Dissect - S3E3 – Super Rich Kids by Frank Ocean

Episode Date: June 5, 2018

Our serialized examination of Frank Ocean’s channel ORANGE continues with “Super Rich Kids”, a tragic rumination on the effects of wealth disguised as a party anthem. Follow @dissectpodcast on Twitter and Instagram. Learn more about your ad choices. Visit podcastchoices.com/adchoices

From Spotify studios, welcome to dissect, long-form musical analysis broken into short digestible episodes. I'm your host, Cole Kushner. Today, we continue our serialized analysis of Channel Orange by Frank Ocean. On our last episode, we discussed the importance of Ocean's open letter posted on Tumblr's just days before the release of Channel Orange, as well as the opening track start. There, we heard a cryptic skit that seems to portray a brief dream about Frank's first love, followed by him turning on a television and playing Street Fighter. Then we dissected the album's second track, thinking about you, a heartfelt ode to an uninterested lover.

There, we speculated that the song's subject was the same man Frank was dreaming about in the opening moments of the album, establishing a theme of remembering, longing, and by the distraction of a television, an attempt at forgetting. Channel Orange continues with the track Fertilizer, which begins with the sounds of a television. I think... The first sound we hear is fighting noises from Street Fighter.

Of course, this was a game Frank began playing on the album's opening track, so it's safe to assume this is a continuation of that narrative. The channel is then changed abruptly, and we hear a brief clip of a television program. The channel has changed again, and the song Fertilizer begins playing. This swinging, catchy tune sounds like a commercial jingle, and there's a filter placed on the track to make it sound as if it's playing from a television. Performed by Ocean, Fertilizer is actually a cover of the song by James Fauntleroy from his 2010 mixtape leading by example. Fertilizer centers around a man who's going through relationship problems.

He compares his heart to a garden where it never rains, as his lover is giving him the silent treatment. He begs for something, anything from his partner but silence. Hence the line, Fertilizer, I'll take bullshit if that's all you got. Without some fertilizer, tears, and sunshine, all the growing stops. whatever, I just need it from you. After Channel Orange's opening dream sequence and the unrecipricated love on thinking about you, the sentiments on Fertilizer are in line with the theme of unrequited love being established early on the album. Fertilizer also helps to establish the television motif that will continue throughout Channel Orange.

Because Ocean's songwriting is so story-driven, this television motif is a clever narrative tool, each song playing like a different channel being watched. At the end of the fertilizer jingle, we hear a laugh track followed by a no signal sound, leading into the song Sierra Leone. Sierra Leone tells the story of two young adults having unprotected sex, an act that leads to the birth of their daughter at the song's end. It features a call-and-response technique throughout the majority of the song, with one line being spoken, followed by another line being sung.

We're spending too much time alone. We're spending too much time alone. The song may have taken inspiration from Marvin Gay's Save the Children, a track that features a similar call-and-response technique. Frank uses a series of metaphors and double meanings on Sierra Leone to tell the story of the two young lovers. The line, I Just Ran Out of Trojans, portrays the absence of a condom, followed directly by the line, horses gallop to her throne, which portrays the insemination that occurs as a result.

The song's main metaphor is Sierra Leone, a country in Africa known for its diamonds, a brutal civil war, and its beaches and beautiful sunsets. Frank sings, no, I don't live in Denver, I grew up in Sierra Leone, and her pink skies will keep me warm. Here Frank compares Denver, a state known for its gold, and Sierra Leone, a country known for its diamonds. Saying he grew up in Sierra Leone alludes to the hostile environment the protagonist was raised in, not the safe suburban reality represented by Denver. But the main use of Sierra Leone is a metaphoric representation of a woman's vagina, the warm pink skies being the walls of a vagina that produce pleasure, the diamonds being the children they incubate in birth. When viewed this way, I grew up in Sierra Leone

also alludes to the child being created by the couple's act of unprotected sex. Towards the end of Sierra Leone comes the birth of the child, an event represented both lyrically and sonically. Frank sings and a new day will bring about the dawn, and a new day will bring another crying babe into the world. These lines are accompanied by a dramatic cacophony of backwards tape loops. Right after the line, bring another crying babe into the world, we hear the chime of a glockenspiel and symphonic strings enter, signaling the baby's birth.

