ORIGINAL RELEASE DATE: MAY 18TH 2010

The world of popular music in 2011 is a pretty fickle place and the ones at the top so rarely have anything original or unique to say. In some ways it’s always been like this, albeit less extreme; the general decline of popular culture is not only rapid, it’s sad, and you can’t sell millions of records without being safe, easily-catagorised and kicking out a catchy chorus or two. So what happens to the more experimental pop chameleons? The ones writing, producing and performing all their own material? These are so often left by the wayside. Róisín Murphy and Robyn release fantastic pop music yet sell barely any records and the same can now be said for Janelle Monáe.


In the year since The ArchAndroid was released, Monáe has gone on to become arguably the most promising contemporary female American pop singer. Released to nearly unanimous critical acclaim across the board, The ArchAndroid topped many 2010 end-of-year polls and is just about as brilliant as commercially viable pop music gets. The album is divided into Suites II and III, spread over eighteen tracks and runs for almost seventy minutes. This is not uncommon of albums in this genre, yet it’s the sheer diversity of this record that so dazzles upon first listen. Monáe is particularly adept in R&B and a new Prince-age sort of funk. This is where her primary talent lies but The ArchAndroid continually pushes the boundaries, flirting along the edges of rap, disco and a kind of post-apocalyptic, widescreen sci-fi sonic landscape.

The first three songs seamlessly weave into a ten minute mini-epic that gives the album a prompt racing heartbeat. The rhythm of the sublimely catchy Dance Or Die gives way to the bop-bop of Faster, before the funky and menacing pursuit of Locked Inside. Monáe surfs through this trio with a skill that will initially befuddle; repeated listens only reveal their depth. Lead single Tightrope remains perhaps the strongest link on the album as a whole with its absurdly tight and restrained verses, not a single syllable out of place, and yet contrasted by its astoundingly harmonious chorus, now surely a modern day classic to the old-school throwback she envisages. Yet one could argue that its successor, Cold War, is a more memorable reminder of what this album represents. Monáe’s stentorian refusal to conform is the thing that equally drives and humbles her in this, surely the heart-on-sleeve song of last year.

Many tracks here feel like brief interludes as Monáe seems more concerned with ascribing an overall direction to her music rather than concentrating on a hit-after-hit approach. The cinematic sleek of Sir Greendown and the rumble tumble of Come Alive (War Of The Roses) are bestowed with strong compositions and are perhaps so memorable after just one listen because they don’t drag on. The rock balladeering of Mushrooms & Roses rounds off the first suite with bombastic aplomb. The slight shift in style on Suite III allows Monáe more space to explore ideas and sounds such as on the panoramic Neon Valley Street. By the time Wondaland comes around, you feel Monáe is simply playing games; knocking out such a space oddity this late in the life cycle of an album is virtually unheard of. 57821 feels like a sort of retro-pastiche Simon & Garfunkel number; the classic lullably of The Boxer is in here somewhere. BaBopByeYa is the resounding finale to an album that questions more where Monáe will go from here on. It’s possibly her strongest vocal performance on the whole album and she saves it for those listeners still patient enough to have endured until the very end.

The most beautiful thing about The ArchAndroid and writing about it here, now, is that it feels even more fantastic a year after it was released. Since its sales haven’t matched up to the critical acclaim, this is one of the few albums around which a small cult will form in the coming years. Make no mistake, Janelle Monáe will become a niche artist with subsequent releases. What’s interesting is how many different backgrounds Monáe is appealing to. Her originality is endearing because, despite her obvious influences, she presents to the observer a package that is as concerned with a cohesive idea/image as the sound she’s developing. Perhaps her sound will expand further and she will retreat into more experimental territory. Or maybe the world will wake up and realise what it missed out on. One almost hopes it doesn’t. It feels more special this way.