Dissect - S3E13 - Nights by Frank Ocean

Episode Date: August 21, 2018

We dissect "Nights" by Frank Ocean, a two-part odyssey whose iconic beat switch divides more than just the song's two halves. Listen to Dissect for free on Spotify and get episodes a week early plus exclusive access to bonus episodes. Follow @dissectpodcast on Twitter and Instagram. Learn more about your ad choices. Visit podcastchoices.com/adchoices

From Spotify Studios, this is Dissect, long-form musical analysis broken into short digestible episodes. I'm your host, Cole Kushner. Today we continue our serialized analysis of Blonde by Frank Ocean. On our last episode, we dissected Skyline 2 and Self-Control, both songs that center around summer romance. Blonde continues this romantic thread with a brief track about a blind date, Good Guy. It's your good guy, he'll be up. If I was an N-wide, I should look you up. I,

first time I never saw you. And you text nothing like you look. Is to the gay bar, you took me too. It's when I realized you talk so much more than I do. Good Guy was written and produced by Frank Ocean. The song's production is incredibly sparse, just a single keyboard, Frank's subdued vocal, and some tape hiss. Frank begins the track, here's to the good guy.

He hooked it up, said if I was in N. Why, I should look you up. First time I'd ever saw you, and you text nothing like you look. The good guy of the song's title is not the man Frank is on a date with, rather the guy who set the two up while Frank was in New York. Frank describes the man not looking anything like he texts. It's a line only possible in our modern age, succinctly illuminating the contrast between the virtual, curated, and idealized digital versions of ourselves and the physical real-life reality. The two, of course, don't always align, typically leading to unrealistic expectations of a person's looks and or personality. Frank continues, here's to the gay bar you took me too. Though it's very subtle, as here that we get one of the few blatant references to Frank's sexuality

on the album. Though it's always just beneath the surface, Frank's subtlety regarding this issue makes sense. If you believe sexual preference to be a non-issue, a part of who you are, but not the single thing that defines you, the references to it are going to appear organically, not forced or contrived. Next, Frank sings, here's where I realize you talk so much more than I do. The differences between Frank and this man are quickly becoming apparent, as Frank's more reserved personality contrasts with this man's more talkative nature. As good guy continues, more differences surface. than I do. It's highlights when I was convinced.

Frank becomes disillusioned I know you don't need me right now. And to you just lay you night out. Frank becomes disillusioned with his date, realizing that his expectations of a potential romance, not just a one-night stand, will not be materializing. And just like Frank's date with this man, Good Guy ends abruptly without resolution. Rather, it just kind of fizzles into nothingness in the same way we assume the chemistry between these two did.

In this way, Good Guy is quite an interesting song. The song itself, the minimal lo-fi production, its brevity and lack of resolution, all exemplify and become representative of the story being told on the song. And the story itself, a one-night trial or experiment to see if chemistry exists between two people, It's such a common experience, yet we rarely hear it expressed in song, likely because in retrospect the event seems so trivial. But in Frank's hands, the narrative is perhaps telling of a larger conflict in his life, a failed search for a sustaining relationship. Indeed, when asked by the New York Times if he's been in love since 2012,

since his last album channel Orange, Frank responded, quote, Not the lasting kind. I know you don't need me right now. And to you Just late Night out All the bitch of the name is the name for the one to fuss me,

you know. Thanks to fuck with all of them. Yeah, I ain't got bitches no more But now I don't care about bitches like that, my nigga, that shit. And Jasmine fucking wrecked my heart. I don't even know how to feel about it. Following Good Guy, we hear a brief skit.

It's a snippet of a conversation between two men. Beneath the skit, we hear the reoccurring keyboard motif first featured in the skit, be yourself. Interestingly, we find in this skit a conversation between a very talkative guy and one who can't seem to get a word in, reflecting the scenario outlined in good guy, specifically the line, you talk so much more than I do. The talkative man says to the quiet one, all the bitches in the neighborhood want to fuck you, my N-word. The quiet one vaguely responds, he told me.

The talkative one then says, I used to fuck with all of them. The quiet one then says, yeah, I ain't got bitches no more. The talkative one, who doesn't seem interested in what his friend has to say, continues, but now I don't care about bitches like that, my N-word. That shit, Jasmine fucking wrecked my heart. I don't even know how I feel about bitches. In this skit, both guys are dismissive of women, the reasons for which are left open to interpretation.

