Dissect - S3E5 – Pyramids (Part 2) by Frank Ocean

Episode Date: June 19, 2018

We conclude our two part analysis of Frank Ocean’s contemporary masterwork "Pyramids." 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, Kolkushna. Today, we continue our serialized analysis of Channel Orange by Frank Ocean. On our last episode, we dissected the first half of the 10-minute epic pyramids. There we were introduced to Cleopatra, a black queen loosely based on the last ancient Egyptian pharaoh. Her story was told through the eyes of her lover. An unnamed man we suspect was also royalty. Cleopatra was missing and the narrator believed she'd been kidnapped.

Ultimately, he finds her in bed with Samson and the song's second verse. This revelation is followed by Cleopatra's death in the first half's final hook. She's killed by a serpent's bite, a climactic event heightened by Frank's passionate delivery. Immediately following the first half's final hook, we hear the song's middle section, a transportative interlude of hazy sustained chords and arpeggiated synthesizers. Harmonically, this passage begins to shift outside the song's established F minor key signature. The tempo also decreases dramatically, and the overall effect is a loss of time and pulse. This middle section comes to serve as a time-traveling wormhole as the song transitions into its second half.

When Ocean finally begins to sing again, he describes motel rooms, women's underwear, lipstick, and high heels. It immediately becomes clear we've left for the song. our original setting of ancient Egypt and have entered a more contemporary environment. She's headed to the pyramid. She's working at the pyramid. It's interesting to note that when Frank enters again, his voice comes in almost exactly at the halfway point of the song.

Technically, Pyramids has a running length of 9 minutes and 52 seconds, but the song itself ends at the 9.45 mark, with the remaining 7 seconds filled with the last remnants of an echoing synthesizer. The halfway point of 9 minutes and 45 seconds is 4 minutes and 50 seconds, exactly when Ocean enters the song's time-wurping second half. We find Ocean portraying what seems to be a new character. He says, Big Sun coming strong through the motel blinds.

Wake up to your girl. For now, let's call her Cleopatra. A quote-unquote Big Sun implies a new day, and in this case, that day is some 2,000 years into the future on the other side of the world. The narrator is inside a motel room, where we also find a woman named Cleopatra. We should note now that the narrator says,

wake up to your girl, a distinction will keep in the back of our minds for now. The narrator continues by describing Cleopatra getting ready for work, fixing her hair, putting on lipstick and six-inch heels. With the introduction of the second half's hook, a clue is provided to just what line of work are Cleopatra is involved in. She's working at the pyramid tonight. Working at the pyramid. Working at the pyramid tonight.

After losing our sense of time and the song's extended bridge, the hook grounds the second half of pyramids both harmonically and rhythmically. We find ourselves back in the same F minor key signature as the song's first half. Also like the first half, we have a descending chord progression, going from an A-flat major down to a C minor with a G in the bass, and landing on an E-flat. minor. Our tempo now is much slower and the drum pattern is more R&B than it is upbeat dance. This more contemporary musical space helps us set the narrative in the present day. Ocean sings, she's working at the pyramids tonight. It of course calls back to the ancient Egyptian pyramids

reference in the song's first half, though given the setting of a motel, we suspected to refer to something else entirely. At this point in the narrative, we're not fully equipped to accurately analyze the meaning of the song's hook. Clarity will come after the next verse. We'll in which were provided more clues on who our new narrator might be. Working at the pyramid tonight Temping in my convoy Bubbles in my champagne Let it be some jazz playing

Top floor motel suite Twisting my cigars Floor model TV With the VCR got Ruby's in my damn chain Whip ain't got no gas tank But it still got wood grain Got your girl working for me

Hit the strip in my bills pay That keep my pay With the verse's first line, we're finally given direct clarity of who our new narrator is, a pimp. He says, Pimping in my Convo's, convo's being short for Converse shoes. He goes on to describe himself and his lifestyle, noting his champagne, top floor motel suite, blunts, a ruby chain, television, and car. And while he says these things with pride, as if they are descriptions of royalty and high life. When we examine them more carefully, the clever descriptors of these items paint a much

different picture. First, he wears Converse shoes, a pretty inexpensive, commonplace sneaker. He resides in a top floor motel suite, which itself is a kind of oxymoron, as motels are often cheap and sleazy no matter if the room is labeled a suite. The television is a floor model TV, the one used for an in-store display and typically sold to a consumer for cheap. He mentions his ruby chain, which calls back to the precious jewel of Africa line in the song's first half. Given all the other clues about our pimps low-class sleazy lifestyle, we might suspect his ruby necklace is fake. The verse ends, got your girl working for me, hit the strip and my bills paid, that keep my bills paid. These lines provide the revelation that our Cleopatra of the song's second half is a

prostitute working for this pimp. She hits the strip, or works the streets, selling herself to make a living. the pimp says got your girl working for me as if he's talking directly to the narrator of part one. This revelation brings the song's hook into focus, which you'll remember is centered around the repeating line she's working at the pyramid tonight. Working at the pyramid tonight. With the mention of the strip in the second verse, it would seem that the pyramid image here is the Luxor Hotel on the Las Vegas strip, a famous 30-story home hotel that's shaped like the ancient Egyptian pyramids and features Egyptian theme interiors.

