"Yoga" was an ostensibly minor part of the
Janelle Monae discography by the arrival of
Dirty Computer. Three years old and outshined by another
Wondaland release,
Jidenna's "Classic Man," it nevertheless became
Monae's first single to hit the Billboard Hot 100. That
Monae hadn't previously hit the chart as a headliner was further evidence of a flawed industry, given that they and primary collaborators
Nate Wonder and
Chuck Lightning had been making songs with pop appeal for nearly a decade. "Yoga" did show that
Monae was more open to messing with contemporary trends. Moreover, the song's humanized, sexually uninhibited, and anti-authoritarian qualities -- they were earthbound, celebrating their body, asserting "You cannot police me" -- also indicated the course they have taken with their third album. Oddly enough, "Make Me Feel," the one
Dirty Computer track on which
Monae employs a wholly pop songwriting team including
Julia Michaels,
Justin Tranter, and
Mattman & Robin, is the funkiest and friskiest number here, clearly influenced by the late (and uncredited)
Prince.
Monae and their trusty
Wondaland partners, the album's dominant creative force, colorfully twist and flip new wave-leaning pop with booming bass drums and rattling percussion. They transmit powerful and defiant jubilance in response to "wack ass fuckboys everywhere (from the traphouse to the White House) who make the lives of little brown girls so damn hard," among dozens of other inspirations
Monae acknowledges in the essential liner notes. Almost every track is densely packed with quotables delivered in approaches that shift from easygoing elegance to hard-fought, triumphant conviction. The latter approach yields the album's apex, "Django Jane," in which
Monae raps throughout with inhuman precision, threatening a pussy riot, declaring "We ain't hidden no more," and uplifting the "highly melanated" while dropping some of the set's few sci-fi allusions, "Made a fandroid outta yo' girlfriend" among them. Not to be lost in all the power moves are indirect and direct references to a romantic relationship -- another form of dissent -- referenced and explored throughout, from the glowing "Crazy, Classic, Life" through the fiery "So Afraid," the only moment of emotional fragility. While this is easily the most loaded
Monae album in terms of guests, with
Brian Wilson,
Stevie Wonder, and
Grimes among the contributors, there's no doubt that it's a
Wondaland product. It demonstrates that artful resistance and pop music are not mutually exclusive. ~ Andy Kellman