Spring Break
R&B singer goes trekkie with latest album, 'Metropolis'
The Futuristic rock wonder/singer releases a new collection inspired by a silent film from 1929.
by Brad Stern
Staff Writer
Arts | 8/26/08
Posted online at 7:15 PM EST on 8/25/08
/ Last updated at 1:37 AM EST on 8/25/08
In a world of illegal downloading and instant gratification, there is little appreciation for the concept of a full length album.
Says R&B recording artist Janelle Monáe's management team:
"The concept of the suite release was inspired by the observation that the youth of the iPod generation no longer buy or listen to entire albums. They listen to playlists. They grab their favorite three to four songs from a particular album, add those to a playlist, and then discard the rest of the album like yesterday's news."
For that reason, Monáe's team has decided to opt for a "suite" collection, quarterly releases that feature a small sampling of tracks juicy enough both to hold the public's interest and to leave them begging for more. Last Tuesday saw the release of Monáe's first collection, Metropolis: The Chase Suite.
The album is a concept centered around the fictitious Metropolis, a world based on the 1929 silent film bearing the same name. The conflict? Cindi Mayweather, an Alpha Platinum 9000 android, has committed the intolerable crime of falling in love with a human. Now the chase is on among the aliens of Metropolis to find and destroy Mayweather's cyber-soul. Still following? Good, now hang on a bit longer.
The album opens with "The March of the Wolfmasters," a cheeky intergalactic announcement that formally commences the hunt for Cindi Mayweather. As soon as the track fades out, the album surges into its full element: "I-I-I'm an alien from outer space," Monáe stutters into the opening of "Violet Stars Happy Hunting!!!" before the operatic backing vocals crash against an unstoppably catchy guitar-synth riff. "Y'all better shut up," she suddenly announces mid-track, as the song moves swiftly into the album's surging, organ-fueled soul fest, "Many Moons," which is reminiscent of a Gnarls Barkley track on speed.
After "Cybertronic Purgatory," the album's sobering and operatically vocoded halfway mark, "Sincerely, Jane" supplies a resurgence of energy. Monáe pierces the airwaves along with spirited horn flourishes in this swinging bossa nova-drenched burst of sound. It's a clash of genres, wandering among elements of motown, jazz and classic pop standards. The follow up, however, fails to maintain that energy. "Mr. President" is an uneven if not misplaced political skewering that doesn't quite pack the same punch as the rest of the album. It's a valiant effort and a beautiful Motown mid-tempo, but the lyrical content feels more like a misguided step than a meaningful contribution to the suite.
Says R&B recording artist Janelle Monáe's management team:
"The concept of the suite release was inspired by the observation that the youth of the iPod generation no longer buy or listen to entire albums. They listen to playlists. They grab their favorite three to four songs from a particular album, add those to a playlist, and then discard the rest of the album like yesterday's news."
For that reason, Monáe's team has decided to opt for a "suite" collection, quarterly releases that feature a small sampling of tracks juicy enough both to hold the public's interest and to leave them begging for more. Last Tuesday saw the release of Monáe's first collection, Metropolis: The Chase Suite.
The album is a concept centered around the fictitious Metropolis, a world based on the 1929 silent film bearing the same name. The conflict? Cindi Mayweather, an Alpha Platinum 9000 android, has committed the intolerable crime of falling in love with a human. Now the chase is on among the aliens of Metropolis to find and destroy Mayweather's cyber-soul. Still following? Good, now hang on a bit longer.
The album opens with "The March of the Wolfmasters," a cheeky intergalactic announcement that formally commences the hunt for Cindi Mayweather. As soon as the track fades out, the album surges into its full element: "I-I-I'm an alien from outer space," Monáe stutters into the opening of "Violet Stars Happy Hunting!!!" before the operatic backing vocals crash against an unstoppably catchy guitar-synth riff. "Y'all better shut up," she suddenly announces mid-track, as the song moves swiftly into the album's surging, organ-fueled soul fest, "Many Moons," which is reminiscent of a Gnarls Barkley track on speed.
After "Cybertronic Purgatory," the album's sobering and operatically vocoded halfway mark, "Sincerely, Jane" supplies a resurgence of energy. Monáe pierces the airwaves along with spirited horn flourishes in this swinging bossa nova-drenched burst of sound. It's a clash of genres, wandering among elements of motown, jazz and classic pop standards. The follow up, however, fails to maintain that energy. "Mr. President" is an uneven if not misplaced political skewering that doesn't quite pack the same punch as the rest of the album. It's a valiant effort and a beautiful Motown mid-tempo, but the lyrical content feels more like a misguided step than a meaningful contribution to the suite.
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