Album Lookback: Dirty Computer by Janelle Monaé

Janelle Monáe dwells in a distinctive stratum, an immediately distinguishable visage—magazine covers, Super Bowl adverts—sans hit singles or a classic album (yet). She shares this unique realm with artists like Lady Gaga and Bruno Mars, esteemed performers who rekindle your parents' faith in modern music yet without omnipresence. Candidly, it's enticing.

Residing at the periphery of superstardom has granted Monáe copious latitude to pursue her creative inclinations, yielding singular recordings: Afrofuturistic sagas of an android enamored with a human, relayed non-sequentially and through collaborations with diverse artists like Of Montreal, Saul Williams, Prince, and Erykah Badu. Nonetheless, Monáe's self-discovery remains elusive. Despite the uniqueness of her projects, the narrative might bewilder the uninitiated. While her storytelling ambitions soar, her music often pays respect to soul and funk legends.

The lingering ache of Prince's absence is amplified by the proactive nature of his vision, which is vibrantly reincarnated in Janelle Monáe's oeuvre. Her creative sanctuary, Wondaland, in Atlanta, mirrors Prince's Paisley Park, fostering a community of kindred artistic spirits under her label. Monáe's most recent album to date, Dirty Computer, embodies Prince's subversively radical pop-funk essence, reimagined for a contemporary power generation, confronting multifaceted oppression.

Simultaneously unveiling a film of the same title (akin to Purple Rain) and crafting music that deftly navigates the apocalyptic political landscape without dampening the festivities (reminiscent of 1999), Monáe's work is a pop-culture cannonball anchored in the present, acknowledging and building upon its historical foundation. In its distinct manner, the album embodies artistry, ambition, determination, vitality, and inspiration.

Contrasting with The ArchAndroid and The Electric Lady, Dirty Computer departs from Monáe's Metropolis narrative, an assemblage of nebulous conceptual suites starring her tuxedo-clad android persona, Cindi Mayweather. Instead, Monáe sings—and frequently raps—as herself, employing lyrics derived from contemporary intersectional feminist discourse. Monáe's newfound lyrical candor fits the current zeitgeist, yet the absence of her prior endeavors' musical and conceptual breadth is felt. Following two extensive psychedelic Afrofuturist hip-hop epics, a 14-track, 45-minute album appears restrained.

Monáe frequently sought Prince's counsel on the Dirty Computer endeavor in the months preceding his demise. While he lacks official co-writing credits, his impact is evident: the reverberation of Let's Go Crazy in the sermon-like introduction to Crazy, Classic Life and the dynamic command of Americans; the austere minimalism of Kiss evoked in the guitar embellishment initiating Screwed and the rhythmic structure of Make Me Feel. However, additional names associated with Dirty Computer narrate an expansive tale.

The titular track commences with the unmistakable harmonies of Brian Wilson and the temporal synthesis wizardry of Jon Brion, representing two epochs of pop connoisseurs who position the album within the American Dream-scape of Southern California—an impeccable sci-fi pop backdrop might attest. Even a Monáe admirer, Stevie Wonder, materializes in the spoken word interlude of Stevie's Dream.

Dirty Computer's collaborators establish connections with the finest contemporary pop: Grimes contributes ambiance to the delectably mild Pynk, cleverly riffing off Aerosmith's Pink in a playful pre-chorus. Kindred soul Pharrell appears in I Got the Juice, a delightful tribute to personal power and secretions, reminiscent of Kelis' Neptunes-produced Milkshake while asserting, "this pussy grab you back." Thundercat joins Wilson on Take a Byte. Additional prominent pop co-writers encompass Taylor Parks, Julia Michaels, Justin Trantor, and Mattman & Robin.

Contrasting the majority of collective assemblages muddling today's pop panorama, the tracks exude a singular, confident, and distinctive vision. Monáe co-composes every song except a few interludes, receiving unwavering support from Wondaland's confidants, the Irvin brothers (Roman GianArthur and Nate Wonder). The album's narrative trajectory—emphasizing queer, black, and feminist empowerment while accommodating more expansive interpretations—parallels the album-length “emotion picture” film that weaves a dystopian sci-fi narrative with video snippets of the album's standout songs. The film's soundtrack includes previously mentioned tracks and Django Jane, highlighting a powerful delivery and incorporating a sample from David Axelrod. The visual elements evoke a blend of classic Public Enemy with gender-fluid costume design reminiscent of the Nation of Islam in the 1960s.

The latest LP revolves around Monáe, who now dons vibrant hues, reveals skin, and sings as herself rather than Cindi Mayweather. Devoted listeners might yearn for the austere detachment of her Afrofuturist conceptualizations and Monáe's unwavering otherworldliness. However, the objective is to catapult Monáe into mainstream consciousness, and in that regard, Dirty Computer triumphs: it emerges as a succulent, genre-defying pop record infused with funk. While the personal has long been political, Monáe titles songs with grandiose terms such as Americans—the closing track, albeit not the album's most persuasive. This revolution, a birthright celebration for all Americans embracing genuine equality, complements a noteworthy mini-movie, and its integrity resonates without the need for visuals.

Dirty Computer represents Monáe's offering to girls, boys, men, women, and non-binary individuals who face ostracization for embracing their authentic selves; to black men and women. It conveys a message of love and hope for those who fear the unknown yet can learn and improve. Possessing The Purple One's audacious, mad-scientist approach, she forges her universe. Incorporating rap, soul, pop, R&B, space-rock, and an unrestrained array of styles, Janelle Monáe transcends boundaries and limitations: a fluid triumph of liberty, furiously defying oppressors.