Our black Cleopatra character, once a powerful ancient Egyptian goddess, has been reduced to a prostitute walking the streets of the Las Vegas Strip. Working at the pyramid tonight also takes another sly meaning when we think of the pyramid shape and erection makes when covered by bed sheets. This image was portrayed in the Simpson-like cartoon still image that was used for the cover art that accompanied the pyramid single. It features a man laying in a motel bed, his lower half in the the body beneath the bed sheets and three pyramid shapes being formed by his two feet and his erection.

Next to the man is a woman, assumingly our Cleopatra, dressed only in cheetah print underwear, a clever callback to the Cheetah's reference in the song's first half. Outside the motel window, we see buildings in a large black pyramid, which I assume is meant to portray the Las Vegas strip and the large black pyramid-shaped Lugser Hotel. With the revelation of Cleopatra being a prostitute in the present day, it makes us reconsider the final verse on the song song's first half. It was there that the narrator found Cleopatra in bed with another man, Samson. Cleopatra being pimped in part two makes us rethink those circumstances. It could well be she was indeed kidnapped, forced to sell her body for money. Regarding the pimp prostitute relationship

of Pyramid's second half, Ocean told the guardian, quote, I have actual pimps in my family in L.A. It was a fantasy built off that dynamic, but you can only write what you know to a point, unquote. Ocean's elaborate fantasy works itself toward a dramatic conclusion with the song's final verse, which we'll thoroughly dive into right after the break. Welcome back to dissect. Before the break, it was revealed to us that Cleopatra is now a prostitute in the present day, a far cry from a role as Pharaoh in ancient Egypt. With Pyramid's final verse, we get another dramatic plot twist.

As you listen, notice that the narrator has changed, now addressing Cleopatra directly, saying, you instead of her. You showed up after work, I'm bathing your body, touch you in places only I know your wet and warm just like our bath water. Can we make love before you go? Where you say my name makes me feel like I'm that nigger but I'm still unemployed. Say it's big but your love ain't free but your love ain't free The verse begins, you showed up after work, I'm bathing your body, touch you in places only I know.

Right away it's signaled that our narrator has changed. He addresses Cleopatra directly, and the scene is also set in the present tense, happening in real time. They're intimately bathing together, and saying only places I know implies that the two have a shared history. Cleopatra also shows up after work, implying that this intimacy is not work, not an act of prostitution, at least in the mind of the narrator. The narrator then asks, can we make love before you go? With the intimacy of the bathing scene, as well as the narrator's use of the term make love, we suspect he has feelings for Cleopatra, and we might begin wondering if the narrator is somehow connected to the narrator of the song's first half. Ocean continues the verse describing the two

sexual relations, focusing on how the act makes the narrator feel empowered despite being unemployed. He says, The way you say my name makes me feel like I'm that N-word, but I'm still unemployed. You say it's big, but you take it. It would seem Cleopatra is purposely masculating our narrator by calling his name and telling him how large his penis is. Pyramid's dramatic plot twist comes with the last verse's final line. Let's have another listen. But your love ain't free She's working at the pyramid tonight

Ocean sings But your love ain't free no more, baby But your love ain't free no more And it's here that the story being told on pyramid snaps into place Cleopatra and our current narrator Indeed have a history And all signs point to the identity of our narrator

Being the abandoned king from the song's first half With the line Your love ain't free no more It's revealed to us that he's now having to pay Cleopatra for her time and affection. Where he was once a pharaoh, a king, he's now a broke, unemployed John. The your love ain't free no more line also comments on the state of our modern day Cleopatra. Her love isn't free because she's now a hooker charging money for sex. But more importantly, she's not free, meaning imprisoned, imprisoned by a life of prostitution. Once a powerful

black pharaoh and goddess, Cleopatra has tragically been reduced to a vehicle of sexual exploitation in contemporary society. Pyramids ends with a moving guitar solo by John Mayer, a kind of epilogue that allows us listeners to decompress and consider what we just experienced. He doesn't know that he ever had none. He believed in exactly what he was taught in school, that when he was kidnapped by the white man,

he was a savage in the jungle someplace, eating people and throwing spears and with a bone in his nose. And the average American Negro has that concept of the African country. It is not his fault. what has been given to him by the American educational system. He doesn't realize that there were civilizations and cultures on the African continent at a time when the people in Europe were crawling around in the caves, going naked. He doesn't realize that he was living in palaces on the African continent

when the people in Europe were living in caves. He knows nothing about that. He knows nothing about the ancient Egyptian civilization on the African continent. And because he doesn't know this when you mention Africa to him, while he thinks you're talking about a jungle. And I went to Africa in 1959 and didn't see any jungle and didn't see any mud huts until I got back to Harlem in New York City. Conclusions Much of the thematic weight in pyramids is found in the juxtaposition of the song's two halves.

