Frank Ocean's Blonde (33 1/3 Series)
by Yousef Srour
In the Epilogue to Yousef Srour’s debut book, a 33 1/3 entry
focused on Frank Ocean’s Blonde, Srour recounts that after finishing the
first draft of the book, his editor “suggested that I needed to put more of
myself into these pages”. While detailing and analyzing personal connections to
albums can sometimes have mixed results in the 33 1/3 book series that focuses
on a significant album, I find these personal connections to be highly
insightful and wonderful to read. Although many of the books include details
about the creation of the album, how the album is situated in the artists’ career
and catalogue, or the album’s cultural significance, sometimes learning about
an individual’s personal connection to the album is also meaningful and prompts
some self-reflection and introspection from the reader. This is the case with
Srour’s meditation on Frank Ocean’s Blonde, an album that Srour likens
to other cultural and generational touchstones like Hendrix’s Electric
Ladyland, Prince’s Sign O’ The Times, and Radiohead’s Kid A
(although I might argue that OK Computer might be another comp). While I’m not as familiar with Ocean’s work as
some of these other referents, Srour provides plenty of musical and artistic
influences to demonstrate where Ocean’s music was influenced, but more
importantly Srour documents both the cultural and personal impact of Ocean’s
work, and how not only Ocean’s approach to music and visual albums, but also
his groundbreaking statements about his sexuality shifted ideas about
masculinity, vulnerability, and sexuality in music, especially in hip-hop and R&B.
One of the aspects about Ocean’s work that I found so interesting was his work
with Odd Future, the hip-hop collective that birthed Tyler the Creator and Earl
Sweatshirt but was also infamous for their controversial and shocking lyrics
and themes. Yet, as Srour documents interviews with Tyler and Ocean in his
book, they found inspiration and support from one another, even if their music
moved in different directions and focused on different lyrical content. If
anything, as Odd Future has grown apart and its members matured, it looks like
the immersive and conceptual approach to music and art was apparent in Ocean’s
work as well as Odd Future’s shock doctrine. Srour helps readers draw these
connections through his extensive research “about the most enigmatic record of
my generation”, documenting not only his findings but also the effects of
writing, meeting deadlines, and trying to support oneself through the creative
process. The book becomes not only an critical reflection on the album, but
also a meta-narrative about the creative process where readers are able to
witness the struggles and challenges that artists and creators experience,
whether it is doubt, stress, habits, and even tinges of madness and paranoia
that seem to glean a teeming brain. Are these influences or implications? Srour
doesn’t answer that question but seems to suggest that great artists like Ocean
experience these struggles and doubts that can often be sources of inspiration.
Beyond Ocean’s artistic output, I wasn’t aware of his life
and experiences, and despite being an enigmatic and private person, Srour uses
the extensive interviews and tumblr posts from Ocean to make meaning of his
life and work. It’s useful synthesis and analysis as well as contextualization
with other artists who Srour either cites as influences on Ocean’s work or
Srour recognizes as thematic and stylistic peers. Srour draws connections between
Ocean and artists like D’Angelo and Prince, but also notes how Ocean’s approach
to art, ambiguity, and emotion is similar to Bob Dylan, Jimi Hendrix, and even
Elliot Smith. It’s not the kind of parallels I anticipated discovering in this
book, but it was fascinating to think more about, and how all of these artists
have challenged traditional tropes in music and masculinity. I also appreciated
how Srour balances the facts of Ocean’s life with his interpretation of his
work, providing some biographical details about Frank Ocean’s life and
transformation from Christophere Breaux to Lonny Breaux to eventually Frank Ocean.
Srour explores how this change, along with Ocean’s moves from Long Beach to New
Orleans and eventually back to LA in early adulthood all contributed to the
themes and textures in his music.
What I found most fascinating about Ocean, though, was his
daring approach to releasing music at a time when music was shifting from digital
purchases to streaming. It’s unclear whether Ocean was prescient or just tired
of the lack of support from his record label (Def Jam- and it was probably the
latter), but he self-released his mixtape Nostalgia Ultra, which became
a critical and commercial success (through streaming) before his debut album Channel
Orange was released. As Srour explains, the decision to self-release seemed
to catch his record label off-guard but also was probably related to the lack of
sample clearances on the mixtape. Nevertheless, its success and acclaim
provided Ocean with more clout and sway at the label, which eventually released
Channel Orange the following year. I also found it interesting that while
this album was similarly critically acclaimed, Ocean found its categorization
as R&B problematic as the album seemed to expand on the boundaries and was
influenced by many different genres, not just R&B. Equally momentous was
Ocean’s Tumblr letter he released in 2012 that was intended for the liner notes
to Channel Orange. Srour explores the cultural and personal impact of
Ocean’s letter where he describes his first love as unrequited feelings for
another man. Although Srour’s book and Ocean’s work make the argument that
Ocean’s music transcends traditional genre’s like R&B and Hip-Hop, which have
sometimes demonstrated misogyny and homophobia, it’s easy to forget how
significant Frank Ocean’s letter was in shifting the culture and challenging
these anachronistic beliefs in music. A Srour documents, Ocean received support
from artists and creatives in hip-hop ranging from the new generation, like his
Odd Future fam, to the older generation noting the congratulations that Russell
Simmons offered to Ocean. Srour further explores Ocean’s posts about the Pulse nightclub
shooting in 2016 and the persecution of suspected LGBTQ+ individuals in Syria
and Iraq at the hands of the Islamic State. Again, it’s fascinating to see how
Ocean’s work and words greatly challenged the status quo and traditions in Hip-Hop
and R&B, taking a political and personal stand against the oppressed, the
persecuted, and those who were murdered for their identities. In 2016, I was in
the process of moving and expecting the birth of my second child, with the
hopes that a democrat would continue in the White House, so I was somewhat
removed from all of these events and didn’t necessarily realize the
significance of Frank Ocean’s work and statements. The latter part of Srour’s
book focuses on a track-by-track analysis of Blonde, and explores the
lyrical, musical, and visual elements of the album, tying them to Ocean’s own
influences, as well as the artistic predecessors that Srour documents in the
book. Srour’s book captures what makes these 33 1/3 books so compelling
and why these album’s are culturally, musically, artistically and personally
significant. He closely analyzes the influences and influence but also explores
his own personal connections to Ocean’s music. While some may question this
approach, I really appreciate it. It gave me more insight into younger
generations and helped me better understand the importance of Ocean’s work.
This was a wonderful addition to the 33 1/3 series. Highly recommended!
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