)...throughout 2012’s channel orange, ocean rejects tha revelatory, tha showy hook, tha grand declarations of selfdom that characterizes Black male musical expression in favor of tha oblique, almost deferential role of filmmaker- supplanting himself as tha subject of his narratives to become a musical cameraman; giving definition to his subject’s lives to better reveal tha intricacies of his own- he mines tha seen to gesture at tha unseen, scribbling lines between profound truth, deadpan documentary, nd fiction; constantly obscuring a firm delineation between tha three, paralleling tha emotional pitfalls of both subject nd maker throughout. on channel, orange tha complex stories of love nd love lost are just that, stories. they are stories of indescribable nostalgia, strung together by unreliable narrators nd shifty protagonists, that revel in tha unsaid; of tha lovers left behind, victimized nd jilted by said shifty protagonists- fighter pilots too stoned to get up nd get a job, of rich kids nd addicts, of kings losing their queen’s to triflin invaders; framing ocean as a songwriter obsessed with love as setting rather than subject- rarely depicting his characters as falling in/out of love to instead show them already in love, detailing tha ways it affects their lives…tha torch songs that characterize tha album don’t serve as odes to past or present lovers, but as a means to giv definition to tha intimate corners of both his nd his subject’s lives; creating fertile narrative ground, as cameraman, to better divine tha complexities of luv nd loss. it's thru tha well-worn details of his world that ocean asks tha crucial, revelatory questions that make up channel, orange-begetting half-formed answers...wat is luv under tha shadow of exorbitant wealth? it’s an empty promise of intimacy, masquerading in tha flights of luxury found in rich kids, sweet life, nd monks. in poverty? tha hushed proposal of domestic escapism portrayed in sierra leone belies tha outright exploitation nd dependency featured in lost, crack rock, nd pilot jones. in rapture? an existential longing fulfilled in pink matter, a heretic’s cloying plea in bad religion, nd a radical acceptance of loss in forrest gump…for ocean, tha narratives of channel, orange illustrate an examination of love in all its possible contexts nd positions- evoking tha pop-soul stylings of motown nd stevie wonder, ocean circumnavigates and redresses a canon of Black music known for its narrative diarism nd melodrama-a depiction of love as a deeply personal nd revelatory force; of love as tha ultimate benevolent act, an almost sacrosanct rite that heals all wounds, that gives meaning to tha human experience. in his commitment to writing fiction rather than autobiography ocean, in short, is able to realize luv in its fuzzier dimensions…recognizing its narrative power as context rather than subject- channel’s commitment to nostalgia-induced pastiche is punctuated by radio static nd malfunctioning tape-decks, creating a disjunction that places ocean (nd thus his subjects) as musically//aesthetically out-of-step with tha mor contemporary sound of 2010s r&b (which was overall mor club oriented, vapid, nd overtly chauvinistic), displacing himself temporally as author, nd us as his audience, within tha soul, funk, nd r&b of tha 1970s- foregoing tha autobiographical tone of his forefathers in his commitment to his subjects. for ocean, love is a context that has effectively forced him nd his characters to tha outskirts of a specific time or place- emotionally, stripping them both of any notion of tha familiar, placing them, in a space beyond tha conventional, beyond tha straight-forward. luv is not a grand statement or a plucky misadventure in ocean’s world, it is an ever-pervasive force whose occasional cruelty is only balanced by it’s subtle promise of fulfilment, a dream of emotional security that- by tha record’s end- remains deferred…a narrative framing of luv given new dimensions in relation to its author, with channel, orange’s liner notes serving as ocean’s public coming-out as a queer man. according to his open letter tha stories of love that populate channel’s tracklist are, to frank, evocative of tha first time he fell for another man; an unrequited love that forced him to examine his queerness openly→ ocean’s queerness, a subject position that essentially places him out of sync with tha historically heteronormative portrayals of sexuality that populate r&b music, serves as tha foundational ennui of channel, orange’s deferred narrative- tha source of its temporal disjuncture, of its lack of consistent subject, of its commitment to white lies nd white lines; unable to fully identify with tha bare-chested, macho-yet-vulnerable soul singer of old, ocean rejects tha spotlight to take up his camera, documenting luv at its most innermost edges thru his subjects- in hopes of finding a love in which his most authentic self is default. frank ocean dodges laser beams on his debut, skirting past tha diaristic to instead channel overwhelming emotion-mystery still intact.
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