What Wednesday #11
Today I freak out over Frank Ocean like the rest of the internet (deservedly). Plus, Netflix’s 5th best show and a Bill Murray movie because he’s just the best.
What Wednesday is where I talk about what I’m watching, reading, playing, etc, because for some reason I think you’ll find that interesting. If you have recommendations, I’d love to hear them :)
What I’m Hearing: Frank Ocean
I love R&B. Well, new R&B (all due respect to Ms. Ross). The kind with beats, griminess, and rap verses. Soooo, basically hip hop. Actually, in many ways, R&B and hip hop are basically one and the same now. And I’m not just talking Drake, the human meme. I’m talking FKA twigs. The Weeknd. Jhené Aiko. Beyoncé. I still can’t tell if one of my favorite albums of the year, Anderson .Paak’s Malibu, is more hip hop or R&B.
(That’s a common thread among lots of modern music: the blurring and borrowing between genres. A little country in your electronic. A little jazz in your hip hop. A little hip hop in everything. That could be part of the reason why older generations feel so cut off from current music. Genres don’t mean what they used to anymore.)
Where was I? Oh yeah, R&B. Specifically, R&B’s current king of the realm, Frank Ocean. If you don’t know who Frank Ocean is — and if you’re over a certain age (say, 25), you probably don’t — I’ll catch you up: he began his career in the late 00’s writing for pop stars like Justin Beiber, John Legend, and Beyoncé; joined hip hop supergroup Odd Future in 2011 (IMHO, he’s easily the most talented of the group); struck out on his own with a critically acclaimed and Grammy winning debut solo album, Channel Orange, in 2012; came out as bi/gay/whatever (a big deal at the time in hip hop) right before releasing said album; and finally, after a nearly unprecedented amount of internet hype and anticipation driven by his ferociously fervent fan base, released a follow-up 4 years later over this past weekend. (Actually 2 follow-ups, as he put out a standalone “visual album” called Endless on Apple Music the day before, which is pretty great in its own right.)
His music is challenging, intimately personal, rewarding, and strange — he clearly knows how to write easily digestible hit music for other artists, but he keeps the weird stuff for himself. I think of him is as a modern day David Bowie: a mysterious personality that does things his own way, just on the edge of mainstream, with an eclectic, experimental sound that pushes his genre in unexplored directions. He’s got the same androgynous leanings: his new album is named Blonde (a fair headed female), but the album artwork is spelled Blond (a fair headed male), suggesting Frank identifies with both his male and female characteristics (gender identity, so hot right now). Frank even credits Bowie on the album, and apparently the admiration was mutual.
So is his new album actually any good? Well, it doesn’t have any catchy singles. There are few choruses, fewer hooks. For an R&B album, there’s shockingly few melodies that leave you humming. Somehow it’s even more unapproachable than his previous album, which at least had one bonafide radio hit — Blonde probably won’t have any.
Yet it’s great, and not merely for being adventurous: there are some incredible moments of beauty on tracks like “Solo” and “Self Control.” And it’s a wonderful listen on headphones. It also rewards repeat listenings — I’ve gone through it at least 3 times already and it’s gotten better each time. Look for Blonde to make some serious noise at the Grammys (for whatever that’s worth). Beyoncé will, of course, win all the awards, but Blonde will grab its fair share of nominations.
If you want to hear what the fuss is all about, give a listen below to his biggest “hit.” It’s probably the catchiest, most immediately enjoyable song he’s ever made, and you’ll at least get a taste of his incredible voice. No muss, all fuss.
What I’m Watching: St. Vincent
Bill Murray is a national treasure. Watch this movie.
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What, you need to know more? Ok, fine. When Melissa McCarthy and her adorably precocious son move into a new house, Bill Murray is their new cranky neighbor. Bill and the kid get up to some wacky hijinks together; the kid learns about life and how to fight; Bill learns about love and looking on the bright side of life; and it all ends with a predictably heartwarming ending. Oh, and Naomi Watts plays the token pregnant prostitute. You’ve seen this all before (minus the prego prosty) in plenty of sappy movies, like About a Boy. But do those movies have Bill Murray? No. No they don’t. St. Vincent is on Netflix and is easily worth a random date night watch.
What I’m Also Watching: Orange is the New Black
It’s still good, but unfortunately season 4 continues the Netflix tradition of shows slowly going downhill (except for BoJack Horseman, I love that show). Whereas House of Cards just plummeted off a cliff, OISTNB (pronounced oy-st-nib) is just slowly drifting downward.
This current season still has very good moments, the satire remains strong (its criticisms of private prisons have been especially on point, even as the US Justice Department plans to cut back on their use), and the characters and dialogue are as hilarious and cutting as ever. But the plot has been running out of steam ever since Vee left back in season 2, and this season doesn’t show any signs of fixing that (excellent new Martha Stewart/Paula Deen character notwithstanding). It’s nowhere near Weeds jump the shark territory (the creator’s other big show), but it might get there eventually.
