Woke up at 5:47 am to download Frank Ocean’s long awaited label release Channel Orange. Fuck all the media hype, been a fan for years now. Just wanted to hear some music that made me wanna think, feel, write, fuck, dance, sing loud in a mildewed bleached shower & help me write my 265th email blast.
The world has a bunch of concerns that I know I’m supposed to care about. I mean, I’m an alien walking around as a melanin-nated black male in America. I’m not supposed to just enjoy music…I have to neatly pack it in a boxed genre…doesn’t matter if it fits or not. Furthermore, I have to have judgements about who he rolls with & what man he’s fucking or not fucking. Well, let me say this, I just want to enjoy the album, unusual song concepts, melodies both dark and light. Songs where you have to actually read the album lyrics looking for what the artist really meant. #LINESREADBETWEEN
Unlike most of his contemporaries, he’s not trying to just keep up, or maybe he is chasing the Jones, 2chains, The Love & Hip-Hop Atlanta in his own way in a DeLorean fully equipped with a 2015 Flex Capacitor.
So 5 songs in, I’m just going to enjoy something a little different, sit on my rug right above the Moscato stained rug, next to my pile of clean white unfolded clothes, with that pesky spot from 10 years ago where the sex brought down thunder from the heavens, read the old school type face words of a digital album album booklet (What the fuck happened to paper?) and be young in this music shit again. Like for real, when I discovered Luther Vandross all that mattered was his voice & songs… right?
Tell you what… Give me 30 days and we will have real human conversations about all the other shit, right now I spent $9.99 I don’t have, nothing will ruin this experience.
#Orange
No typos, just evolved language