The talkative one claims that a broken heart has him reconsidering his feelings about girls or relationships, an experience not so uncommon, as many of us reactionarily write off relationships. after being hurt. The quiet guy seems to have many women interested in him, but his only real line in the skit is, yeah, it ain't got bitches no more. Again, there's not enough context here for an absolute explanation, but some have speculated that this character may be trying to express to his friend

that he's actually attracted to men. He's quiet because the conversation for him is uncomfortable. He doesn't really know what to say or how to say it. When viewed this way, the skit portrays the kinds of situations and conversations a young gay black male would constantly have to navigate growing up. In any case, the skit certainly portrays two young adults attempting to deal with the increasingly complex romantic landscape one faces with age. The skit that concludes Good Guy cuts straight into the album's next track, the subject of the

rest of today's episode, Knights. Around your city, round the clock, everybody needs you. No, you can't make everybody equal. No, you got Buku family. Knights was written and produced by Frank Goshen, Joe Thornily, and Michael Uzahru with additional production by Buddy Ross. Knights is split into two large parts, the significance of which we'll discuss at length later in the episode. Musically, Part 1 centers first around a sequence of uniquely arranged guitar parts.

There seems to be two guitar parts spliced together to create what sounds like one part. One guitar is a more or less standard sounding distorted guitar. But just as we heard Frank electronically pitch up his voice, most notably on Nike's and Ivy, it appears he uses the same pitch-altering technique with one of the guitars on nights. Let's take a listen to our best approximation of how these two parts interact. We begin first with the pitched-up guitar. The standard guitar then enters, and the two guitars play simultaneously. The pitched-up guitar, Guitar One, stops playing while Guitar 2 continues.

Next, Guitar 1 is spliced back in as Guitar 2. stops. Finally, guitar 2 joins in on the pickup of the repeat, and the cycle continues again, which will now listen to in full. Beneath this guitar, a hi-hat and snare pattern carries the rhythm until later a bass drum is added. Over this musical material, we find Frank delivering a half-sung, half-wrapped stream of consciousness. Around your city, round the clock, everybody needs you. No, you can't make everybody equal. family. I don't even got nobody being honest with you. Breathe till I evaporated.

Transportation handmade. And I know it better than most people. I don't trust in many ways. You can't break the law with them. Guess I'm good. She have a calm night. Shooter's killing left and right. Working through your worst night. If I get my money right, you know I won't need you.

And I tell you, I hope this. sack is fuller. I'm fucking on I fuck up. Spend it when I get that. I ain't trying to keep you. Can't keep up a conversation. Can't nobody read you? Did you call me from a seance?

You were from my past life. Hope you're doing well, bro. In the opening lines of nights, Frank seems to be speaking to a former lover or friend, though to me it's never quite clear who this person is. He says, round your city round the clock. Everybody needs you. No, you can't make everybody equal. Although you got Buku family, you don't even got nobody being honest with you. It would seem that this person is in some kind of position of power, where they're needed.

And like many in power, the people immediately around them, family or otherwise, don't tell them the truth. Rather, they just say the things they want to hear. With this in mind, we might also speculate about the possibility Frank is referring to himself in these lines, as we know after the success of Channel Orange, some of those in his inner circle began to act shady. We recall what Frank said to the New York Times, quote, within my circle, there was a lot of places I thought I can turn to that I felt like I couldn't turn to anymore, unquote. Frank continues the verse, breathe till I evaporate, my whole body see-through. With the many references to weed that are to come throughout nights, this is likely a play on getting high, though it's also worded in a way to allude

to meditation. Meditation is of course an exercise and mindfulness through breath, and many describe moments of deep meditation as an out-of-body experience. Frank may be cleverly likening the effects of marijuana and meditation, both ways of temporarily disappearing from reality. Later in the verse, we find Frank at his most callous. He says, if I get my money right, you know I won't need you, and I tell you, bitch, I hope the sack is full up. I'm fucking, no, I'm fucked up. Spend it when I get that, I ain't trying to keep you. Can't keep up a conversation. Can't nobody reach you? Why are eyes well up? Did you call me from a seance? You are for my past life. I hope you're doing well, brough. If I'm interpreting these lines correctly, it would seem Frank was using this person during a

