Frank Ocean’s last album, Channel Orange, was – like Stanley Tucci – universally adored. His new album is not bad, it’s just… well, it’s not the Tucci we know and love. If The Devil Wears Prada is peak Tucci, then Blond is Lucky Number Slevin – there were great moments, sure, but you can’t really remember any of them. The album itself feels warm and woozy, but in being the opposite of Orange – instead of a BBQ playlist, you get a sprawling, emotional diary entry – Blond feels too raw to actually process right now, let alone enjoy. You respect the scope and intent but due to sheer impenetrability, it’s hard to be too effusive.
Best track: Opening track Nikes is about wanting trainers and sounds like listening to Because The Internet while drowning – but in a really, really great way.
The skinny-jeaned corpse of 2007 indie is risen and dragging its battered Converse to a venue near you
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