In part one, Cleopatra is a pharaoh of ancient Egypt, but more generally and perhaps more importantly, she's a black queen, a goddess, held in the highest regard in her mother country Africa. Our narrator, a black pharaoh himself and Cleopatra's lover, tragically and desperately attempts to rescue Cleopatra, who he believes has been captured. He imagines her return in a glamorous future that involves a dance party in a luxuriously decorated pyramid. But the reality of the situation proves to be more traumatic, with Cleopatra found in bed with Samson. Our narrator assumes she was cheating, but with the revelation of Cleopatra being a prostitute in the second half, she may have actually been kidnapped. This hellish condition would support Cleopatra's suicide at the end of the song's first half,

which will remember happen by snakebite. Because we know Cleopatra was never kidnapped in real life, we assume its meaning on pyramids to be metaphoric. And given her fate in contemporary society on Part 2, it's hard not to view her kidnapping as metaphor for the estimated 12.5 million African black men and women who are captured, brought to the new world, and sold as slaves. Of course, slavery had devastating effects on the development of the black community in America,

who once freed, faced a new set of lasting challenges in black codes, the convict Lee system, Jim Crow segregation, the war on drugs, and plain old-fashioned racism, just to name a few. Black women in particular faced the dual challenge of being both black and a woman, two groups historically oppressed in the United States. Malcolm X, who was the voice featured in the audio clip moments ago, once said, quote, The most disrespected person in America is the black woman, the most unprotected person in America is the black woman, The most neglected person in America is the black woman."

Since America's inception, women have worked to gain equal footing with men socially and legally, challenges that last to this day. And present day is exactly where we find Cleopatra on Pyramid's second half. While we know only a very small percentage of black women are prostitutes today, we come to understand our second half prostitute Cleopatra as metaphor for the decline of the black woman from African royalty to her current conditions in the U.S. We find Cleopatra in Sin City being pimped by a man, perhaps an allusion to the historic systemic oppression women have faced. And to this point, we realize that Cleopatra is entirely voiceless on pyramids.

Her story is told entirely by the two narrators, both men. By immediately juxtaposing a black woman who is queen of age in Egypt, with a black woman who is now a prostitute in contemporary American society, ocean forces us to consider the thousands of years in between these two periods, and what exactly led to such a tragic decline. The Egyptian black queen represents the fullest potential of the black woman, made possible by a societal structure that incubates and allows for such a position. The black prostitute, on the other hand, represents the lowest potential of the black woman, living in the aftermath of slavery and segregation, oppressed and dominated, their bodies being abused for money. And like Cleopatra, we also find metaphoric messaging in the image of the pyramid.

Once a symbol of power and royalty in ancient Egypt, the black pyramid found in America's in city becomes a capitalistic symbol of sin and oppression. Also, we need to remember the interior of the pyramid as described in the song's first half. It was a majestic dance club, a futuristic euphoria that our male protagonists fantasized about dancing inside with Cleopatra. But when we arrive in the future on the song's second half, the reality is much bleaker. Cleopatra does not go inside the pyramid, but rather works the streets outside, where she seeks another type of pyramid represented by the male erection. Also wrapped in the tragedy of Ocean's Cleopatra is the tragedy of the male protagonist, who in the song's first half was royalty, Cleopatra's co-ruler. On the song's second half,

like Cleopatra, we find our unemployed protagonist lower in the socio-economic food chain. He's still in love with Cleopatra, but because of her position as prostitute, he's sadly forced to pay for their time together. With our male protagonist, we get all the same social and historical implications of Cleopatra's decline, with the added tragedy of a pure love tainted by exploitation and the aftermath of centuries of systemic oppression. In the end, Frank Ocean's Pyramids is a Shakespearean-esque tragedy, showcasing Ocean's subtle but extremely calculated choice of words to narrate a complex story, allowing for multiple interpretations and endless speculation. Admittedly, my final and ultimately subjective analysis today is just one of the myriad ways we can interpret this song.

The underlying genius of the track is that while it's loaded with cryptic imagery and mystery, it also adheres to traditional lyrical structure. It allows a song to be enjoyed passively and actively, pleasing to the casual listener, but with enough thematic meat to keep the most scrutinizing enthusiasts feasting. In this way, Pyramids joins an elite class of pop epics, holding its own aside songs like Radiohead's Paranoid Android, Kanye West Runaway, Queen's Bohemian Rhapsody,

The Beatles A Day in the Life, and others. Remember, Pyramids was released a month prior to Channel Orange, a 10-minute, quote-unquote, single that seemingly no one in the world saw coming. Knowing what we know now some five years and three albums later, we come to see Pyramids as Frank Ocean's artistic flag in the ground, foreshadowing the fearless, forward-looking, genreless artistry that has come to define his career thus far. Within the context of Channel Orange, Pyramids is the album's towering centerpiece, the summit over which the album climbs into its introspective back half. A back half we'll thoroughly dive into.

Next time, I'll Dyset. 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. Follow at Dysect podcast on Twitter and Instagram,

and follow the official Dysect Spotify user profile, for playlists curated by me, as well as collaborative playlist you can contribute to. You can find that by searching Dissect Pod Playlists in Spotify. Okay, thanks everyone. Talk to you next week.