Album Review: Janelle Monáe Is Finally, Fully, Filthily Herself on "Dirty Computer"

Janelle Monáe shows up and comes out on Dirty Computer, a good-time party album for our bad times.

When Janelle Monáe released "Q.U.E.E.N." five years ago—on 2013’s best album, The Electric Lady—speculation about her sexuality couldn’t be quieted: Did she mean to say "Q.U.E.E.R"?

(Spoiler alert: She secretly did.)

Over her first three releases, Monáe wove an intricate narrative web about a future dystopian society where androids—sorry, archandroids—are discriminated against for their romantic persuasions. And on The Electric Lady’s tear-jerking climax, "Victory", her electronic avatar, Cindi Mayweather, had to find "glory in the little things," with actual victory out of reach. (It would be another two years before this happened. It was shortly followed, however, by this.)

As the cover teased, the conclusion ("Suites VI and VII") to Cindi’s rebellion was still to come.

But with Monáe’s on-brand, off-narrative record Dirty Computer, Cindi Mayweather cedes the spotlight to 'Jane', aka just Janelle, who is now truly herself, and newly out as pansexual. ("A free-ass motherf***er," as she puts it. Her mentor, Prince, would be proud.)

Monáe is no longer hiding behind a character, and the world she’s describing is very much the one we’re living in (though, Dirty Computer’s accompanying "emotion picture", starring Monáe and Tessa Thompson, is a Handmaid’s Tale meets Logan’s Run pastiche; girl loves drama). It’s a powerful statement, essential for this enraging cultural moment. Yet, the music remains fun, and lustily hypercoloured, designed to be played loudly and publicly.

It opens with the cool, airy pop songs "Crazy, Classic, Life", "Take a Byte", and "Screwed", which show Janelle sharing her strategy for coping with our bad times: "You f***ed the world up now/ we'll f*** it all back down." Despite the menace being alluded to, Monáe’s breathy vocals coast with carefree abandon, building to the grinding, cheerfully boastful "Django Jane", in which she reclaims the Oscars for Moonlight and namechecks Viola Davis, only to summon an actual viola. Monáe, even when not a futuristic android, has apparently supernatural musical gifts.

Of course, nothing compares to "Make Me Feel", the commanding, polyamorous anthem that is credited in part to Prince, who you can hear in spirit in Monáe’s shimmying electric guitar and filthy, hilarious lyrics. (The video, which melds "San Junipero" with "St. Vincent", is equally infectious.) As a centrepiece and mission statement, it mows down the tunes on either side, including "PYNK", a bit of bubblegum about vaginas, and lacklustre Pharrell joint "I Got the Juice".

Eventually, the party dies down, and Monáe gifts us with "I Like That", a doo-wop-via-ATL ballad sung to herself (key lyric: "oh me, oh me, oh me, oh my") with a spoken-word anecdote from her teenage days, which feels truly unique for her. It's followed by "So Afraid", Dirty Computer’s own, sensitive version of "Victory". These moments of vulnerability herald the raucous closer "Americans", which twists the organ of "Let’s Go Crazy" into a comment on racial inequality, feminism and pay parity.

Dirty Computer ultimately sees Janelle Monáe echoing the political commentary of Blood Orange and the freak of the Purple One. And to think she only used to dress in black and white.

As a Monáe completist, I’m a little disappointed she’s declined to wrap up Cindi’s saga for us. (This must be how Divergent fans feel. I mean, if there were any.) But maybe Janelle’s self-actualisation is the resolution to Cindi Mayweather’s struggle. In that case: victory.

4.5/5

Dirty Computer is now available.

Photo: Atlantic