Frank Ocean – DHL

January 30, 2014

Not quite the complete package…


[Video]
[4.22]

Thomas Inskeep: Four-and-a-half minutes of cough syrup, with about as much to say. The woozy groove is nice enough.
[4]

Oliver Maier: “DHL” seems to disintegrate in real-time. This would be a riskier choice coming from anyone other than Ocean, who happens to know how to wield negative space to compelling effect. If the first minute and a half is a little ineffective — too close to the vibey anemia of A$AP Rocky’s Testing, perhaps — then the remainder is more successful, with Ocean’s gloomy triplet flow becoming more engrossing the longer he commits to it. Not that he uses it to say much.
[6]

Alfred Soto: Another year, another Frank Ocean track that we take seriously because in a career marked by adept self-presentation substituting for often maladroit songwriting he has written a handful of good to great songs. “DHL” emerges as another gesture, a series of discrete verses assembled atop a languid beat. The stream of consciousness names German delivery services, boy toys who give head like Hoovers, and career overviews. Compelling as description, not a listening experience, even if I grant him points for fading the track as it gets interesting.
[6]

Katherine St Asaph: This probably makes me a hopeless old millennial, but back in my day Frank Ocean was a songwriter.
[2]

Joshua Minsoo Kim: I was OK with the prospect of this being a mood piece; during the first half, Frank’s warbling is easy to stomach in this sea of hazy instrumentation. But then, for some inexplicable reason, everything recedes to make his rapping the main focus. And man, this dude cannot rap.
[2]

Kylo Nocom: You all posted Frank’s “Oldie” verse so often that he thinks he should start rapping again. A disgrace. If the opening seconds of retching don’t make you gag, you are a stronger person than I ever will be. His ability to make a song as numb, effortless, and formlessly horny as this and still receive relative adoration is a testament to how far name brand recognition can go.
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Jackie Powell: Is this song simply Frank Ocean feeling himself? While Ocean’s delivery throughout the four-and-a-half minutes is indolent, he’s probably as confident as I’ve heard him, especially when he ends rapping: “Got my partner in the front, been my BF for a month/But we been fuckin’ from the jump.” I’m really tempted to read more into these lyrics, but I think this is Ocean sharing something rather intimate instead of substantive with listeners. And that’s a shift for one of the architects of modern Sadboi music. But on this track, intimacy and substance aren’t mutually exclusive. But how seriously do I take Ocean and his love for a German courier company? Apparently, there’s nothing sardonic about this obsession. The thrill to receive something new is an extended metaphor for a drug trip or maybe more? There’s no real melody here, but what comes closest is when Ocean leads with a sound that is reminiscent of a Peter Frampton voice box song over the lyrics: “Love that I, love that I give/That is not love that I get from you.” Those distorted vocalizations in the intro were probably the product of co-producer Boyz Noise, who gave this track a little more punch and a sizzle. Ocean is an album artist and so far this single, coupled with his new confusing queer nightclub, shows little synergy. But his track record leads me to believe that this era’s beginning isn’t meant to be the be all end all.
[5]

Nortey Dowuona: Wafting, apple-pie synths hide like ghosts being Frank’s ghostly wails as a thudding, limp drum progression rides on a flat pancake bass loop with acidic synth washers rain from the sky. It circles Frank as he turns, then walks into an open-mic night with a bass guitar and a loping drum loop playing from his MacBook Pro in Logic, while a small mouse pulls out a modular synth and starts fiddling with it. For some reason, they sound great together, and they start playing in turn, with the gerbils who own the club crowding around the stage and singing along… “I’ve got a pack!!”
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Tobi Tella: Strange, disjointed, and more optimistic and carefree than we normally hear from Frank. It’s more Endless than Blonde, and while that might throw some people off, I’m intrigued to see where he goes from here.
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