Courtesy of András Ladocsi
The enigmatic R&B star Frank Ocean’s Coachella headlining performance on Sunday night was undoubtedly the festival’s much-anticipated set: Ocean, who had not performed live in nearly six years, was set to headline Fest 2020 before the pandemic hit, and then again last year before pushing it back to 2023. Leading up, rumors swirled about the likelihood of new music (Ocean hasn’t released an album since 2016’s Blonde), the potential for a reunion with his Odd Future bandmates, and the chances of the performance being as moving and eye-opening as last time , when Ocean played in Southern California, at a nearly universally acclaimed headlining set at the now-defunct FYF festival during his brief summer 2017 tour.
None of that happened. In fact, Ocean’s set – which saw him and his musicians deliberately obscured by a cadre of people walking in circles around them – was only visible on video projected onto custom screens that were even more massive than those normally used in the Forming the Coachella Stage – was chaotic, loose, and a near-disaster that will probably go down as one of the most controversial in Coachella history, with flashes of brilliance leading only to a frustrating end result: disappointment and palpable WTF-ness of the audience. (Unlike almost every other set at the festival, Ocean’s and that of Bjork, who preceded him on the main stage, were not streamed live – a fact that only became clear on Sunday night, prompting internet outrage and fear; reruns for YouTube , Coachella, and the two artists did not immediately respond to Variety’s requests for comment.)
Problems became apparent with the jump: the set began a full 57 minutes after the advertised start time, resulting in a strict curfew for the venue, and the first five minutes consisted of people silently walking in circles, leading some to wonder whether Ocean would appear at all. When he finally did, leading his band through “Novacane,” he sounded great, his voice rising over a revamped groove of the song, but he was barely visible on the giant video screens (and impossible to see behind the wall). from walking people personally). This headliner scavenger hunt would continue throughout the set, even after the human wall had gone: Ocean and his band were too far back on stage, too obscured by the screens — there was only a small opening for the actual stage — and due too poorly lit by the lack of stage lights for anyone but the perfectly seated audience to be able to get more than a glimpse of one of the musicians, let alone Ocean himself.
Pauses—long, succinct, “what do we do next?” pauses—were common between songs, and it seemed like the setlist was mostly a series of onstage audibles. That’s fine when there’s intent behind it, but instead he commiserated with his band, his technicians, and himself for those occasional flashes of grandeur: an acoustic “pink & white” that meandered in a 3/4 shuffle with lovely finesse ; a punky blast through “Wise Man” that made it seem like Ocean had discovered — and then digested — years of hardcore punk bootlegs during the pandemic. And when Ocean finally greeted the audience at the mic, he first dispelled rumors of the upcoming new music release before telling the audience that he used to go to Coachella with his brother Ryan (despite his brother’s tragic death in 2020 not mentioned). ).
And with every possible course correction, the house collapsed. A DJ began playing mid-set with no introduction or context, leading many to believe the show was over; It was only after 15 minutes of danceable end-of-night beats that Ocean introduced DJ Crystal Mess, who teased Ocean’s radio show…or something?
If the stripped back set design was a reaction to the over-choreographed nature of Coachella’s generosity from acts like Beyonce and Blackpink, then why did Ocean and his band completely cover the audience instead of showing themselves on stage, a recognition of his raw music? Why end up crazy on your face by having a real kid “sing” a song about your inner child? Why lip-sync to tracks of the only two songs played in their original arrangement when you have a full band? Why are you starting so late that you’re cut off from curfew in a way that makes it seem like you live in a world where time doesn’t exist? Some may have understood the continuous lines, but to a festival audience who aren’t necessarily die-hards, it felt like pure chaos.
In 2016, Ocean live-streamed (and eventually released) an album titled “Endless,” which consists of jumbled jams and instrumentals, accompanied by a video in which he appears to be building a staircase out of blocks. The next day he released his masterpiece “Blonde”. Was Sunday night’s performance another head fake, and will he play a real set during the second weekend of Coachella? We will see.
Loved in part for his unpredictability, Ocean’s most devoted fans will surely demand sheer artistry as an excuse. That’s okay: Ocean should be free to let his creativity flow however he wants. However, in front of 100,000 people you’ve been wanting to see for years, having a plan is more than helpful: it’s necessary. Hopefully by next weekend Ocean will actually have one.