Daughter's reaching for your nipple because it's time of her. We might be To sleep Oh, go to sleep The line in love She can have a baby girl If you knew what I know I know

Immediately after this entire section As a sonic depiction of childbirth Immediately after this section A strategic modulation occurs A modulation is when A piece of music changes key signatures Which usually makes for a dramatic musical moment.

On Sierra Leone, the song shifts from G major to D flat major precisely after the child is born, representing the quote, New Day or New Life in which the protagonist now lives nine months later. Frank sings, Our daughter's reaching for your nipple because it's time for her to eat. Tonight, I'll lay her in the cradle if it's time to go to sleep. I'll sing a Lenin lullaby.

She can have a pretty dream. The protagonist sounds much more mature now, loving and caring for his daughter. In this way, Sierra Leone becomes a coming-of-age story of sorts, with the protagonist transforming from a boy to a father. over the course of the song, displaying Frank's uncanny ability to tell a complex story in just minutes. We also realize that the fertilizer jingle that preceded Sierra Leone, cleverly and sly foreshadowed this pregnancy story, as the word fertilizer sounds a lot like, fertilize her. Channel Orange continues

with Sweet Life, Not Just Money, and Super Rich Kids, a trio of tracks that expound upon the effects of money. On Sweet Life, the song's protagonist meets a love interest born into wealth and lavish Lederah Heights, the quote, Black Beverly Hills, Domesticated Paradise, Palm Trees, and Pools. life whatever feels good whatever takes your mind tonight keeping it surreal

not sugar free my TV ain't HD that's true Frank likens the woman's lifestyle to the blue pill in the film The Matrix singing the water's blue swallow the pill

keeping it surreal whatever you like In the Matrix the protagonist Neo is given a choice between a blue or red pill, swallow the blue pill and return to the surreal world of the Matrix, ignorant to the dark truths of the real world, believing whatever you want to believe. Swallow the red pill,

and the truth of reality is revealed to you. This naive absence of reality and numbness to the outside world caused by wealth is labeled Sweet Life, a concept expounded upon in the song's hook. You've had a landscaper and a housekeeper since you were born. I shine always kept you born.

Sweet Life is followed by the skit, not just money. Again, we hear the sounds of a channel being changed, followed by a woman talking while driving. Contrary to popular belief, the woman here, who also appears on the skit, Be Yourself on Blonde, is not Ocean's mother. The woman's name is Rosie Watson, mother of Frank's good friend Jonathan, who is also a friend of the odd future crew. Rosie became somewhat of a maternal figure for the crew, with Tyler the Creator and others, referring to her as Auntie. Auntie Rose was apparently never short on advice, and the recording on Not Just Money is an actual candid recording of one of Rosie's lectures. In sharp contrast to the extravagance of street life, Rosie gives an alternative view of money,

coming from a perspective of someone who doesn't have a lot. We assume she's talking to her son Jonathan, who she tells, quote, It's not just money, it's happiness. It's the difference between happy, being happy and sad. It's the difference between having a home and living on the streets. Later she says, quote, Right now it's the difference between you being able to go to prom and disappointing a girl. Between Sweet Life and not just money,

we're getting two contrasting perspectives on the effects of money. On Sweet Life, we heard the numbness and cultural aloofness too much money can cause, while not just money expresses the anxiety of not having enough, which seems to manufacture a fantasy that, money and happiness are synonymous. This dichotomy of rich and poor, and the well-being money can have on one's life, calls to mind a Purdue University study that examined the correlation between money and happiness. They found that money does contribute to happiness, but only until a certain income is met, typically around $75,000 a year. This is when most can comfortably

