On her fourth album, polymath Janelle Monáe is unapologetically “on her champagne shit”. The Age of Pleasure finds the singer and actor at her most celebratory, liberatory and self-loving, detailing fun of all kinds. Joyous trumpets accompany her rap on Float, where Monáe declares: “I’m not the same.” (“I’m young and I’m black and I’m wild,” Haute confirms.) The sapphic pool party in the video for her recent dancehall track Lipstick Lover outdoes the one for Monáe’s infamous vulva-themed Pynk (2018). She’s topless but for some fingers on the cover of Rolling Stone.
Once, Monáe was an outlier who declined to show flesh – an artist given to conjuring dazzling, sci-fi-inspired works about oppression and resistance. The Age of Pleasure marks the end of a long process of self-revelation; an emboldening that has gone hand-in-hand with Grammy nominations and big-screen success (next up: Monáe plays Josephine Baker). Having parked her dystopian allegories, it follows that Monáe now feels a little more like an artist in a crowded partying field. But she has earned this mainstream place. Moreover, she remains distinctive. It’s not just that Monáe prioritises queer Black joy in the face of racism and homophobia, asking Grace Jones, Sister Nancy and Amaarae to the party. On I Only Have Eyes 42, she does uncommon things with reggae and polyamory.
