![]() ![]() ![]() The bimonthly scheduling of Beats 1’s artist-run shows forces Frank into appointment listening, meaning his fandom, whose superhuman faith in his return throughout a lengthy sabbatical was once a defining characteristic, gets to enjoy something resembling regular communion with him. He was more like Princess Leia piping out of R2-D2 in ghostly blue at the beginning of A New Hope: translucent, projected, miles away.Īll of this makes Ocean’s Beats 1 show, “Blonded Radio,” a novel concept for his fans. There were no late-night television performances or in-depth radio and podcast interviews. Frank was finally present, but not in the overbearing way we get when pop stars crop dust media to push new product. Promotion was faint the shock of the music existing at all was its main selling point. Endless is a genius fake out that freed Frank from his Def Jam contract and still exists only as an Apple Music video nearly a year later (unless you tracked down ripped audio), while Blonde, from its proggy song structures and stripped instrumentation, to the guerrilla one-day sale of hard copies, landed as precariously and perfectly as a BMX trick. Photo: Cheriss May/NurPhoto via Getty ImagesĮverything that made Frank Ocean’s Blonde and Endless exciting last year also seemed to frame the two releases as an orchestrated act of conscientious objection to music’s major-label machine. ![]()
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