You could ask about intention, about satire versus sincerity. There’s the matter of genre boundaries, the selective transgression of conventions and expectations, while at other times, an explicit demonstration of reliance on those same conventions.

One could explore the album’s synesthesia-inspired concept, which is, to me, unsuccessfully transmitted through a series of quick, half-sketched songs and halting, ambient transitional pieces. If you’re going to attempt to untie the Gordian knot that is Channel Orange, there are plenty of other places to start. Many of the choices throughout Channel Orange are inexplicable, and pronouns are the least of them. Not that what we know doesn’t matter, but the fact remains that anything that could’ve been said on the matter has probably already been said. This isn’t meant to lay blame at Ocean’s feet it’s not his fault that we so easily confuse art for autobiography. Knowing what we know now, we try to make sense of specific details, inventing narratives whose veracity we’ll never confirm. His lyrics, frequently evocative, are open enough to invite these tarot card, tea leaf readings. In many ways, the artist himself encouraged this behavior. No matter where you looked in the media, people were discussing Frank Ocean, most with sensitivity, some even finding fresh ways to contextualize his release.

The week leading up to the early iTunes release of Channel Orange marked a revival to a mono-culture of which many have mourned the loss. Enough has been written about the circumstances surrounding the release of Channel Orange, Ocean’s commercial debut, so much perhaps that when reading about the album, one might get the sense that the music is secondary to the portents of whatever cultural shifts the author perceives. If you’re unfamiliar with the particulars of Frank Ocean’s biography, there are plenty of other outlets that can better catch you up to speed.

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