low time in his life. This person provides drugs, sex, money, but if Frank were to quote, get my money right, you know I won't need you. Furthermore, Frank shows little compassion when this person reaches out later in life, their eyes welling up from. tears. Frank here is somewhat dismissive, asking if this person called from a seance, a meeting at which people attempt to make contact with the dead. He hopes this person from his past life is doing well, but given the lines that precede it, the sentiment seems sarcastic and disingenuous. As Knights continues, we get the first of many environment changes. The lead harmonic instrument, the guitar, is taken over by a synthesizer. The drums change not only their sounds, but pattern as well. Whereas the first

pattern carried the groove with its 16th note hi-hat hits and minimal kick drum. The new drum beat sees the hi-hats changing to more laid-back eighth notes while the kick drum becomes more active. The guitar is spliced back into the mix occasionally, though its presence now is an accent, a callback, not the dominating force it was in the song's opening minute 40. One of my favorite moments of nights is the brief splice of this guitar part in which we hear the pitch of the guitar being modulated upward in real time. Of course, with this new musical material, Frank also changes his delivery, switching from a more spoken flow to a sung approach.

The opening line, New Beginnings, helps to establish this transition as perhaps day shifts tonight. Frank sings, new beginnings, wake up, the sun's going down. Time to start your day. Can't keep being late on me. No, you need the money if you're going to survive. The every night shit, every day shit. Waking up as the sun goes down, Frank is on a nocturnal schedule as he's working a night shift job.

It's never clear what this job is. It could refer to being up late in the studio, or perhaps an odd job he worked when he was younger. My guess is the latter, as he refers to the job as a moneymaker he needs to survive and has to talk himself into getting going to not be late. Knights continues with the first iteration of the song's hook. A hook will thoroughly discuss, right after the break. Welcome back to Dissect. Before the break, we had just approached the first iteration of Knight's hook, which will take a listen to now.

Nirvana but don't want to die ya Want to feel that none Don't you come by Fuck with me after my shit Oh them boys want to see you broke down And shit Funked out and shit Stressed out

Shit that's every day shit Shut the fuck up I don't want your conversation Rolling marijuana that's a cheap vacation My everyday shit Every night shit Every day shit Frank begins the hook

Dropping baby off at home Before my night shift You know, I can't hear none of that spend the night shit, that kumbaya shit. Clearly, Frank here isn't interested in a relationship more than sex, as he refers to staying the night with this person after sex as that kumbaya or lovey-dovey shit. The next line elaborates on this sentiment, saying, want to see Nirvana, but don't want to die yet. Frank wants heaven on earth and seems to be searching for that euphoria through sex and drugs.

Again, Frank proposes sex with the next line, want to feel that nana though could you come by fuck with me after my shift later Frank proposes drugs singing rolling marijuana that's a cheap vacation it would seem sex and drugs

are to escape the monotony and stresses of Frank's work-based daily routine of survival a life that has him quote bummed out and shit stressed out and shit he also represents the repetitiveness and cyclical nature of his routine by repeating the lines

my everyday shit my every night shit my every day shit my every day shit. As Knights continues, the drums drop out of the mix. This allows for enough space for the handful of instruments that will begin to slowly enter, eventually building up into a cacophonist crescendo that leads into the song's second half. It begins with Frank's voice, which is now multi-layered, and the entrance of strings. Frank sings, All my Night, been ready for you all my night, been waiting on you all my night. I'll buzz you in, just let me know when you outside. Here, Frank plays off the expression, been waiting for you all my life. Because the relationship he's referring to as

sex base, something like a booty call, he strips the foreverness of this phrase, changing the word life to night, which of course plays into the song's subject and title, Nights. As Frank continues, he begins lusting for this person after thinking of the previous nights they spent together, quote, you've been missing all my night, still got some good nights memorized, and the look back's getting me right. These lines are followed by the addition of more instruments. A single piano key is repeated again and again, while two dueling guitars enter, quickly dominating the musical landscape. As the guitars gain prominence, listen for a consistent pounding of a tom drum behind them, a subtle but effective instrumental choice that works to intensify the relentlessness of this dramatic

passage. This cacophony crystallizes in a glitching, stuttering, repeating sound just before the beat breaks. This stuttering effect is actually created from those dueling guitar parts. Frank and his team take a very small clip of audio from those guitar parts and repeat it over and over and over again rapidly. Because the sample clip is so small, it becomes unrecognizable when played at such fast repetition. I'll play for you now a recreated piece of audio that displays how this stuttering effect comes to life.

