Describing Janelle Monae as an r’n’b artist is like categorising Mozart as a piano-player. Sure, she toys with r’n’b, flaunting her bad gurl curls all over it, but rather than being her end product, Monae uses it as a starting point, a base from which to rocket into other aural galaxies.
I’d listened to The Electric Lady numerous times before I realised that Prince guests on one of the standout tracks, more of which later. But it makes perfect sense that the diminutive Paisley Park president-for-life would jam with Janelle, as comparisons between the Kansas native and Mr. Nelson in his purple pomp are not too far wide of the mark. The duo share a willingness to experiment, to genre-hop through funk, hip hop, rock, soul, jazz and, of course, that slinkiest of mistresses, pop.
Their collaboration here, ‘Givin’ Em What They Love’, is a super sleazy and sultry slice of brilliance. Indeed, the brass-led middle-eight is so funktastic, it should come with a health warning: may induce spontaneous bouts of groin-grinding amongst normally reserved Irish folk, who usually dance like their mammy at a wedding.
“Categorise me, I defy every label,” Monae deadpans on ‘Q.U.E.E.N’, where she’s joined by the great Erykah Badu for an electro-funk, r’n’b, hip hop extravaganza. She’s right too: Monae is impossible to pigeonhole, sashaying from cyber-western to Latin disco with a shrug of her shoulders and a swing of her hips. What’s abundantly clear is that she’s having so much fun as she limbos through these musical hoops – and it’s nigh impossible to listen to The Electric Lady without picking up on that freedom of spirit.
Lyrically, this is the latest in her Suites series, set in a futuristic android utopia; not that you’d really notice, aside from the spoken word interludes, although tracks like ‘Sally Ride’ (sadly, not a companion piece to ‘Mustang Sally’) do sound like the soundtrack to a film you frustratingly haven’t seen.
‘We Were Rock And Roll’, contrary to its title, is pristine disco, equal parts Donna Summer and Abba, giving Monae’s vocal chords the chance to shine, while the infectious electro-rockabilly stomp of ‘Dance Apocalyptic’ “shalangalang”s like Grease’s pink ladies, put through an electro-wringer, emerging into the Blade Runner light of a neon dawn, fully formed and ready to dance.
Elsewhere, ‘It’s Code’ and ‘Can’t Live Without Your Love’ cast Monae as a ’70s-style soul diva, a role she wears easily, while ‘Ghetto Woman’ is funky, sassy girl power for the 21st century.
Then there’s the dramatic surge of ‘Look Into My Eyes’, which could be an Andrew Lloyd-Webber out-take, the beautiful string-drenched duet with Miguel, ‘Primetime’, which manages to recall Whitney in her heyday, and the absolutely bonkers ‘Suite V Electric Overture’, which morphs from classical stirrings to 1950s’ soundtrack fare, where you can just imagine Doris Day and Cary Grant painting on their finest smiles for a PG romp in the sunshine.
The sheer variety of ideas careening around the confines of one record is astounding. It’s incredible too to think that this is only Monae’s second album, and that, comparatively speaking, she’s only starting out on her musical journey. Where her sonic adventures will take her is anyone’s guess, but on the evidence of The Electric Lady, we should just strap in, sit back and enjoy the wildest of rides.

Key Track: 'Givin' Em What They Love'