pay their bills and purchase basic necessities without worry or anxiety. According to the same study, higher incomes actually show a decrease in happiness. This is because after people's basic needs are met, many become driven not by survival, but by material gains and social comparisons, leading to a feeling like they never have enough, ultimately lowering their well-being and general satisfaction. Channel Orange continues by revealing this diminished happiness caused by wealth with the album's next track, Super Rich Kids, a song will thoroughly dissect right after the break. Welcome back to Dysect. Before the break, we were discussing the effects of wealth as explored on the song Sweet Life

and the skit, not just money. Channel Orange continues with Super Rich Kids, completing a trio of tracks that tell stories centered around money. Produced by Malay, Super Rich Kids was written the first day Ocean and Malay began work on Channel Orange. The song features thumping, richly voiced piano chords that plummet the downbeats. Frank enters with the song's hook, establishing the protagonist's operative. lifestyle. Too many bottles of this wine we can't pronounce. Too many bowls of that green, no lucky

charms. The maids come around too much. Parents ain't around enough. Too many joy rides in daddy's jaguar. Too many white lies and white lines. Super rich kids with nothing but loose is super rich kids with nothing but fake friends Though officially uncredited, it speculated that super rich kids was inspired by the introduction of Elton John's 1974 hit, Benny and the Jets. Frank begins super rich kids with the now iconic opening line

too many bottles of this wine we can't pronounce. It's an ingenious way to express empty material excess and the disposable nature of inherited wealth. They drink too much expensive wine, But seeing as they can't even pronounce the name, they aren't fully enjoying its quality. Rather, it's chosen simply because it's expensive. Too many bowls of that green, no Lucky Charms, is a clever allusion to smoking weed, while the Lucky Charm's serial reference helps to insinuate the protagonist here as young,

perhaps a teenager. Next comes the lines, The Maids Come Around Too Much, Parents Ain't Around Enough. This couplet begins to reveal the crux of the song, which is the isolation and loneliness of extremely wealthy kids, whose parents are busy working and often not around. A similar lyrical structure is used for the second half of the hook. Frank raps, too many joy rides and daddy's jaguar, too many white lies and white lines,

super rich kids with nothing but loose ends, super rich kids with nothing but fake friends. Here we have allusions to cocaine and joy rides and luxury cars, but the emptiness of it all is revealed as the protagonist admits he has nothing but loose ends and fake friends. The song's first verse finds Ocean singing, Building on the themes established in the song's hook. "...ourish kids with nothing but fake friends.

Start my day up on the roof. There's nothing like this type of view. Clicker at the two. I prefer expensive news. New car, new girl. New ice, new glass. New ice. Good times, babe.

It's good times, yeah. Ocean begins the verse, start my day up on the roof. There's nothing like this type of view. Here we imagine those luxurious rooftop patios with pools and a spectacular view. We might also speculate Frank is speaking metaphorically here, as up on the roof could imply he's high. Ocean continues, point the clicker at the tube. I prefer expensive news. This is a clever setup, as we first believe the protagonist is turning on the TV to watch the news. But with the subsequent lines, we realize he's actually speaking about the reoccurring frequency of his

expensive material goods. He sings, new car, new girl, new ice, new glass, new watch. One of the more brilliant detailed strokes of the song comes with the next line. He sings, New Watch, Good Times, Babe, it's Good Times. Frank piggybacks off of the word watch, saying Good Times to describe his posh life. But Good Times was also the name of a popular television show in the 1970s, which links nicely to the protagonist turning on the television just a few lines back. And before you claim this a reach, let's listen closely to the next line of the song. You're going to hear in the background TV chatter, then someone yelling, Dino Might. Did you hear it?

