When someone tries to convince you Sunny D is Orange Juice: Frank Ocean — Blond

I’m Yet to be impressed by a body of work by Frank Ocean… and before an onset of hate, I’d like to remind you, that we don’t all have to like the same things. Nostalgia Ultra gave us the highest hope for his career, but that was a mixtape.

We’ve all had that tornado that blew around our room creating messes we refuse to clean — and if not for morals, majority of us would be at the Pyramid every night.

I’m not a huge Frank Ocean fan, but out of homosexual obligation, I’ve supported him. With four years since channel orange, all of your “prayers” should’ve been answered with the release of Blond. Alas, after listening, I feel your prayers could have been spent on far greater things like weaves that don’t need to be washed — but I digress. This cannot be the album that you all were fake mad about. This can’t be the album that made you send out APB’s, create a bevy of memes, and write dissertations.

After my first listen, I thought I wasn’t in a good space to “appreciate” this body of work. So I decided to season chicken, because that’s my happy place, and gave it another listen. I was still unmoved. When the album finished, I began to ask myself if Frank found love, because love seems to be the destroyer of true music. Lest we forget what happened when Mary found love.

Frank’s first album was not a classic, but it did have a few songs that brought enjoyment. I do applaud him for openly accepting his sexuality, and walking in his truth — but channel orange had the right amount of publicity and scandal to lure people in. And now that a lot are so far gone they refuse to admit truth.

It seems the only rays of sunshine from this otherwise dreary album came from artist features like Beyoncé (duh) and Andre 3000. This album seems to be what happens when someone gives you sunny D and tries to convince you it’s orange juice. I see what you did there Frank Ocean, but Blond has left me dramatically underwhelmed.