By Jennifer Suryadjaja

2020 looks like a promising year for music. Since January, we’ve heard new tracks from Jhene Aiko, the late Mac Miller, Champagne Papi and The Weeknd. 

Last week, Frank Ocean finally stopped making us wait and dropped two new tracks from his vinyl on major streaming services. Having already listened to these numbers on websites that leaked his work, I’m relieved that I can finally start crying and feeling some type of way, legally, on Spotify. 

For years, I’ve had a hard time describing his songs in just a few words, so allow me to walk you through scenarios that fit songs from “Blonde,” his four-year-old album, as we painstakingly (and patiently) wait for his next one. 


The room spins while you lie on your bed, staring at the wall above you. Arms and legs stretched outward, you remember something funny your friend said a few hours ago. The lights are bright, so you cover your eyes with your arms. You can’t stop laughing. Your breath goes from fast and sharp to slow and steady as you enter the blank void into a slumber. 


Leaving a dinner date knowing you will never see him again. In several years, the only thing you’ll remember from that night is how good that drink paired with the steak you had was. 

“Pink + White”

Hugging your best friend after you haven’t seen her in a year. Watching the sky turn lilac with bursts of pastel pink as you dish on your daily lives over a couple of beers.

“Skyline To

Driving through the hilly roads of a city you love so much. Windows rolled down, wind against your face and hair flying all over the place.

“Self Control”

Keys jingle and teakwood floors creak with each step you take. You take off your jacket while he takes your hand, spinning you around in his studio-sized living room. He holds you closer with every song, one after another. Nothing else in the world matters with your chin resting on his shoulders.


Plates of hors d’oeuvres passed around. Glasses clink. Chatters. Giggles. All in one room. You take one more sip from your half-empty cocktail glass, setting it down as you make your way outside. The streets are bustling with even more liveliness and you zig-zag your way home. You draw a warm bath and dip your toes in with a book you’ve been dying to read. 

“White Ferrari”

Driving to a 24/7 donut shop in the middle of the night. Staring into a sky full of stars with a friend who just went through a breakup. You know she’s going to be okay, though, as you move cross-country. Eventually she’ll move on from him and you.


Staring into the ceiling at 2 a.m. with watery eyes.


Thinking of the one who got away. Tears run down your cheeks.