The singer’s android alter ego is back in her North American tour. And she is part of a rich tradition of sci-fi in African-American pop, says Greg Kot.
Androids have a so-so reputation when it comes to partying, as movies like The Terminator and Blade Runner have taught us. They seem a little too uptight, these half-human, half-robot creations. But Janelle Monae would argue otherwise. In her albums, she plays an android on a serious mission – to liberate the planet, no less – but with a playful streak. Monae’s android wants to shake and shimmy out of her psychic shackles.
The singer is in the midst of one of the year’s most-acclaimed North American tours, a high-energy string of sold-out theatre dates that dances a century of music into the future. Prince, who made a rare cameo appearance on Monae’s latest album, Electric Lady, has been one of her most vocal fans (even attending a recent show in Minneapolis). Tastemakers such as Erykah Badu, Big Boi and Questlove have been championing her artistry.
In the first three releases of her career − Metropolis (2007), The ArchAndroid (2010) and Electric Lady – Monae can’t be contained by genre or generation. She blends rock, soul, funk, cabaret, hip-hop, jazz and traces of classical music like a child of the iPod-on-shuffle era. The recent single Dance Apocalyptic packs girl-group harmonies, new-wave rock and ukulele twang into an ebullient anthem.
Monae is working in a long, if not always well-understood tradition in African-American music. To get what Janelle/Cindi is all about, it’s best to start with the late jazz innovator Sun Ra. In his 1974 movie Space is the Place, Ra plays an inter-galactic oracle with gold headdress and cape. It’s “after the end of the world,” with the visionary composer preaching the gospel of space-age emancipation.(FraM Martins/David Sanchez).
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