That's Jimmy Walker, who played JJ on the show Good Times. Dino Might was the character's famous catchphrase, so the nod here on Super Rich Kids is certainly strategic. Good Times was centered around. a black family that lived in the projects of a poor neighborhood in inner city Chicago, creating an interesting juxtaposition with the wealthy protagonist and super rich kids. If you listen closely to the rest of the song, you hear the background TV chatter introduced in the first verse continue throughout the rest of the song. In the context of the underlying loneliness of our affluent young protagonist, it makes me think

of someone keeping the TV running all day for company, mindless noise used to fill the silence of an empty, and in this case, gigantic house. After a repetition of the song's hook, a bridge is performed. Frank sings Real Love, I'm Searching for a Real Love. This is an interpolation of Real Love by Mary J. Blyge, a top 10 hit in 1992. It's likely a coincidence, but just for the record, the cover art for Mary J. Blige's Real Love single features a solid orange background quite solid. similar to Channel Orange's cover art. On super rich kids, the real love interpolation is a plea against

the emptiness of the life being portrayed on the track. Despite the women, cars, drugs, and maids, his parents aren't around, and his friends aren't real. Crippled by the silver spoon he's been fed from birth, he's searching for something authentic in his life. With the song's second verse, we get a guest appearance from Earl Sweatshirt, fellow member of the odd future crew. He delivers a masterpiece of a verse utilizing a complex rhyme scheme delivered with a monotone numbness that perfectly captures the jaded drug persona he's portraying. All right. Close your eyes for what you can imagine.

We are the zanny gnashing, caddy smashing brady assy maddy snasting daddy snasting daddy's jagging use this shit for batting practice, Adam and Annie thrashing. Purchasing crappy grams with afterhand a cash you handed. Panic and patch me up. Papi than Laskid us, toying with raggy hands and Mammy didn't had enough. Brash is fuck, breaching all these aqueducts. Don't believe us, treat us like we can't erupt. Yeah. Earl makes heavy use of assonance throughout his verse.

Assonance occurs when two or more words repeat the same vowel sound, but start with different consonant sounds. Earl centers the verse around the ah sound the vowel A makes. 37 out of the total 81 words in his verse contained that. a sound. This creates an internal rhyme scheme of its own, building on top of the traditional end-of-the-line rhyming it also contains. Let's just listen to the opening few measures again, listening for the assonance created with words like can't imagine, Zanny, Nash, Caddy, smash, and so on.

All right. Close your eyes for what you can't imagine. We are the Zanny Nash and Caddy, assy, maddy-assie, Maddie snasted, daddy's jagging, use this shit for batting practice. It's truly a virtuosic Grasin' Parching Parenthood. It's truly a virtuosic verse, not only from a linguistic perspective,

but it's perfectly on point thematically as well. Like Frank, Earl speaks from the point of view of a super rich kid, describing the drug-filled reckless activities he indulges in. Also, like Frank, toward the end of the verse is where we find

some underlying psychology. He wraps, Panic and Patch Me Up, Pappy Dunlatchkeed us, Toying with Raggy Ann's, and Mammy Dunn had enough. Here Earl describes a dysfunctional family in three concise lines. He refers to himself as a latchkey kid, which is a child who returns from school to an empty home

because their parents are away at work. Toying with Raggy Ann's is a clever way to say his father is busy cheating with other women, and Mamie Dun had enough describes his mother who we assume is going to ask for a divorce. The verse ends, brash as fuck, breaching all these aqueducts, Don't believe us, treat us like we can't erupt. Here, Earl is pointing to his character's emotional state. He acts brash and cocky on the outside, but inside, like an aqueduct building water pressure, he's about to explode emotionally.

His dysfunctional parents are never around. His life is unstable despite all the toys around him. He's miserable. Saying treat us like we can't erupt is an ingenious ending line, as it implies that because of the wealthy life he is born into, people view this kid as lucky, as privileged, therefore assuming his emotional state is fine. If it isn't, we just think he's acting spoiled or ungrateful. But as we've seen throughout the song, the material things around these kids aren't

substitutes for the real relationships they crave, thus leaving them in terrible emotional states, prone to drug use and acting out. As Super Rich Kids continues, Frank returns to complete the story's narrative in a brilliant third verse. Yeah. Frank begins the verse, we end our day up, I never do. But when I'm drunk I act a fool. Frank is back on the roof. By saying he'll jump but never does is a sly implication of suicidal thoughts. Frank continues with one of the most brilliant lines on the entire album. Drunk and standing on the ledge, he asks,

