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Concert reviews Music

Frank Ocean floats above the fray

FRANK OCEAN at Kool Haus, Tuesday (July 31). Rating: NNN


Frank Ocean transmits loneliness. On record, he sings painful narratives about tragic figures, including himself, that belie an observer’s fundamental alienation from the wider world. Even in front of thousands of screaming fans – like last night at the Kool Haus, Ocean’s first Toronto show – he played the calm outsider instead of the caged animal.

Bandana around his head, in a two-tone long-sleeved shirt over a white T, he cut a folksy figure. A poet anthropologist, taking notes on the human ritual of frenzy and worship through a wall of glass. Almost a little too distant.

Since Ocean barely consents to interviews we know just a few things, but they are definite. Thoughtful and hard working, he is consumed with characters and obstinate about his vision. He is a Celine Dion fan. Channel Orange is his second album, and last year’s “free mixtape” Nostalgia, ULTRA was his first and anyone who tells you otherwise cares too much about who profits.

At last night’s show, Ocean was so generous with words it’s clear the no-interview thing has as much to do with privacy as allowing him to commune directly with fans. The past month has been humbling, he said. It’s been overwhelming. It was the day after he cycled around the city with BADBADNOTGOOD, so he talked about Toronto the beautiful. Over the lingering screams he gave constant thanks.

A cover opened the show and everyone, even the all ages babies, was singing Sade’s By Your Side. Sitting on a chair, slightly stooped, this was Ocean in command. “Not even the palm trees could save us from the flames,” went the second song, Summer Remains, and we really felt it because it was deathly humid in the building. Thinking About You was next and as the crowd bellowed the chorus he held up the mic, bringing it back only to force out this weaponized falsetto that prompted a reflexive squeal from the crowd. Every. Single. Time.

The four-piece band behind him seemed superfluous: they augmented his music, only slightly, but he could sing those 13 songs acapella and no one would care. Performing with a band also strips away some of the synthetic, liquid sensuality from his music, especially songs like Novocane and Swim Good.

Everyone was there. We even spotted Drake’s right-hand man Noah “40” Shebib milling about in the crowd. Ultimately, it was an experiential thing so branding it underwhelming feels harsh. Ocean’s voice reached thrilling peaks, and his songs clearly resonated, especially Super Rich Kids, Sweet Life, American Wedding and the metaphor-heavy, seven-minute-plus banger Pyramids.

But the sound was very poor at times he was muffled and the dynamics of the band were askew. His energy felt incongruous with the stripped back, theatrics-free performance and his too-often inner-facing stage persona. No one had a bad time, still you were left wondering: We peaked, but did he?

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