A Blonded Life: A 5 Year Retrospective on Frank Ocean's Pivotal Album

I went on a date a couple of weeks ago, and it was pretty bad. I realized it was a dub by the time we went to get lunch, so I tried making things go by quicker by making conversation. We were at a soul food joint that was playing some oldies, so every couple of minutes I’d just be going, “Man this is a classic… you fuck with Lauryn Hill?” or whoever’s song it was, only for her to just shrug her shoulders and say she was pretty blasé to whatever was playing. That was until “Thinking Bout You” came on, which is probably the only Frank Ocean song you know if you’re over the age of 35, and when I brought it to my date’s attention, her face instantly beamed up. Immediately, we both started talking about our favorite Frank Ocean songs and memories, to the point where we both found out we had Frank on our phone lock screens. I had a snapshot from the music video for “Nikes”, and she had the album cover for Blonde. 

That date didn’t go anywhere, so I apologize if you thought there was going to be some sort of love story, but it was a testament to how much of a hold one album can have on an entire generation. I was seventeen years old when Blonde came out, but I still remember the album rollout like it was yesterday, everybody collectively on the edge of their seats waiting for “Boys Don’t Cry”, until Endless had dropped on Apple Music much to everyone’s confusion, only to be met with Blonde another 24 hours later. It was more than a music release, it was an artistic overhaul. Frank was determined to redefine his image after a four year hiatus; everything in this moment was a significant departure from what we were familiar with already. It wasn’t in defiance of his old self, but a true artistic evolution. In Frank’s eyes, this metamorphosis took years, but for us, two days. The accompanying magazine and music video, albeit sparse visual material, were enough to establish the new look and feeling for this album. This wasn’t the fun, tongue-in-cheek, digestible musings of youth we saw in Channel Orange. Rather, the project we were presented with was brutally honest, with a series of vignettes detailing the melancholy that comes in your 20’s. 

I’m twenty two years old now, and a lot changes from when you were a high schooler to being a grown ass man with a 9 to 5. Yet with each passing day, Blonde only becomes that much more relevant in my life. It’s a series of experiences that are both universal yet very personal. I still revisit “Nikes” from time to time, bracing myself for the last lines before the song closes: 

I may be younger, but I’ll look after you

We're not in love, but I’ll make love to you

There is perhaps a relief in knowing you’re not the only person living in contradictions, and that loneliness is an inevitable part of growth. There is comfort in knowing that some people will be bad to you, and you will be bad to people, simply as a consequence of growing up. It’s cathartic to find out that you will change, people will change, and the relationships you have with those people will change. From front to back, Frank illustrates in painstaking detail the perils of empty sex, drug use, and the internet (outlined by the canny “Facebook Story”), and in the same breath, laments the few moments of intimacy you’re afforded. As he outlines in his album notes, “How much of my life has happened inside of a car? I wonder if the odds are that I'll die in one … It's close to as much time as we spend in our beds, more for some.” The entire album feels like an exercise in introversion, with songs like “Solo” and “White Ferrari” picking apart the one-sided nature of modern day relationships. The famed climax “Nights” still makes the rounds on Twitter as a conversation piece, praised for its forward-thinking instrumentation and unique perspective on relationship storytelling, but the nature of the album goes far beyond the music. It came as a surprise to everybody when Frank didn’t give the album a tour or submit it to the Grammys, stating, “that institution certainly has nostalgic importance... It just doesn't seem to be representing very well for people who come from where I come from, and hold down what I hold down.” Despite the album’s success, Frank made it very clear that this was a personal project, furthering his reputation as a recluse, but also asserting an ownership we rarely see in the music industry. This was bigger than a strong musical effort, it was an industry game changer.       

Five years later, Blonde has proven itself to be a 21st century ballad, a destined museum piece that represents life for the young adult in today’s day. While Frank was always known to be good with the pen, Blonde solidified his status as a writer and storyteller, pushing his talents deeper into the abstract. I’m still listening to it like it’s fresh, and clearly I’m not the only one. If anything’s certain, I’m confident we’ll be listening to it for another five years.