TRICKY STEWART: I signed Frank on the spot. Right around 2009. As soon as I heard Frank’s music I loved it. I knew instantly that I never wanted anybody to sing a Frank Ocean song. I wanted him to be an artist. I only looked at him as an artist. There was a connection between the words and his voice that I wasn’t prepared to break up.

So that was my conversation with him from the beginning: “I’ll get in the studio with you but not as a writer. If you’ll be my artist, then I’m all in.” The conversation happened in a doorway. It was really quick but I remember his vibe. He was coming in and I was moving really fast. I was doing three sessions that day, one was with Mariah Carey. I told him I didn’t want to hear anyone else sing his songs. I asked him, “Would you be my artist?” He was like, “Alright, cool.”

At that point, this is Lonny Breaux. That was his real name at the time. I remember when he changed his name to Frank Ocean. He came over my house, like, “I changed my name to Frank Ocean. And because I know you’re going to try and talk me out of it, here are my legal papers changing my name to Christopher Francis Ocean.” When he named himself Frank Ocean, he became Frank Ocean living inside of Lonny Breaux’s body. But to me he was always the same person and he never really wavered. I didn’t see something change, I just saw it get better and better.

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I thought he was a genius. His stories were Stevie Wonder-esque, they were Prince-esque, and they were Michael-esque. Some of the best storytelling, and the perspective, and the history of music that I had the utmost respect for. Even as a young person, I felt that Frank would be sitting next to the greats, when it was all said and done.

I saw him as a singer that was a child of hip-hop and rock. He could do so many things. He raps, he sings, and he can sing for real. There’s a little bit of R&B in everybody, but I think the R&B label [for him] came because of the voice and because when he sang, people had to put things in boxes. I think it’s fine that people wanted to categorize him as R&B. I don’t think there’s anything wrong with it. You just have to consider what R&B is in its totality — with artists like Prince, Stevie, Michael, and Smokey Robinson. Frank’s sense of song took us to the point that wasn’t like the R&B that was current, but R&B at its best. So in that case, yes, he was R&B.

He always had a great confidence in what he was capable of. But I think every great songwriter gets nervous before they write their next song. There’s just nerves to that. You know the game that you’re playing. With that being said, I think he has a huge advantage over most writers because he’s not afraid to show vulnerability in his writing. There’s a big difference with people who want to let you know who they really are versus how they really want to be seen.

Frank is legendary in Los Angeles with engineers and people who say, “He recorded one word three or four hundred times.” He knows how he wants things. It’s not about it being perfect, it’s about it being perfect to him. He’s not trying to hit every note perfectly but he knows how he wants you to feel.