If the chances Ocean takes on this record aren't enough, his smooth songs full of chilled, occasionally jazzy chord-progressions will be. But even in the spots where Ocean leaves the audience confused, this feels like it's going to be a highly influential collection. This album is a demanding challenge and it has bits that could be deciphered well through December of this year. Here, Frank Ocean comes off like a hybrid between a post-hip-hop answer to Stevie Wonder and post-"Kid A" Radiohead. This isn’t a typical pop record by any stretch. When "Pretty Sweet" begins with cacophonous noise and ends with a children’s choir, the idea starts to take shape. Like Beyoncé’s "Lemonade," this album is designed to be a challenging bit of sonic art intending to redefine the borders and expectations of modern R&B. Most groundbreaking albums don’t go down all that smoothly on the first listen. "Blonde" is a mesmerizing collection, but it's one that tests the listener, depending on tastes. (By the way, a new, proper Outkast record is overdue!) To the delight of many listeners, Outkast’s Andre 3000 drops a verse on "Solo (Reprise.)" This is also ear-catching because he takes this opportunity to call out his peers who don’t pen their own flows. Throughout this record he momentarily references Burt Bacharach’s "Close To You," The Beatles "Here, There and Everywhere" and Elliott Smith’s "A Fond Farewell." These are momentary quotes and just serve as fitting, brief detours. One is a lecture on the dangers of drugs, which is perhaps from Ocean’s mother, while the other is a story from a friend, reportedly French DJ, SebastiAn, about a girlfriend ending their relationship because he didn’t want to be her Facebook friend. There was a point where I was composing for other people, and it might have been comfy to continue to do that and enjoy that income stream and the anonymity, he says. Two of those tracks are spoken-word bits. Five of these 17 tracks clock in under two minutes. This is also an album full of smaller moments.
His closest peer in that regard is the Weeknd, whose “Trilogy” albums set a similarly ground-breaking and genre-defying tone. It’s an approach more often associated with emo-minded rock than with R&B, but it is clear with this album and "Channel Orange," that Ocean is aiming to change the game.
There’s a highly confessional quality in Frank Ocean’s work. At the same time, if you aren’t into edgy, unique music, this album could be quite polarizing from the pitch-shifted vocals on opener "Nikes" to the rambling, half-spoken ranting on closer, "Futura Free." He combines electro elements, old-school organs and authentic singing talent to make woozy sonic concoctions. In the same week that he dropped his visual album "Endless," this collection arrives, nearly equaling the impact of 2012’s "Channel Orange." There’s something unquestionably hypnotic about Ocean’s approach. "Blonde" is a perplexing and simultaneously lulling record that lives up to the hype. Is it called "Blonde" or "Blond"? The cover reads "Blond," while iTunes lists it as "Blonde." Also, if it is called "Blonde," why is his hair green on the cover? These are the questions that circle the mind while listening to this album. Even with its title and cover, Frank Ocean’s new album raises questions.