We haven’t heard much from Frank Ocean since his alienating Coachella set earlier this year. This, of course, is to be expected: Since releasing his sophomore album Blonde in 2016, Ocean’s public output has mostly centered on his luxury jewelry brand Homer and merch line Blonded, interspersed with an occasional live performance, loosie single, or material display of affection for his pal Jeremy Strong. He has subsisted, for the most part, as a cryptic proprietor of good taste.
But recently, there seems to be a charge in the air. Something feels different. Because, as we often are wont to do, Frank has been posting.
Since Ocean turned 36 in October, the elusive chanteur has been especially active on Instagram, sharing missives from his life such as gym selfies, a snapshot of fellow singer (and rumored collaborator) Rosalía sitting on the beach, and various Malibu vistas. This week, he released a new collection of soccer-themed Blonded apparel, featuring a Brazil-style jersey and several colorways of jacquard soccer shorts fitted with brooches of New York City iconography, including a silver apple and the Statue of Liberty.
Even more electric, though, were the two new clips he shared of himself in the studio—which inevitably creates even more proof-of-life fodder for the Frank Ocean Conspiracists’ Canon. In the first video, which Frank filmed as it was playing on a laptop, the singer sits cross-legged on the floor of a grand room as he plays keyboard sounds for a babbling baby, who listens along with glee. The next clip, also filmed from a laptop screen, shows Ocean (in a red-and-gold Margiela logo tee and a crocheted hat) flexing during a studio session. “It’s a fucking vibe,” Ocean narrates over the video, watching himself dance along to what is, indeed, very vibey tune.
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I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again here: When it comes to Frank Ocean news, every morsel is a meal. These last six weeks or so, we’ve been getting more crumbs than usual. This could mean nothing, unless it means everything, but who are we to deny a tasty nibble when it has the potential to contain magnitudes?
