Things start off breezy enough, with Harris dialing down his jackhammer house throb for sleek California funk. At first blush, it could be a Daft Punk song, or a Katy Perry song. But then Frank Ocean starts singing, and “Slide” becomes nothing but a Frank Ocean song. His deadpan instantly adds shade and nuance to the dayglo surroundings, suggesting a weariness big pop rarely allows. The effect is magnetic and a little startling, like Jeff Tweedy rasping over a Dr. Dre beat. Frank’s infatuation with all things blurred and melancholy remains, with clarity only coming when it’s too late. Migos’ Quavo and Offset, known for twisting tongues over dank trap, come off like a winning insurance plan as they adapt to this more traditional pop showcase with ease. They can’t match Frank’s subtle radicalism, though. At this point, nobody can. Review by Ryan Dombal