Do they sew wings on tailored suits? This line is an incredible summation of the song's underlying theme, and for me is one of the best lines of the entire album. Wings, of course, refer to angels, and tailored suits implies wealth. The question is empathetic to the perhaps unjust way we generally view kids from rich families. We assume they're lucky, that their situation is privileged, and so the emotional complications that could arise from such a childhood are ignored or unjustly brushed off. It's much easier to empathize with a kid from an unstable home that's also poor, but a rich family can be just

as broken, neglectful, absent, abusive, or toxic as any other family. With the question, do they sew wings on tailored suits? The protagonist is asking if angels also watch over the wealthy, if anyone out there is watching over him, as his so-called friends and family are most certainly not. The verse comes to a dramatic conclusion as our protagonist falls to his death. Talk about, Do there's so wings on tell the suits. I'm on that ledge. She grabs my arm.

She slaps my head. It's good times, yeah. Sleep if so far, slip, and fall. The mark is down like 60 stuff. Frank sings, I'm on the way they should. My silver spoon It's spread me good. Cash.

Frank sings, I'm on that ledge, She grabs my arm, She slaps my head. It's good times. Sleeve rips off. I slip, I fall. It would seem that the recklessness has caught up

with our protagonist as he falls from the rooftop. It's ironic that the sleeve ripped off what we assume is an expensive designer shirt, building on the song's theme that wealth doesn't necessarily guarantee quality. Frank concludes the verse, the market's down like 60 stories, and some don't end the way they should.

My silver spoon has fed me good. A million one, a million cash. Close my eyes and feel the crash. Here, Frank likens the fall to his death with a stock market crash. It's a clever comparison, as stock markets can be extremely profitable when going good,

but equally deadly when things go bad. Super rich kids is a portrayal of things going, South, when someone chokes on the food from their silver spoon, when the lifestyle produced from the wealth leads to emotional instability, recklessness, and in extreme cases, death. Conclusions Dr. Sonia Luther, a professor of psychology at Arizona State University, has been studying kids from affluent households for over 20 years. The results of her studies are staggering, showing that kids from wealthy families are

two and a half times more likely to become dependent on drugs and alcohol than the average population. Anxiety, depression, eating disorders, and self-mutilation are also two to three times higher among affluent youth, and they're also two and a half more times likely to commit random acts of delinquency like stealing or defacing property. According to Luther, parental neglect is just one possible factor that contributes to the maladjustment of this youth group. She believes the biggest influences are society's achievement-centric, individualistic definition of success. And when you start at the quote-unquote top, when the necessity are more than covered and you're living in excess, personal achievements are less about survival

and more about maintaining status, about social comparison, about keeping up the family legacy. Supreme Excellence is the expectation, the minimum, otherwise you're moving backwards. All that pressure, Luther argues, leads to anxiety and depression, which leads to substance abuse and acting out. If you're anything like me, you can hear those stats about wealthy kids, you can hear about the heightened pressure they face and still feel an impulse to roll your eyes about the whole thing. There are more people deserving of our empathy, we might think. But why is that? Clearly, affluence has been proven to put many of these kids at serious statistical risk of substance abuse and mental health issues. Why the impulse to brush it off? I thought about this a lot.

