My reasons for hating critiquing Frank Ocean’s visual album Endless are the same reasons I love and respect it. I was just beginning to sink my teeth into Endless and all its mellow splendor when Ocean dropped Blonde (the highly anticipated album previously titled Boys Don’t Cry) a day later. I probably don’t have to tell you that it’s been difficult to unpack these two projects—layers upon layers of vague but relatable sentences, confused metaphors, and raw emotion unfold to reveal some of Ocean’s most eargasmic sounds yet. Both albums are exclusively available through Apple Music/iTunes, and unfortunately there’s no standard track-by-track audio for Endless.

After the drop, Ocean penned a genuine message to fans on his Tumblr page: “I HAD THE TIME OF MY LIFE MAKING ALL OF THIS. THANK YOU ALL. ESPECIALLY THOSE OF YOU WHO NEVER LET ME FORGET I HAD TO FINISH. WHICH IS BASICALLY EVERY ONE OF YA’LL. HAHA. LOVE YOU.”

At first listen, Endless doesn’t seem to reach the height of what I was expecting from Frank Ocean; I initially mistook the album for pleasant, celestial background music. However, after obsessing over Blonde for a few days, I returned to the movie and gave it another chance. Reading the lyrics and comments on Genius while listening helped me grow to love an overwhelming majority of the visual album—sans the visuals. Unlike Beyonce’s movie-album Lemonade, which is essentially a series of music videos that tell a story, Endless is quite abstract, and painfully—perhaps intentionally—boring to watch. Ocean wears what appears to be a holiday sweater embellished with Playboy Bunny logos while he does nearly 45 minutes of staircase carpentry.

The introductory track samples an unreleased song by Wolfgang Tillmans, “Device Control,” featuring a German-accented voice explaining, “With this Apple appliance you can capture live videos.” It then leads into a stunning five-minute cover of “At Your Best (You Are Love),” written by the Isley Brothers and made popular by fallen R&B legend Aaliyah. Ocean croons in the highest of falsettos and urges his subject to “let him know,” then drops into an equally gorgeous low register. The song feels like the too-sweet climax of a Disney prince or princess’ wet dream.

Some of these sounds had me wondering if he’d simply decided to make beautiful ballads. But in true Frank Ocean fashion, there’s nothing conventional about either album; the project includes several odd arrangements, peculiarly placed instrumentals, and segments of nothing but white noise. Ocean addresses sexuality and identity, the soars and dips of intense romance, family influences, and his feelings about fame. Throughout both albums there are also handfuls of super-short interludes. And OH, THE INTERLUDES. My favorite is “Comme des Garçons” off Endless, which is French for "Like Boys."

To listen to the highlights off the visual album you’ll just need to do your Googles, find the timestamps of your favorites (for instance, “Wither,” an intimate love ballad with wordplay meaning “with her,” begins at 12:56), and drag the playhead to the precise spot. However, since there’s no clear break between songs, there’s no point in arguing over where one song starts and the next begins. It gets especially hairy towards the album’s end with tracks “Rushes” and “Rushes To.”

Sonically speaking, both albums are a stoner’s paradise (duh). On “Deathwish ASR” Ocean’s vocals drift in and out over heavy bass. “Rushes” literally sounds like a prayer and is one of four songs (including “Alabama,” “Wither,” and “Humblots”) that features stunning and soulful backing vocals by Jasmine Sullivan. I’m not sure how Ocean is speaking directly to my soul with these songs, but he is. High and full vocals going on blast, “Rushes To” is a song I’d love to hear Ocean sing live when he decides to go on tour (God willing).

Frank is most definitely trolling us with the Endless album experience, which is intentionally ambiguous. For instance, take the title of his second new album Blonde: Whether it’s spelled “blonde” or “blond” will forever be up for debate. Apparently—fittingly—Ocean doesn’t want to choose. The album artwork reads “Blond” while the title in Apple Music has an added ‘e.’ Perhaps the dual spelling is an indicator of Ocean’s bisexuality, since the ‘blond’ is a masculine spelling, while the added ‘e’ is feminine. When I first heard the title, though, my first thought went to a lyric from “Crack Rock” off Channel Orange when he sings, “Used to date a blond(e), you used to hit it raw.”

This duality echoes throughout the new album, further complicating my understanding. Despite this, Blonde is significantly more conventional and straightforward than Endless—I mean, he’s giving us navigable track listings and everything. The more official project of the two, Blonde credits David Bowie, Beyoncé, Tyler, the Creator, Kendrick Lamar, James Blake, Pharrel, and a verse from Andre 3000, to name just a few.

On “Pink + White” Beyoncé “oohs” and “ahhs,” bringing a certain steaminess to the song. The few words she actually utters are “take it easy.” Only Frank Ocean could garner such a notable backup vocalist as Beyoncé.

A Blonde interlude called “Be Yourself” features a mom reminding college-aged Ocean to stay away from alcohol, marijuana, and cocaine. “When people become weed heads they become sluggish, lazy, stupid, and unconcerned—that’s all marijuana does to you,” she warns. It’s an intro to “Solo,” a song about self-love and enjoying independence, but also one where Ocean repeatedly adds that he needs to smoke heavily since he’s so low.

While it’s a gorgeous cinematic exhibition, the glittery, sensual music video for “Nikes” is not at all helpful in deciphering more meaning from the song. Visuals of a talking chihuahua and a baby’s eye make the song’s meaning all the more confusing. The video also includes shots of A$AP Rocky, “baddest bitch” Trina, and a chilling flash of Trayvon Martin’s photograph as a helium-voiced Ocean sings, “RIP Trayvon, that nigga look just like me.”

On my favorite new track, “Futura Free,” Ocean seems to speak directly to his family, fans, and followers: “Play these songs, it's therapy momma, they paying me momma/I should be paying them/I should be paying y'all honest to God/I'm just a guy I'm not a god/Sometimes I feel like I'm a god but I'm not a god.”

If there’s one thing that’s consistent about Ocean’s sound, it’s that he creates sounds you could easily fall in love or get pregnant to, so please use protection, folks. But trust me, once you get past your bitterness over these first-world Apple Music problems, you’ll probably arrive where I’m at: just grateful as fuck that a nigga actually (finally) came through with some gold—even if unloading it is an emotionally tumultuous and ongoing project. Godspeed.