It’s easy to forget that back in 2016, the musical landscape felt like it was shifting under our feet. We were caught between the glossy pop of the early 2010s and a new, fragmented era of "playlist music." Then came Freetown Sound, the third studio album by Devonté Hynes under his Blood Orange moniker. It wasn’t just an album. Honestly, it felt more like a physical space—a humid, crowded, yet strangely lonely room where 80s synth-pop, jazz, and spoken word poetry all crashed into each other.
People still talk about this record. Why? Because Dev Hynes didn't just write songs; he curated a sonic documentary of what it felt like to be Black, queer, and artistically displaced in a city like New York.
He named it after Freetown, Sierra Leone. That's where his father was born. That simple fact acts as the backbone for the entire seventy-minute experience. It’s a long record. Some might say too long, but if you cut a single minute, you’d lose the texture that makes it feel human. It’s messy. It’s brilliant. It’s exactly what happens when an artist stops caring about radio play and starts caring about legacy.
The Architecture of Freetown Sound Blood Orange and the 80s Obsession
Most people categorize Blood Orange as "indie R&B." That’s a bit of a cop-out. If you really listen to the production on Freetown Sound, you’ll hear the ghost of Prince, the rhythmic complexity of Nile Rodgers, and the atmospheric wash of Arthur Russell. Hynes has this way of making a drum machine sound like it’s crying.
Take a track like "Augustine." It’s basically a masterclass in layering. You’ve got these crystalline piano chords competing with a slap-bass line that feels like it walked off a 1984 Janet Jackson session. But the lyrics? They’re heavy. He’s talking about Saint Augustine; he’s talking about Trayvon Martin. He’s bridging the gap between ancient theology and modern tragedy.
It works because Hynes is a polymath. He’s a classically trained cellist who grew up in the UK punk scene before moving to New York to reinvent himself. That "outsider" perspective is baked into every synth pad. You can tell he spent hours—maybe days—just getting the reverb on the saxophone right. It sounds like it’s being played in an empty subway station at 3 AM.
The guest list on this album is also wild. He didn't just grab the biggest names he could find. He picked voices that served the narrative. Empress Of, Nelly Furtado, Debbie Harry, Carly Rae Jepsen. It’s a eclectic mix. When Debbie Harry shows up on "E.V.P.," she’s not there for a "feature" in the traditional sense. She’s there as a symbol of the New York that Hynes is trying to conjure—the gritty, artistic playground of the late 70s and early 80s that is slowly being priced out of existence.
Why the Sampling on Freetown Sound Matters
Sampling is often used as a shortcut. In the case of Freetown Sound, however, it's used as a witness.
Hynes uses snippets of Ta-Nehisi Coates, Ashlee Haze, and Marlon Riggs. This isn't background noise. When you hear Ashlee Haze reciting her poem "For Colored Girls Who Have Considered Politics" on the opening track "By Ourselves," it sets the stage. It tells you that this isn't just about melody. It’s about identity. It’s about the specific struggle of being a woman of color.
I remember reading an interview where Hynes mentioned that the album was intended to be "played as a continuous piece." That makes sense. The transitions are seamless. You’ll be nodding your head to a funky bassline, and then suddenly, the music drops out, and you’re listening to a woman talk about her experiences with street harassment. It’s jarring. It’s meant to be.
The Influence of Ashlee Haze and Spoken Word
The inclusion of Haze was a turning point for the record’s reception. Her performance is so visceral that it almost overshadows the music that follows. But Hynes is smart. He knows when to step back. He knows that his voice isn't the only one that needs to be heard.
- Contextual Depth: The samples provide a historical and social map.
- Emotional Anchors: They give the listener a "break" from the dense instrumentation while hitting harder emotionally.
- Sonic Variety: The shift from studio-quality vocals to lo-fi field recordings keeps the ear engaged.
Comparing Cupid Deluxe to Freetown Sound
You can't talk about this album without mentioning its predecessor, Cupid Deluxe. That album was the breakout. It was sexy, sleek, and had "Champlakne Coast," which remains one of the best songs of the last decade.
But Cupid Deluxe was a collection of songs. Freetown Sound is an environment.
While Cupid Deluxe dealt with heartbreak and city life, Freetown Sound is much more political. It’s inward-looking. It’s Hynes trying to figure out where he fits in the lineage of his family and his culture. If Cupid Deluxe is a night out at a rooftop bar, Freetown Sound is the walk home the next morning when the sun is coming up and you’re forced to think about all the things you’ve been avoiding.