I think the impulse is rooted in the same factors that cause the issues in the first place. It's our perception of wealth and the perceived value. and happiness we assume it brings. We think of the skit just before super rich kids in which a mother scolds her child on the value of money, how she says it's not just money, it's happiness. We can't relate to the problems of spoiled rich kids because they're living in life our culture encourages us all to work towards. If wealthy people aren't happy, the perception of our entire economic system collapses, because it's almost intuitive to equate achievement and well-being with personal gain, with zeros in a bank account, with material status symbols. When we hear about

people with those things having problems, many of us lack empathy as it's contradictory to everything our culture tends to glorify, contradictory to our cultural intuition. At its worst, at its ugliest, we can go so far as to revel in the turmoil of the rich, resentfully thinking they got what they deserve. And so as Earl Sweeter's so brilliantly stated in the opening line of his verse, we close our eyes to what we can't imagine. We write it off. Of course, this only exasperates the problem, as I'd assume many of these maladjusted rich kids feel as if their problems aren't justified because of their wealth, multiplying the pressure and isolation they feel. When researching this episode, I brows the super rich kids' genius page comments thread. I was struck by two comments,

two comments that for me really helped to humanize some of these issues. The first comment read, quote, not to be cocky, but I relate to this song. He is talking about rich kids not being truly cared about. Our parents decided to leave us for things like work and friends. We aren't a priority in their lives. But what they do leave us with is all the unnecessary, necessary advantages in life. They give us money, cars, clothes, somehow girls, they introduce us to other people in the same class. But growing up like this is fucked up for the simple reason that you never feel like anything is ever enough. If you get $100 a day to go out, you spend it and expect $200 the next day because all you got was $100 the first day. And at some point, you start thinking that you as a

person is not good enough for the world. That's why most kids who live this lifestyle end up fucked up with no guidance, on an endless journey to find that unreachable perfection, unquote. When I read this comment, I felt the impulse to judge the plight of a kid getting $100 a day, but suspecting now that impulse is at least in part the result of cultural conditioning, I rejected the impulse and thought more critically. Then I imagine all the people who must also feel that impulse. Then I imagine how hard it must be for a kid like this to express these feelings, knowing that many people will feel that same impulse to roll their eyes.

Finally, I came to truly value this person's honesty despite all that. Nobody chooses their childhood, yet our childhoods largely shape who we are. That's a human condition. By the time we have any real say in who we are, we have to look backwards and attempt to move forward. We evaluate our circumstances, environment, and genetics, and attempt to understand why we act and feel the way we do. The person who left that comment on genius was doing exactly that. Like the kid portrayed on super rich kids, the absence of his parents left him feeling worthless despite being surrounded by gold. It's a reminder to all of us to stop and evaluate our own lives.

What are your motives? What exactly are you chasing? What do you value the most? What are your real priorities? And is your time and attention truly working toward those priorities? Are you pursuing meaningful relationships and experiences? Or are your pursuits driven by money and ego? And are those pursuits distracting you from what you tell yourself you prioritize? These are difficult questions if asked honestly, and your answers may surprise you. I'll leave you today with the second user comment I found striking on that genius webpage. It reads, quote, not trying to sound full of myself, but I am one of the super rich kids, and even though I never have done any drugs besides ADHD medications, because I actually have ADHD, and I rarely drink unless my parents are around,

this song is really accurate. The super rich kids that everyone is either envious of or hates, more often than not have horrible lives. You are not only neglected, but your parents have unreasonably high standards for you, and you must always be perfect, or they'll get upset with you because you could potentially damage their reputation. I began self-harming and considering suicide in the fourth grade, because even though I had every material thing I wanted, I didn't have the attention I deserved from my parents. Keep stuff like this in mind when you're around those super rich kids, because I can guarantee you they have a lot more problems than you would expect, and they are probably not very content with their lives, unquote. So, what do you think?

Do they sew wings on tailored suits? Perhaps it's time we open our eyes to what we can't imagine. I'll talk to you next week. Dysect is written and produced by me. Additional project support by Spotify's Michelle Santucci. Original theme music by Birocratic. 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. On this week's bonus episode, you can hear an analysis of the lost unused verse from super rich kids. I'll also unpack an interesting fan theory of the track. Follow at Dissect Podcast on Twitter and Instagram and follow the official Dissect Spotify user profile for playlist curated by me, as well as collaborative playlist you can contribute to.

You can find that by searching Dissect Pod playlist in Spotify.