Dear Frank Ocean: An Open Letter to Music’s Most Elusive Artist

By: Noah Weinberg

Dear Frank,

You’re such a pain in the ass. Do you know how agonizing the nearly 2,500 days have been since your last album? Not one, not two, but three US presidents have held office since Blonde. My unwavering patience for new music is a testament to your profound artistry. I’ve spent years passionately dissecting every second of your genius catalog. Your two classic albums, Channel Orange and Blonde, offer your uniquely personal perspective on love, loss, identity, and maturation while being supremely universal to countless listeners. You’ve proven yourself a timeless artist whose limited catalog still pervades American culture. 

You're one of the most enigmatic figures in modern music history. The level of mystique and secrecy you’ve kept from the public is increasingly rare in today’s age, where it's normal to learn every minute detail of an artist’s life. You never do interviews; you only step into the public when you feel like it. Frank, you only release music when you want to, and that’s great. I should hope that my favorite artists have complete control over their output and narrative, a concept that’s increasingly limited in today’s industry.

Yet all you do is disappoint, Frank. Your tortuous cycle of teasing new music with extended periods of silence is brutal. The singles released sporadically following Blonde’s release gave me a reason to realistically anticipate a new project, but no album ever arrived. The allure of your mysteriousness used to be enticing, but now it’s annoying. 

I was shocked when Coachella announced that you’d be headlining their two-weekend festival. Did you even know you were headlining? I became skeptical as you did nothing to confirm your first performance in 6 years. Then, with excitement at an all-time high, you actually delivered a Coachella performance. Was it infuriating to learn that your performance wouldn’t be live-streamed just hours before your call time? Yes, but that wasn’t necessarily surprising for an artist of your elusiveness. 

Unfortunately, you delivered one of the most underwhelming concerts in recent memory. You came onto the stage nearly an hour after your allotted time, and the state of California has strict curfew rules that forced your set to end prematurely. Your visuals appeared half-baked and unplanned, with circling dancers blocking the view of many in attendance. Nearly every song’s conclusion was met with minutes of long pauses, leading many to believe you’d barely practiced for such a high-profile return. A return that you had months or even years to plan for. A return that was lazy and ultimately dissatisfying. A return that’s unacceptable to the thousands of paying fans in attendance. 

Rolling Stone and TMZ reported that you suffered an ankle injury while riding your bike in the week leading up to Coachella. Sources confirm that your lack of physical health “was serious enough for doctors to advise Frank’s production be changed.” Your behavior is still indefensible if that’s the reason for the late start time and heavily obstructed stage design. 

Frank, when you decide to speak, people decide to listen. I get that you hate talking to the public, but we shouldn’t hear about you from “sources.” We should hear from you! A preemptive statement alerting fans of your recent ankle injury and what to expect from the concert would have been unbelievably impactful and softened whatever negativity you’re currently facing. And it’s worth mentioning that if your ankle was in so much pain that you had to change your entire show the day of, why were you bopping around to a 15-minute DJ set in the middle of the performance? 

Still, the biggest news from your once-in-a-blue-moon appearance was your continued hinting at a new album. An album with no definitive release date, single, artwork, tracklist, title, or supplementary information of any kind. So who are you really, Frank Ocean? Are you a once-in-a-generation artist of the highest caliber who continuously pushes against the grain? Or are you a pretentious prick who doesn’t care about his fans?

To be fair, you don’t need to care about us fans. You don’t owe us anything. You don’t owe us new concerts, music, or even your presence in the public eye. But if you are going to return to the limelight, don’t half-ass it. Because it appears as if you don’t value your fans. The fans that won’t stop supporting you, the fans who made you a millionaire. I get that you're trying to walk a fine line between personal privacy and continued relevancy – that’s a tricky line to walk. But your infatuation with “higher” art, like creating your luxury fashion brand Homer, and promising to sell new vinyl only to cancel shipments afterward, perpetuates the notion that you’re an ostentatious artist who doesn’t appreciate those you profit from. 

Every decision you used to make felt calculated. The letter you posted on Tumblr days before Channel Orange’s release about your formative love vulnerably invited fans into your past. Blonde’s companion album, the visual project Endless, was a genius maneuver to legally escape the clutches of your former record label’s grasp. Those previous rollouts took foresight. They took planning. But your Coachella debacle couldn’t have been more haphazardly thrown together. 

At this point, your lack of musical activity is just bothersome. Your music is powerfully succinct, evoking strong emotion through a single line or melody. I’ll continue to be a Frank Ocean fanatic who wants nothing more than to praise and stream the living hell out of you. But it’s impermissible to back out of your second Coachella performance without a shred of communication. It’s a horrific look for such a terrific artist. This recent Coachella fiasco reinforces my belief that whatever artistic steps you decide to take in the future, just be direct. Don’t hide behind unnamed sources and a late start time. Don’t be such a frustratingly reclusive artist to get behind. Just be honest. Just be Frank.

Sincerely,

A Frank Ocean Fan