Forget the entire Frank Ocean/Chipotle beef for a second. Stop worrying about the strange disconnect between telling one major business to "F*** off" and warmly accepting the invitation of another. I know it's hard to extricate all that noise from this track, but once you do you'll be able to appreciate "Hero" for what it really is: another great addition to what is rapidly becoming a vaunted songbook.
Almost right away "Hero" distinguishes itself from much of Ocean's work by introducing a subdued, scratchy lead guitar figure from the Clash's Mick Jones. Had Jones' name not been slathered all over the release, guessing a member of the Bar-Kays or Booker T. & the MGs would've been a safe bet. Not to mention the clattering piano keys and thick as syrup bass notes from Paul Simonon. Hearing it all you expect a gravel-throated singer from the backwaters of the South to step forward. That's not what happens. Instead Ocean's voice comes gliding through, pledging his loyalty to America while admitting "I love some queen." From there he only humblebrags more over Diplo's restrained drum-machine skitters. He plays concerts in the mud, paints subjects in the buff, and can dunk. He's a "hero" he croons in the most genteel way imaginable. And such heroism calls for something more, in this case an explosive solo from Jones and the West Los Angeles Children's Choir singing Ocean's praises far and wide. In that ascendant moment, he's no longer some "dude" battling a burrito franchise, he's the caped crusader of R&B. Are we better off without him? Absolutely not.
Just reading the artist credit for "97.92" makes me want to hurl a television through my bedroom window. I want to grab a baseball bat and start swinging wildly like Juan Marichal. Flatbush Zombies are the masterminds behind diabolically unhinged tracks in the vein of "Thug Waffle", "Bath Salt", and "Drug Parade". Trash Talk now float in the Odd Future universe and offer some of the more ear-splitting punk music you'll hear. How could this be anything other than the proverbial train wreck everyone is drawn to?
I don't have an answer to the question, other than to say "97.92" isn't that disaster-piece. Restrained isn't the word I'd use either, but this is closer to Pete Rock territory than the dark realm of RZA. Albeit a Pete Rock who hasn't been sleeping well. Buried in the claustrophobic boom-bap of "97. 92" are backwards snaking guitars and brief clips of what sounds like piano drowning in a vat of crude oil. On their best-behavior, there remains a bad acid-trip quality to Flatbush Zombies' performance. Zombie Juice can't seem to keep his head still while chattering through his scatterbrained verse. Meanwhile, Meechy struggles for lucid thought, preferring to "keep it cryptic" and "say what you want", which presents a terrific parallel to the track at large. Flatbush and Trash Talk could've done anything and they chose to dial it down. Which makes "97.92" all the more unnerving.
"97.92" is the second collaboration to drop from Converse's well-cultivated CONS EP Vol. 1, following the Ratking/Black Dice split "Gauchos". The EP drops early March and you can download "97.92" here.
