Frank Ocean assinou um dos grandes álbuns de 2012,
Channel Orange, prova muito real das transfigurações sempre possíveis na paisagem de uma sensibilidade hip hop que se mantém fiel às raízes do
R&B. Há dias, sem aviso prévio, lançou
Endless, álbum visual que, além do mais, parece confirmar a actualidade artística e comercial deste formato (pouco tempo depois de Beyoncé nos ter dado o seu prodigioso
Lemonade). Tudo isto enquanto se renovavam as expectativas em torno de um novo álbum, cujo título inicialmente divulgado (
Boys Don't Cry) foi, entretanto, abandonado por Ocean.
Agora, surge
Nikes, primeira e admirável
canção desse segundo álbum por vir — a letra foi divulgada, assim mesmo, no
Twitter de Ocean; o teledisco é um fascinante labirinto de referências sociais e culturais, capaz de confirmar que há cada vez mais hipóteses de
narrativa nos formatos "paralelos" que, com maior ou menor felicidade, o mercado vai gerando.
THESE BITCHES WANT NIKES. THEY LOOKING FOR A CHECK. I TELL EM IT AIN’T LIKELY. SAID SHE NEED A RING LIKE CARMELO. MUST BE ON THAT WHITE LIKE OTHELLO. ALL YOU WANT IS NIKES. BUT THE REAL ONES. JUST LIKE YOU. JUST LIKE ME. I DON’T PLAY, I DONT MAKE TIME. BUT IF YOU NEED DICK I GOT YOU AND I YAM FROM THE LINE. POUR UP FOR A$AP. RIP PIMP C. RIP TRAYVON, THAT NIGGA LOOK JUST LIKE ME. WOOO, FUCCKKINN BUZZINNN WOOOO. THAT MY LIL COUSIN, HE GOT A LIL TRADE. HIS GIRL KEEP THE SCALES, A LIL MERMAID. WE OUT BY THE POOL SOME LIL MERMAIDS. ME AND THEM GEL, LIKE TWIGS WIT DEM BANGS. NOW THAT’S A REAL MERMAID. YOU BEEN HOLDING YOUR BREATH. WEIGHTED DOWN. PUNK MADRE, PUNK PAPA. HE DON’T CARE FOR ME, BUT HE CARES FOR ME. AND THAT’S GOOD ENOUGH. WE DON’T TALK MUCH OR NOTHING. BUT WHEN WE TALKING BOUT SOMETHING, WE HAVE GOOD DISCUSSION. I MET HIS FRIENDS LAST WEEK. FEELS LIKE THEY’RE UP TO SOMETHING. THAT’S GOOD FOR US. WE’LL LET YOU GUYS PROPHESY. WE’LL LET YOU GUYS PROPHESY. WE GON SEE THE FUTURE FIRST. WE’LL LET YOU GUYS PROPHESY. WE GON SEE THE FUTURE FIRST. LIVING SO THE LAST NIGHT, FEELS LIKE A PAST LIFE. SPEAKING OF THE DON’T KNOW WHAT GOT INTO PEOPLE, DEVIL BE POSSESSING HOMIES DEMONS TRY TO BODY JUMP. WHY YOU THINK I’M IN THIS BITCH WEARING A FUCKING YARMULKE. ACID ON ME LIKE THE RAIN. WEED CRUMBLES INTO GLITTER. RAIN. GLITTER. WE LAID OUT ON THIS WET FLOOR. AWAY TURF, NO ASTRO. MESMERIZED HOW THE STROBES GLOW, LOOK AT ALL THE PEOPLE FEET DANCE. I KNOW THAT YOUR NIGGA CAME WITCHA. BUT HE AIN’T WITCHA. WE ONLY HUMAN AND IT’S HUMID IN THESE BALMAINS. I MEAN MY BALLS STICKING TO MY JEANS. WE BREATHING PHEROMONES, AMBER ROSE. SIPPING PINK GOLD LEMONADES. FEELING. I MAY BE YOUNGER, BUT I’LL LOOK AFTER YOU. WE’RE NOT IN LOVE BUT I’LL , MAKE LOVE TO YOU. WHEN YOU’RE NOT HERE, I’LL SAVE SOME FOR YOU. I’M NOT HIM, BUT I’LL MEAN SOMETHING TO YOU. I’LL MEAN SOMETHING TO YOU.
