Frank Ocean's "Pyramids"

*This was originally written for a college application portfolio, and I figured, why not publish it?

Released July 10th, 2012, Frank Ocean’s debut album, channel ORANGE, flips through the television channels of the Black American experience in its rawest and most intimate forms. Combining poetry with modern music production techniques, this album is the epitome of modern storytelling and cemented Ocean’s status as an alternative R&B pioneer upon its release. As a whole, channel ORANGE is a testament to Ocean’s talent as a songwriter, storyteller, and innovator. Individually, each song is a unique slice of life that meets every listener on a personal level, making the work especially poignant. Each transition (or flip of the channel) brings the listener into a new world. 

The world of “Pyramids” started in June 2012 on Tumblr when Ocean released the track as the second single preceding channel ORANGE, following the release of “Thinkin Bout You.” If Homer’s The Odyssey were written in the 21st century (and in the form of a song), it would have been “Pyramids.” The track explores how White American colonialism relegated (and continues to relegate) Black women from their elevated status in African society to their oppressed status within American society, beginning with the Transatlantic Slave Trade. As described in Pitchfork’s review of channel ORANGE, the song “essentially reincarnates one of the most storied female rulers in history as a six-inch-heeled woman of the night.” As its name suggests, “Pyramids” is the sonic climax of Channel Orange. This track is a ten-minute ballad distinctly divided into two equal parts that takes the listener on a journey through time from Ancient Egypt into modern-day Las Vegas. 

The transition to the album’s tenth track, “Pyramids,” from the ninth track, "Crack Rock,” a channel that comments on the addiction crisis within the African-American community, is deceivingly abrupt, but intentional. Crack Rock’s protagonist, referred to by Ocean as “my brother,” suddenly becomes “girl,” introducing Cleopatra. 

The track unfolds with syncopated synth chords over a drum loop comprised of reversed drum hits. The unnamed narrator calls out to the story’s protagonist, Cleopatra, who has been kidnapped. One would think that Ocean is speaking of the Ancient Egyptian Pharaoh, but he intentionally dubs her “My Black Queen, Cleopatra.” This distinction helps to begin to unravel the song’s metaphor. As tension is created by the background vocals urgently repeating the Queen’s name behind the narrator’s calls, the song’s (first) turning point is reached. 

 An ascending and descending brassy EDM-inspired synth line not only captivates the listener, but replicates the shape of a pyramid on a music staff. This may be a coincidence, but could also be an intentional easter egg, a testament to Ocean’s masterful musicianship and storytelling. The transition feels out of place, just like the kidnapped Cleopatra.

These synths metamorphize the atmospheric intro, creating a catchy club track and turning the pyramids into a nightclub. Amidst the cymbals crashing inside the pyramid, the sense of urgency intensifies because Cleopatra is still missing, which is further emphasized with the hypnotic repetition of the first half of the track’s chorus “Oh, oh, oh, oh/Set the cheetahs on the loose/Oh, oh, oh, oh/There's a thief out on the move/Oh, oh, oh, oh/Underneath our legion's view/Oh, oh, oh, oh/They have taken Cleopatra.” The lyrics “Underneath our legion’s view/They have taken Cleopatra” hint at unseen forces at play, an invisible hand reaching through time to alter fate.  

Verse two puts Cleopatra’s transition from Queen to subjugated figure into motion with the lines “The jewel of Africa, jewel/What good is a jewel that ain't still precious?” In referring to Cleopatra as “the jewel of Africa” Ocean draws a parallel between Black women and the continent of Africa itself, rich with culture, history, and material resources. Cleopatra’s worth was conditional. Once she was captured, she was no longer a precious jewel, worthless. 

The third repetition of the first chorus is different, “Our war is over, our queen has met her doom/Oh, no more/She lives no more, a serpent's in her room/Oh, no more/He has killed Cleopatra, Cleopatra” Cleopatra is no longer missing, she has died. Who killed her? Once again, Ocean alludes to the greater American colonialist regime that demoted Black women within its society, shattering their power. 

A pulsating synth bassline fades as Cleopatra travels through time, symbolizing the broader historical narrative of Black female subjugation. This transition is emotional. Ocean embodies the character of a new narrator some 2,000 years into the future. This narrator does not worship Cleopatra, he is her pimp. “Big sun coming strong through the motel blinds/Wake up to your girl/For now, let's call her Cleopatra” The distinction that comes with Cleopatra being referred to as “your girl” is a clear transition from Cleopatra’s previous status, she is a man’s possession. 

The newly established R&B drum pattern grounds us in the 21st century, and completes the transition between the two parts of the song. The second chorus establishes Cleopatra’s demotion to a worker, “She's headed to the pyramid/She's working at the pyramid tonight/Working at the pyramid.” The pyramid that the new narrator refers to is not The Great Pyramid, it is the Luxor Hotel, a hotel in Las Vegas, Nevada that was built to resemble the Egyptian pyramids. 

Now, not only is Cleopatra no longer a queen, but she is working for the narrator. The phrase “Got your girl working for me” not only emphasizes the possession of Cleopatra, but also suggests that she, once a sovereign ruler, is now a servant. The following line, “Hit the strip and my bills paid, that keep my bills paid” solidifies the story’s new setting as “the strip” refers to the infamous road lined with luxury Casinos in Las Vegas. 

In verse two, Ocean changes character for the last time. Now, he is back to worshipping Cleopatra, but not because of her royalty, because of her body. This shift in character reveals the song’s final twist, “But your love ain't free no more, baby/But your love ain't free no more” Cleopatra is a prostitute. This verse completes the thematic cycle that Ocean intended. Once powerful rulers, now reduced to the ultimate form of objectification, a prostitute. Ocean is not suggesting that Black women are prostitutes, he is saying that the aforementioned “invisible hand” has turned the Black female body and reduced her into a hypersexualized shell of a woman. 

The last minute and a half of “Pyramids” features a guitar solo performed by the esteemed John Mayer. This guitar solo brings the listener back into the present, and makes space to digest the journey. 

Despite “Pyramids” being arguably one of the best songs off of Channel Orange, I chose to analyze this track because of its personal significance. Being a young Black American woman, I face the repercussions of the Transatlantic Slave Trade daily. No matter how many times I listen to this song, I will never grow tired of it. While the track’s upbeat nature has always made me feel like dancing, every now and again “Pyramids” will bring me to tears. I believe that this is exactly what Frank Ocean wanted to do, and he executed it perfectly.