First you'll hear the guitar part as is on nights. Then we'll repeat progressively smaller and smaller clips of that guitar part until we get something quite similar to what we hear just before the beat switch. This effect crystallizes the metamorphosis taking place as night's transitions into its second half. It's one of the true moments of compositional brilliance contained on blonde, the now iconic night's beat switch. On our previous episodes, we talked at length about Frisian, those especially moving moments in music that often induce a physical reaction like chills or tears. As you remember, studies have shown

that unexpectedness seems to be the underlying commonality in Frisian-triggering moments, that is, unanticipated, pleasurable surprises, things that we don't see coming. It's not hard to imagine then why this beat switch into the second half of nights is so impactful. From the chaos and relentlessness of the distorting dueling guitars comes an airy nocturnal beat with subtle reverb-drenched piano samples. It couldn't contrast more with the aggressive guitars that precede it, and so we get this kind of jewel emerging from mud and dirt. we get order out of chaos, and the understated beauty of the new musical material is dramatically enhanced by the ugliness that preceded it.

This transition always reminds me of A Day in the Life, the last song on the Beatles' seminal album, Sergeant Pepper's Lonely Hearts Club band. A Day in the Life begins with the Dreaming Down tempo section with John Lennon at the lead, midway through the song, an orchestra enters playing a crescendo of atonal chaos, from which a bouncing bright piano emerges, signaling the song's second. half sung by Paul McCartney. Like Knights, a day in the life uses chaos as transition. The chaos works to confuse us listeners where we are both tonally and rhythmically.

When a new section finally emerges, its order stands in stark contrast with the chaos that preceded it. When executed well, it makes for an incredibly dramatic musical moment. And while we can't know for sure a day in the life was inspiration for nights transition, we do know for sure the Beatles had an extraordinary influence on blonde in general. Frank stated on his blonde radio show number six, quote, I want to thank the Beatles for almost single-handedly getting me out of writer's block, unquote. When Frank re-enters nights, he does so with a new voice.

Like Nike's, Ivy's, and self-control, Frank uses pitch alteration to augment his voice higher. Every night fucks every day up. Every day patches the night up. Oh, God, you should match you this that kid. No one light us till I fuck my 28th 1998 my family had the Acre Ah, the legend Capit least six discs and a change it

Back on vibes well and Percy had it acted Couple bishops in the city building mansions Let's hear this passage pitched down two semitones An approximation of where Frank might have performed this verse Before altering the pitch Every night fucks every day up Every day patches the night up Like God, you should match it, it's that kill.

No ain't lighters till I fuck my 28th, 1998, my family had the Acre. Oh, the legend. Capite least six discs and a change it. Back on Voswell and Percy had it acted. A couple bishops in the city built in mansions. Oh, the reverend. Like we've noted many times this season,

Frank stated that pitch alteration was used to portray a younger version of himself. It would certainly seem to be. be the case here on night's second half, as he goes on to speak of his time in New Orleans as a teenager, and later his time in Houston after Hurricane Katrina. Frank begins the verse, Every night fucks every day up, every day patches the night up. This couplet expresses the cyclical nature of night and day. Specifically, it seems to refer to something like a hangover during the day that's caused by the previous night's activities. Despite feeling bad and wasting the day to recover, the irony is that by the nighttime you feel better, ready to party again, starting the whole cycle over.

This notion seems to be represented in the two halves of nights. In part one, we heard a more aggressive, callous version of Frank ending in chaos. Here on part two, the mood is much more subdued, perhaps the day to part one's night, as Frank will become more introspective while recollecting his past. Frank continues with a clever couplet about smoking weed, saying, on God you should match it, it's that Keo, no white lighters tell I fuck my 28th up. Keo, or knockout, is a sativa dominant strand of marijuana that's graded A triple plus. Saying you should match it refers to smoke etiquette in which one matches or equally contributes weed to a smoke session. But given the following line, no white lighters, match it also refers

to using a match to ignite the weed. Given this line's proximity to the everyday patches the night up line, we might suspect, Frank is talking about wake-and-bake or smoking first thing in the morning. No white lighters till I fuck my 28th up refers to what's known as the white lighter myth, an urban legend that claims that the famous musicians who died at age 27, including Kurt Cobain, Jimmy Hendricks, and Jim Morrison, all died with white big lighters in their pockets. This myth has been proven false, but Frank, a famous musician in his mid to late 20s while writing this track, is superstitious, preferring instead to use matches until his 28th birthday, at which point he'll have avoided joining the 27 club.