The Technical Brilliance of Dev Hynes
Technically speaking, the album is a feat of home recording and high-end engineering. Hynes is notorious for doing a lot of the work himself. He plays almost everything. The guitars are often clean, slightly chorused, and syncopated. It’s a very specific sound. It’s the sound of the "New York Downtown" scene, reimagined for a digital age.
Wait. Let’s look at the percussion. It’s never just a standard 4/4 beat. There are always these little shakers, woodblocks, and electronic blips that sit just off-center. It creates this feeling of "swing" that is hard to replicate. It’s what gives the music its heartbeat.
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Honestly, the album shouldn’t work. It’s too diverse. It jumps from "Best to You" (a shimmering pop gem with Empress Of) to "With Him" (a somber, piano-driven interlude) without warning. But because Hynes' aesthetic is so strong—that hazy, purple-hued, late-night vibe—it all stays glued together.
The Role of Collaboration
Collaboration is Hynes’ superpower. He has this uncanny ability to take a pop star like Carly Rae Jepsen and make her sound like a cult-indie icon. On "Better Than Me," her voice is filtered and distant, blending perfectly with Hynes’ own breathy delivery. He treats voices like instruments. They are textures to be manipulated.
Misconceptions About the "Blood Orange" Sound
A lot of critics at the time tried to lump this into "PBR&B" or "Alternative R&B" alongside artists like Frank Ocean or Miguel. That’s a mistake. While they share some DNA, Hynes is much more interested in the avant-garde. He’s more influenced by Philip Glass than he is by R. Kelly.
Some people found the album "too long" or "unfocused." I’d argue that the lack of focus is the point. Life isn't focused. Especially not life in a city where you’re constantly bombarded by different cultures, sounds, and stressors. The album reflects that chaos. It’s a collage.
The Lasting Legacy of the Record
It’s been years since it dropped, and yet, you still hear its influence everywhere. You hear it in the way bedroom pop artists use lo-fi textures. You hear it in the way mainstream R&B has become more experimental with song structures.
Freetown Sound Blood Orange wasn't just a win for Dev Hynes; it was a win for independent artistry. It proved that you could make a deeply personal, political, and complex album that still resonated with a wide audience. It didn't need a massive radio hit to be successful. It just needed to be honest.
If you’re coming to this album for the first time, don't try to "get it" all at once. It’s not a background record. It’s something you have to sit with. You have to let the layers peel back over multiple listens.
How to Actually Experience Freetown Sound
To really understand what Hynes was doing, you should probably do more than just stream it on your phone speakers.
- Listen with headphones. The stereo field is incredibly wide. There are sounds panned all the way to the left and right that you’ll miss otherwise.
- Read the lyrics while you listen. Especially the spoken word parts. Understand the context of the people he’s quoting.
- Watch the music videos. Hynes is a visual artist as well. His choreography and aesthetic choices for "Augustine" and "Best to You" add another layer of meaning to the music.
Moving Forward With the Music
If you've spent time with this album and it clicked for you, the next step isn't just to find more "similar sounding" music. It’s to look into the inspirations Hynes himself cites. Dive into the discography of Arthur Russell—specifically World of Echo. Check out the 80s output of Grace Jones.
Understanding where Hynes came from helps you understand where he went with this record. It’s a bridge between the past and the future.
The real value of an album like this is that it encourages you to be okay with your own contradictions. You can be a pop fan and a jazz fan. You can be obsessed with the past and worried about the future. You can be a person who feels out of place and still find a way to create a home in your art. That’s what Dev Hynes did. He built a Freetown in the middle of Manhattan.
Practical Steps for New Listeners
Start by focusing on the "trinity" of the album: "Augustine," "Best to You," and "E.V.P." These songs represent the different poles of the record—the political, the melodic, and the experimental. Once those are stuck in your head, let the rest of the album fill in the gaps.
Don't skip the interludes. They aren't filler. They are the glue. If you treat them like "songs you have to get through," you’re missing the narrative arc. Treat the album like a film. You wouldn't skip the quiet scenes in a movie just to get to the action, right? Same logic applies here.
Pay attention to the basslines. Hynes is an underrated bassist. His lines are often what carry the melody while the synths provide the atmosphere. If you’re a musician, try to tab out "Juicy 1-4." It’s a lesson in restraint and pocket.
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Ultimately, this record is a reminder that the best art usually comes from a place of specific, personal truth. By being so specific about his own life and his own heritage, Dev Hynes created something that felt universal. That is the magic of the Blood Orange project. It’s not just sound; it’s a feeling of finally being seen.