And the album’s handful of love songs meant for men - 'Thinkin Bout You,' 'Bad Religion,' and 'Forrest Gump' - are delicate and universal without compromising their queerness. 'Lost' and 'Crack Rock' put human faces on addiction. (If you like overwrought Genius annotations, clear out an hour one afternoon and spend it with the amateur analysts plumbing the album’s depths.) 'Sweet Life' and 'Super Rich Kids' are the most potent documents of LA class anxiety this side of The Bling Ring. The same is true of his writing, which remains mysterious and ripe for interpretation even today. His virtuosity is fluid, natural it’s working in service of emotions and stories. Like aquiline porn-soul melting from a warped vinyl, Ocean's honeyed tenor syncs with the lusty bass beats that protrude from desaturated washes of. Full Review 9y 100 The Arts Desk He's clearly a natural storyteller and a keen observer anyway. 'Cloud-rap' by any other name, Channel Orange's most hipster cut plies a Main Attrakionz-esque mix of chillwave and wet-look 80s, before kicking it up a notch for a vintage funk jam, 70s style. In throwing his emotional locker wide open, Frank Ocean has made a tender, engrossing classic. Ocean is never trying to sing you off the map. Full Review 8y 100 The Fly The album climaxes in romantic deluge Ocean’s magnificent delivery ensures every tearful story feels true, tangible, relatable.

That doesn’t mean it’s an album for show-offs. Almost every song on Channel Orange contains at least one breathtaking moment: unearthly falsettos, pained shrieks, impassioned belting, unexpected melodic flourishes. The breadth is complimented by the vibe, which is casual and conversational despite Ocean’s ambition and prodigious skill.

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