Next, Frank praises his family car, saying, 1998, my family had that Accura, oh, the legend, kept at least six discs in the changer. 1998 would put Frank at age 13, so the setting here is definitely New Orleans. The car he references is an Acura legend, a mid-sized luxury sedan that was produced from 1985 to 1995. A childhood friend of mine actually had an accurate legend, and his model had a cartridge-based 6-CD changer, and his likely Frank's model had something similar, hence the line 6 discs in the changer. It seems the CD player referenced jogs Frank's memory about the music he listened to at that time,

as he says, back when Boswell and Percy had it active. This refers to Percy Miller, aka Master P, and his business partner Anthony Boswell. Master P was the owner of No Limit Records, and exchange. extremely popular and influential hip-hop label in the mid to late 90s. As this verse concludes, Frank begins to address directly a person he stayed with in Houston after Hurricane Katrina hit New Orleans. When we could only eat at Sony's on occasion. After Trina hit, I had a transfer campus.

Your apartment I didn't use is where I waited. Staying with you when I didn't ever had dress. Fucking on you when I didn't on a mattress. Working on the way to make it out of Texas. Every night. Frank sings, after Trina hit I had to transfer campus, your apartment out in Houston's where I waited, staying with you when I didn't have an address, fucking on you when I didn't know in a mattress. After Hurricane Katrina struck New Orleans in 2005, some 250 residents relocated to Houston,

among them one Christopher Bro, aka Frank Ocean. It would seem Frank hooked up with someone there in Houston, both for a place to stay and for sex. cleverly Frank says, Your apartment out in Houston's where I waited. Waited here can also be heard, waited, as in waiting in a pool of water, a sly reference to the floods in New Orleans he escaped. As a bridge into the song's hook,

Frank uses the concluding line of the verse, working on a way to make it out of Texas every night. By doing this, Frank re-contextualizes the hook, which you'll remember opens with dropping baby off at home before my night shift. Here on part two of nights, the hook doesn't seem as crude as it did in part one. Frank appears to be working hard to save money and quote, make it out of Texas after the hurricane.

In retrospect, we know his destination will be Los Angeles where he'll ultimately find success with music. With this recontextualization, let's hear a bit of the hook again, which is now set in a new musical material of night's second half. When viewed it on a no, can you combine, but when we have the mind, I should be little boys, want to see me punk down. When viewed as a whole, we find nights to be multi-layered, both in its expression of the cyclical nature of night and day, and its expression of Frank's dualistic personality, its own kind of night and day. In part one, we find Frank unsympathetic, perhaps even resentful regarding a person from his past. He says things like, if I get my money right, you know I won't need you.

He seems insensitive when this person reaches out later in life, stating, Why your eyes well up, did you call me from a seance, you are from my past life? This hard-edge attitude is expressed musically with a distorted cubist-like guitar arrangement and driving drumbeat. In part two, we find a more sentimental Frank Ocean, reminiscing both about his teenage years in New Orleans, as well as a relationship that took place in Houston before Frank moved to Los Angeles. This softer side is expressed musically too, as the sonic environment shifts to a soft, gentle piano sample and more laid-back drums.

Frank's pitched-up understated vocal part is also softer and more malevolous than part one. These two sides of Frank juxtaposed in nights may contrast present-day Frank with teenage Frank of the past. By extension, we could view this more generally as a contrast between adolescents and adulthood, a juxtaposition we've already heard expressed or alluded to in songs like Nike's, Ivy, and others. Remember, memory and the contrast of adulthood and childhood is a theme blatantly stated in Frank's introductory letter to blonde and the accompanying magazine Boys Don't Cry. He writes, quote, boys do cry, but I don't think I shed a tear for a good chunk of my teenage years. It's surprisingly my favorite part of life so far. Surprising to me, because the current

phase is what I was asking the cosmos for when I was a kid. Maybe that part had its rough stretches too, but in my rearview mirror, it's getting small enough to convince myself it was all good, unquote. And to this point, we also recall an excerpt from Boys Don't Cry in which Frank states, quote, random, but sometimes I prefer my childhood over all this serious adulthood shit, unquote. And so on nights, it appears we have large form expressions of this duality, not only between childhood versus adulthood and day versus night, but also contrasting attitudes, indifferent versus sentimental. And while we're on the topic of contrasting duality,

this may be a good time to recapitulate the many dualistic moments and ideas we've heard thus far and blonde. Musically, we've heard a handful of songs abruptly shift between two contrasting environments. On Nike's, the synth-heavy first half that features Frank's pitched up voice abruptly shifts to a guitar-centered second half that features Frank's natural voice.

