Frank Ocean Might Not Come Back and That's Okay
A thing isn't beautiful because it lasts .by Alexandria Goodman B’29published April 6th, 2026
A thing isn't beautiful because it lasts .by Alexandria Goodman B’29published April 6th, 2026
Truthfully, I was first introduced to Frank Ocean’s music in middle school through an app called Musical.ly. To my recollection, his song Chanel was trending and I would consistently scroll past videos of people dancing to its lyrics. I thought the song was catchy and even memorized its tagline (“I see both sides like Chanel”), but I didn’t think twice about it or Ocean himself.
It wasn’t until 2021,while I was a freshman in high school, that I fully listened to a Frank Ocean album. The aforementioned album was his 2016 release Blonde, an album that I would argue is focused on Ocean’s masculinity and its intersection with his bisexuality. Throughout the piece, listeners hear lyrics dedicated to feelings of loss and grief in relation to relationships or even his childhood. There is a vulnerability and fundamentally human experience found in the album that has drawn millions of people to it since its release date; for me, almost every song on it quickly became a staple in my listening rotation. As a freshman entering a new life stage and losing connections back home, Ocean’s lyrics about growing up felt especially apt. It was also affirming to hear such sensitivity come from a Black artist, specifically a Black male artist, especially in the aftermath of George Floyd’s murder and larger backdrop of the Black Lives Matter movement.
When I learned Ocean was no longer making music, I was surprised and subsequently disappointed. To me, it was illogical and unfair that such a musical powerhouse was suddenly no longer creating art. In fact, I felt angry – I just discovered an artist that I like, finished his discography, and that was suddenly it. I joined in on the jokes about Ocean coming out of retirement, talked with friends about how much we missed new songs , and stalked Twitter whenever there was a rumour of a new single. Unfortunately, these activities were in vain as his last release was in 2020 – a year before I even completely finished one of his albums.
It wasn’t until 2021,while I was a freshman in high school, that I fully listened to a Frank Ocean album. The aforementioned album was his 2016 release Blonde, an album that I would argue is focused on Ocean’s masculinity and its intersection with his bisexuality. Throughout the piece, listeners hear lyrics dedicated to feelings of loss and grief in relation to relationships or even his childhood. There is a vulnerability and fundamentally human experience found in the album that has drawn millions of people to it since its release date; for me, almost every song on it quickly became a staple in my listening rotation. As a freshman entering a new life stage and losing connections back home, Ocean’s lyrics about growing up felt especially apt. It was also affirming to hear such sensitivity come from a Black artist, specifically a Black male artist, especially in the aftermath of George Floyd’s murder and larger backdrop of the Black Lives Matter movement.
When I learned Ocean was no longer making music, I was surprised and subsequently disappointed. To me, it was illogical and unfair that such a musical powerhouse was suddenly no longer creating art. In fact, I felt angry – I just discovered an artist that I like, finished his discography, and that was suddenly it. I joined in on the jokes about Ocean coming out of retirement, talked with friends about how much we missed new songs , and stalked Twitter whenever there was a rumour of a new single. Unfortunately, these activities were in vain as his last release was in 2020 – a year before I even completely finished one of his albums.
Looking back, this attitude wasn’t fair to both Ocean or his music. Per the Los Angeles Times, Ocean’s 18 year old brother – Ryan Moore – passed away in a single vehicle collision in 2020. Ocean and Moore were reported to have a close relationship, which makes it reasonable to assume his death had a significant impact on Ocean. An impact so large that it would severely affect his ability to produce and create music for his fans. If this is the case, Ocean’s absence from the music industry is understandable;I would argue anyone in the limelight would take a step back if something so heartbreaking happened to them.
However, for argument’s sake, let's propose Moore’s death did not play a role in Ocean’s musical departure. Is it truly incomprehensible to think and accept that Ocean took a break away from the music industry simply because he felt like it? And if so, what does that say about our relationship with creatives and music?
However, for argument’s sake, let's propose Moore’s death did not play a role in Ocean’s musical departure. Is it truly incomprehensible to think and accept that Ocean took a break away from the music industry simply because he felt like it? And if so, what does that say about our relationship with creatives and music?
Throughout time, music has been used as a means of creative expression and shows some part of the musician. While each artist can decide how personal they want to get in their songs, some sort of vulnerability almost always reveals itself to listeners. In my opinion, by allowing themselves to be vulnerable, musicians then give their listeners an avenue to be vulnerable as well. That's the reason why we listen to Adele during a terrible breakup, Drake during an energetic pregame, or Noah Kahn during a New England hike; music has the ability to hold an emotional or situational mirror to our current experiences.
It is this connection that causes us to be so selfish with artists. We listen to and resonate with their music so much that it causes us to forget they are humans too. They love, grieve,cry, and experience loss just like the rest of us. While it would make for great music, it would ultimately be unfair to ask them to release new songs when they’re going through life just like the rest of us.
It doesn’t help that we are seeing an increasing amount of comeback tours from artists that either should have retired ages ago or decided to come out of retirement. Often, these tours aren’t even about the music, but rather about generating nostalgia to sell out shows and generate profit. The vulnerability from the music is no longer there and is replaced instead by corporate greed. Their music isn’t allowed to gracefully rest, but rather forced back into the mainstream.
It is this connection that causes us to be so selfish with artists. We listen to and resonate with their music so much that it causes us to forget they are humans too. They love, grieve,cry, and experience loss just like the rest of us. While it would make for great music, it would ultimately be unfair to ask them to release new songs when they’re going through life just like the rest of us.
It doesn’t help that we are seeing an increasing amount of comeback tours from artists that either should have retired ages ago or decided to come out of retirement. Often, these tours aren’t even about the music, but rather about generating nostalgia to sell out shows and generate profit. The vulnerability from the music is no longer there and is replaced instead by corporate greed. Their music isn’t allowed to gracefully rest, but rather forced back into the mainstream.
Or maybe, it is indicative of a larger cultural problem that our society is facing. For many, something ending is so heartbreaking that we completely disregard the good moments we had while it existed. The ending leaves a foul mark on the entire experience, instead of being a closing to a story. Even though I am still working on cementing this belief myself, I would argue the possibility of something ending or something ending entirely – whether it be a friendship, relationship, or musical run – gives it meaning. It makes you look back on your experience with a fondness that wouldn’t be there if you had it forever. It makes you grateful for the relationships you have now, knowing you could possibly lose them at any moment. It makes you appreciate the music that your favorite artist is currently putting out.
Ocean’s current discography has more emotion since he probably won’t be releasing more music. It makes belting Thinking About You in the car with your friends more enjoyable and crying to Ivy in your bed more sorrowful. It gives the experiences more emotional weight.
You can’t guarantee that your favorite artist won’t announce their retirement tomorrow. You can’t guarantee that your closest friendship won’t suddenly combust into flames. You can’t guarantee that your childhood sweetheart won’t break it off with you. But maybe, that’s okay. Maybe it's the lack of certainty that makes the experience ever more meaningful.
Ocean’s current discography has more emotion since he probably won’t be releasing more music. It makes belting Thinking About You in the car with your friends more enjoyable and crying to Ivy in your bed more sorrowful. It gives the experiences more emotional weight.
You can’t guarantee that your favorite artist won’t announce their retirement tomorrow. You can’t guarantee that your closest friendship won’t suddenly combust into flames. You can’t guarantee that your childhood sweetheart won’t break it off with you. But maybe, that’s okay. Maybe it's the lack of certainty that makes the experience ever more meaningful.