solo
The thing Iām liking the most about Frank Oceanās new album is that itās forcing a generation of kids, who donāt know what the world āpatientā means, to be patient. I had a conversation the other day with the rapper MadeinTYO, a young kid who scored a viral hit called āUber Everywhere,ā a post-Keefian trap song embracing the conveniences of 2016-app use. Itās a silly little track, one thatās easy to sing when drunk and even more fun to quote in your every day lifeālike, um, when youāre riding in an Uber.
During our conversation, he talked a lot, but specifically tried to explain to me what the last year of his life has been like, what possibly āgoing viralā could mean in the post- post- post-modern modern modern era (or whatever it is that weāre currently living in). I donāt remember exactly the phrase he used, but at one point, he mentioned something about how itās crazy, when you get famous on the internet at a rapid pace, suddenly āeveryoneā is wanting to send you snaps. He defined āeveryoneā by using names like Kylie Jenner and Lil Yachty. I told him that what he was saying made me feel old.
I saw someone tweet the other day, and I donāt quite remember who exactly it was, and said something about how she loved Snapchat so much because it feels like Rihanna is not only one of her friends, but in her friend circle.
When I was making a documentary earlier this summer, we were in a place where nobody really knew or heard of VICE. It was in Middle America. But upon hearing our name, they did perk up with curiosity, like when you overhear a stranger mention a friend. Then, on multiple occasions, Iād hear the following question: āWait, is that the Snapchat story?ā
This, I hope, doesnāt read as āold man yells at cloud,ā with the old man being me and the cloud being Snapchat. Itās a beautifully innovative social network that has brought humanity closer together, which is something Iām all for. After all, the phone I carry around in my pocket 24 hours a dayāan iPhone 6s Plusāis the size of a small television. Later today, I plan to have a video call with my parents who live in the mountains of Colorado. Iām in New York. Iāll probably be annoyed if the video isnāt crystal clear on my big phone. I just think itās good for us to think about what it means to be patient.
About a year ago, on this tumblr that I rarely update because of reasons like āworkā and ādoing other things,ā I wrote a quick post in the middle of the night while listening to Carly Rae Jepsenās latest album EMOTION. It wasnāt really about the music, but about how I felt my life was spinning at that timeāwhich, I guess, out of control would be both the wrong and right way to describe it. Not alarmist, just forward. This is being an adult. This is life. This is the time when you make decisions, like about which frame should be used for a painting to be hung on the wall, what coffee table should be purchased, should we get a used couch. Paychecks now go further than bar tabs. New socks are a regular expense.
Blond, or Blonde, or Boys Donāt Cry, is somber. Itās a record that seems to be wandering with purpose, like walking aimlessly through a city only to find a perfect bar for a sunset drink. The whole time I felt as though I was in the presence of a $16m McLaren F1 armed with a disposable camera, Frank wrote about its inspiration. Itās packaged this way, sleek and heartbroken and wrapped up in a cocoon of nostalgia. In some ways, this entire project feels like a continuation of āBad Religion,ā a song from Channel Orange. A song about letting go. A record, now, about accepting what that means.
The months of this year have been full of looking back my life, both purposefully and not, asking myself how Iāve arrived at this moment. Some friends of mine from home got married in June, and I found myself sweating in the Iowa summer heat for the first time in almost a decade, watching these two lovely people commit to one another for the rest of their lives. Then I got hammered into the night and road a bus with a bunch of people I hadnāt seen in over ten years through cornfields below a sea of very bright stars while listening to Justin Bieberās āWhat Do You Mean.ā The time surrounding the wedding, I spent with my nephews, playing countless hours of Battleship and Monopoly Jr. My birthday also fell on a date during this time, and they made me a birthday cake. It had way too many sprinkles, but not enough for a couple of six-year-olds.
My uncle died in February. My grandma died a couple weeks after that. They were different sides of the family, but the same in my family. I know it was difficult for my mom and my dad, experiencing each loss as they compounded on top of one another. My grandma lived a marvelous life in which she gave birth to nine children. I donāt really know if thereās a better eulogy for her than to just look at the size of the family. She wanted the grandsons to carry the casket, so the eight of us hoisted it up the stairs of the big Catholic churchāthe same one in which my friends would get marriedāas the rest of the family, all sixty-plus of them, followed behind. The reception provided too much food, and, Iām not exaggerating here, roughly 33 different types of casseroles. Grandma was 98, and had been fighting the inevitable for quite some time. Despite the sadness, it seemed appropriate to lay her to rest.
When Ron died, he was 70, which is not unreasonably old. It was a surprise, despite the fact that heād never been the healthiest guy. I donāt know what to write about him that will do him justice. Can I say he was the best storyteller whoās ever walked the planet and not feel like Iām lying? Yeah, I can. His obituary agreed, describing him as āa great storyteller and a student of history and government.ā The day he died I published an interview Iād done with Paul McCartney. It felt like a big moment in my careerāa Beatle!āand I wrote about it on my Facebook page. Ron commented, writing about how he was proud of this āProfessionalā moment (his capital P), calling me ānephewā directly. I smiled and liked it, both mentally and physically. A few hours later, my dad called me. āRon died,ā he said. There was a slight crack in his voice. Two days later, I flew back to Iowa. It was the same day that Kanye West released The Life of Pablo. To no one but myself, I called Ron an ultralight beam. I still call him that.
I think my favorite song on Blond, as of now, is āSolo.ā I think itās a song about meditation, smoking marijuana and taking psychedelics alone, marveling at how big the world can feel if you think about it long enough. Here are the first lyrics: āHand me a towel Iām dirty dancing by myself, gone off tabs of that acid, form me a circle, watch my Jagger, might lose my jacket and hit a solo.ā Itās a song meant for what 2016 has been to me, growth and acceptance and being comfortable with whatever my Jagger is. I still donāt really know what Iām doing, but Iām more comfortable with that lack of comfort. Thereās never been a moment in my life thatās been happier than I am right now.Ā
The new apartment is nice. Soon weāll have a guest room.