Let you guys prophesy. On pink and white, we heard an abrupt shift in musical texture beginning with the second verse. Downhill from gain, dark skin of a summer shade, nose diving the flood lines, tall tower. While solo doesn't have a shift in musical environment, it does have a contrasting counterpart in the song that follows night's solo reprise. There's a bull... ...triving, ...trying to cut down on my spending regardless of winning instead of pretending and bending over backwards, over half of the whole had work done, saying they want something real from...

Self-control contains a few musical shifts, from the unaccompanied rhythmic guitar of the song's first half, to the more saturated synth textures of its second half. Of course, we've already discussed at length the two halves of nights, the most obvious and dramatic expression of contrasting musical environments. But there is just one more thing about Knight's beat switch that would seem to have very significant thematic relevance to Blonde as a whole. One more thing that only reveals itself when taking a step back and viewing Blonde from a distant vantage point. First, let me preface this observation by jogging your memory of a few things. Frank first teased what would eventually be the album Blonde in a Tumblr post with a now iconic caption,

I got two versions. I got two versions. You also remember that the word blonde is spelled two different ways depending on where you view the album, either with or without an E at the end. We'll discuss this at length on our finale episode, but the word blonde comes from the French language where it has both masculine and feminine forms. When referencing males, it's spelled without an E at the end. For females, it's spelled with an E. Also have noticed Frank's sexuality, which he's never blatantly defined, rather refers to it as fluid. Many have speculated this to mean he's bisexual, another kind of duality, although at a respect I would hesitate to define his sexuality concretely. Also, keep in mind all the contrasting musical environments

and expressions of duality we just covered at length, including even today's discussion of Good Guy, in which Frank briefly comments on the contrast between the virtual and reality-based versions of ourselves, a theme that will become more prominent as the album continues. Taking all this into account, it's pretty clear that Frank is interested in this idea of duality, as we've seen it expressed in various forms in and around the album Blonde. Okay, so now back to the significance of the night's beat switch. Blonde is 17 tracks and 60 minutes in length. If we're getting technical, it's 60 minutes and 7 seconds. The beat switch on nights occurs at 3 minutes and 30 seconds into the song. If we add up the length of all eight tracks that comes before nights, we get a total of 26 minutes and

30 seconds. Now if we add to that time three minutes and 30 seconds, the time in which the first half of night ends and the beat switch occurs, we get exactly 30 minutes. The dramatic beat switch on nights doesn't just transition into the second half of the song. It actually perfectly divides the entire 60 minute album blonde in half. Duality, contrast, blonde versus blonde with an E, two versions indeed. Every night looks every day up. Pretty cool, right? What's more is that although Blonde has an official track list of 17 songs, if we divide the album into two large 30-minute parts, the beat switch would mark part two of nights as the first song of the album's second half. Dividing the album this way gives us nine songs on each 30-minute

half, creating perfect symmetry in their track list, and within seconds of perfect symmetry in their running time. Of course, Frank hasn't officially confirmed the intention of this divide, or anything else about the album for that matter. But given all the obvious expression, of and allusions to duality, it seems too perfectly executed to be mere coincidence. And so the next logical question is, what's different about the album's second half? What's the contrast, the duality? Is it thematic, musical, or both?

We'll find out as we begin our exploration of side two of Frank Ocean's Blonde. Next time on Dysect. Dysect is written and produced by me. Additional project support by Spotify's Michelle Santucci, original theme music by Birocratic Song Recreations by Andrew Atwood Remember when you listen to Dysect on Spotify You'll get new episodes a week before all other platforms

As well as access to exclusive bonus episodes Only available on Spotify Follow at Dysect Podcast on Twitter and Instagram And join our mailing list at Dysectpodcast.com Okay, thanks everyone. I'll talk to you next week