It was Gia Coppola’s 2014 debut film Palo Alto that first led me to the multifaceted figure of Devonté Hynes.  My 16-year-old-self saw the adaptation of James Franco’s sordid short stories of the same name as the promise of what would one day be a cult-indie-classic. Looking back now I see Franco’s seedy character portrayal and the embroidery of adolescent trauma with much less admiration. Regardless of my changing perception of Palo Alto over the years, it was the films eponymous soundtrack that made a real lasting impression on me.

As a mid-teen, the supernal voice of Dev Hynes as Blood Orange, was the perfect accompaniment to my desire to move to New York and fulfil the life of artistic struggle I believed myself destined for. As an adult I often still fantasize about champagne coast playing as the opening credits of my biopic roll on screen. And yet, as I aged, the dreamlike quality of Blood Orange’s distinctive sound became a subordinate reason for why I loved him so much. 

I admit now that my fascination with the artist truly began upon learning that Blood Orange - the fabled figure of Williamsburg underground bars and Paris concert halls - was in fact, like me, from a market-town in Essex. Before London grime artists became major players on the worlds musical stage, it wasn’t common place for someone from Ilford, Romford or Dagenham to aspire to one day collaborating with the likes of Mariah Carey, Debbie Harry or Solange. Blood Orange’s discography in 2020 is seemingly endless, not only existing across tens of genres but outwardly defying classification altogether. What I find so refreshing about Devonté Hynes is that his background is by no means a comparison point for his success, but rather definitive of, and embodied within, his music. 

It was going on to study at university that I began to separate Blood Orange from the mass of musicians I held in esteem.  Something that not many may be aware of is that Blood Orange exists on a list alongside other legendary names such as Duke Ellington, Vincent Van Gogh and Pharrell Williams - the list in question relating to artists with synesthesia. In a 2014 TED talk Hynes explained how the neurological condition that causes two or more senses to intertwine, affected him. Synesthesia for Blood Orange is the apparition of sound as color.

Every one of Hyne’s creative products are individually, meticulously crafted with complete intention. The color pallets and aesthetics of each music video correspond with the accompanying songs composition. In learning this I came to value his work on a higher plane.This is not to say that artists who do not possess synesthesia are any less artistically gifted, but Blood Orange became the first example I ever saw of art that combined the sensory to create something aesthetically whole. 

From the universal angst of my mid-teens to the confusion of my early twenties I still struggle with finding my footing, having a single focus or battling an inability to concentrate for long enough on one thing. I see my indecision manifest itself in the way I read 6 or 7 books at one time, but Blood Orange inspires me to indulge in whatever mood I’m in, at any given moment. I see his work as small samples of life, where he’s lingered on a particular feeling or an aesthetic, and translated it into his own menagerie of samples that create a complete picture. It would be impossible to collate every reason why Blood Orange is a treasure in the midst of a generation of endlessly emerging talent, however, a comment I happened across while scrolling through his Instagram sums up the sentiment well: it’s ‘interesting seeing people whose souls have clearly been with music for many bodies.’