The night begins with darkness, and a loud growl that rebounds around a venue lit by phone screens. As the stage lights come up, the American R&B singer Victoria Monét manifests out of nowhere, draped in a hooded cloak, camouflaged by the lights.
Her most recent hit album, this summer’s Jaguar II, follows its 2020 predecessor in being named for the jungle animal whose principal characteristics are its stealth and the strength of its bite. The stage – way too small for this windswept production – is dressed in verdant plant life, and when Monét shrugs off her robe to reveal a shiny golden two-piece outfit, it all feels redolent of the Amazonian glamour of 00s R&B.
The question “Where did she come from?” is quicky followed by “Why is she here?” This gig will be the final night of Monét’s Jaguar tour, but it also clearly draws a line under the artist’s current phase. Her seven Grammy nominations (announced the previous week) mean that she won’t be gracing venues this tiny again, other than by choice. They are the big gongs too: record of the year, best new artist, best R&B album.
The Californian’s first song tonight is the older slow jam Moment, in which she urges a sexual partner to seize their day. “This your motherfucking moment,” Monét coos, a line that bends fluidly to her own situation. What follows feels like ambushing, in the best possible way – an overdelivery of choreography, charm and class so complete it’s absurd this gig is happening in a Camden shoebox on a Tuesday.
Monét’s long tresses are blown around by unseen mistrals as she and her two dancers make like Destiny’s Child at a turn-of-the-millennium awards ceremony. She flawlessly belts out a catalogue packed with frank, female-positive affirmations and wise humour while rarely standing still.
Although her time in the margins is over, stealth has been a major factor in Monét’s rise. The singer gained industry fame as a songwriter and vocal producer after the trio she was in – called Purple Reign – were dropped by their label before releasing any material. (You can still find a cappellas on YouTube.)
Pop’n’B powerhouse Ariana Grande remains one of her repeat clients, and a close friend: Grande brought the then unknown Monét out to duet with her as long ago as 2017 at the One Love concert in the wake of the Manchester Arena bombings, prompting a flurry of interest. Monét later had a major hand in Grande’s Thank U, Next (2019), but continued to release her own work. Jaguar (technically an EP) came out independently in 2020, its impact muted by the pandemic.
One of that record’s highest points, Ass Like That, asserts the authenticity not just of Monét’s glutes – earned in the gym – but her hustle, all the while exuding vintage musical classiness. While twerking tonight, she manages to raise an eyebrow at the skewed value placed on women’s bodies. We also get a short, strangely guitar-fuelled blast of Monopoly, her 2019 duet with Grande, whose breezy, throwaway lines feel like tiny little self-realisation koans: “Outta here with that fuckery, treat my goals like property, collect them like Monopoly.”
Monet, then, is a highly current artist – a sizzling summer single, On My Mama, complete with TikTok dance craze, preceded Jaguar II. But she is also fabulously old-school. Earth, Wind & Fire are guests on an album full of real instrumentation, harking back not just to the 00s but Janet Jackson in the 90s and 80s, the disco era, and the soul and funk of the 70s.
There’s even a nod to the Supremes tonight: Stop (Askin’ Me 4Shyt) starts as a dance routine to Stop! In the Name of Love. Monét’s track chastises a partner who is too eager to spend her money, but the sepia warmth – all jazz-tinged retro soul – cleverly undercuts the withering lyrics.
On past dates, Monét has ended the song with various exhortations beginning with the word “stop”. (“Stop worrying about what everybody else thinks,” is typical.) Tonight she concludes: “Stop turning a blind eye to the genocide and the hate in this world. Use your voice.” Everyone screams.
Jaguars aside, there is another big animal in the room: Monét’s debt to Beyoncé. The hair, the costumes, the dancing, the warmth and wit, and the meta-commentaries in clever songs like Smoke, which celebrate weed, but also African American pop culture: Knowles led on all these fronts. But the Beyoncé vibes are so comprehensively wrapped in other inspirations, a snowballing of Black genres and artistry that has come before, it doesn’t register as a problem.
Somehow, she channels all these references and yet remains her own artist. Languid and joyous, her biggest hit, On My Mama, is the product of a long line of affirmative tunes in the history of R&B and pop (“I look fly, I look good,” it goes) that nonetheless exudes pure Monét. She wrote it having recently had a baby, lending the lyrics about mothers and body image greater resonance.
The retro vibes of Cadillac (A Pimp’s Anthem), meanwhile, find singer and dancers dressed in long coats and twirling walking sticks. It recalls Janet Jackson’s own pimp phase (the video for 1989’s Alright), but it also makes an explicit bid for women – and Monét – to have equal authority with the bad boys. But with her technical nous, proven record and rich artistry, Monét’s musical status now seems assured.
