Earlier this week I checked Janelle Monae out at the Black Cat with the good folks atParadise Exit. I was glad to see the DMV support, as the show was sold out and people still seemed to rep her as an indie artist rather than one of Diddy’s latest Bad Boy signees. I didn’t really have many expectations going in, but clearly Ms. Monae tried to build them up, keeping the crowd waiting an absurd TWO AND A HALF hours with no opening act. (In her defense, the DJ was absolutely dope, and played the Prince’s B-side original “She’s Always in My Hair”, a rare and legendary track most have only heard covered byD’Angelo.)

With anticipation building, Janelle’s appearance on stage was actually preceded by a tall brother with a top hat and long coattails (a la everyone’s favorite cartoon minstrelamphibian Michigan J. Frog), masked Eyes Wide Shut style, cryptically building anticipation. She also had a life-sized cardboard cutout of herself with the new album on stage for over an hour. Shameless and borderline obnoxious move, but I can’t knock her hustle. (Review continued after the break.)

When Janelle finally hit the stage, she appeared hidden under a hooded black cloak, and was accompanied by her drummer, guitarist, and keyboardist/bassist rocking the same getup. Once the hood came off and I got a load of her whole arrangement, I couldn’t take off my pop culture sociologist’s hat. The crew had a throwback 50’s/early 60’s outfits with a sound to match. And they put on a show. Every few minutes, members of her crew would pop up, throwing out oversized balloons and party favors into the crowd. Old Michigan J. was on the team, strutting around in a triumphant (and playfully subversive?) rendition of the Steppin Fetchet routine. There was the only non-African-American on the stage, who inexplicably and emphatically encouraged the crowd to clap on the downbeat… (as in the beat black folk don’t clap on.)

With her trademark Mohawk that r

Follow Hayling Price on twitter @BrotherPrice

esembles a giant dollop of black whipped cream, old school tuxedo slacks, a white sailor’s shirt and matching bowling shoes, she had a borderline androgynous appearance. Yet, she was still gorgeous and had a charming and confident feminine attitude. Ignoring the struts and gyrations all too common for females singers, Monae relied on her feet instead of her hips to do the talking. When she wasn’t whipping the mic stand around, she freestyled with crazy distinctive moves containing elements of the Charleston, the Egyptian, the Mashed Potatoes and Voguing. She had an impressive command of the stage, it’s also evident she’s studied the greats. Exhausting to watch, she pulled off jaw-dropping energy and athleticism in the spirit of James Brown. Yes, she busted out a cape. And yes, she closed with a stage dive.

Overall, the show was way over the top on style, and left a little to be desired on substance. I would have liked to hear something beyond a boilerplate guitar solo, and I was disappointed that there was so much pre-recorded playback behind the small live band. Testing out some new material, she also decided to skip her two biggest hits “Many Moons” and “Violet Stars Happy Hunting” with no curtain call. Her theatrics were planned to the second but hints of her inexperience did appear. While Janelle seemed determined on staying in character as her retro-futuristic robot alter-ego, awkward cues to her soundman and bandmates threw audience members for a loop. She did maintain her grace throughout, gently smiling at a crowd-goer who caught her mic stand after a particularly overzealous JB impersonation.

Despite the overly-cinematic experience and lack of music, I left the show with an overwhelmingly positive image of Ms. Monae. In an age where our female pop stars make hits extolling materialism, self-objectification, and patriarchy under the guise of women’s empowerment, Janelle Monae is a breath of fresh air. Instead of dropping brand names, being a slave to her own sexuality, or pining for salvation through a man, this funkateer comes back from the future to deliver a uniquely afrofuturist and feminist message only a self-proclaimed “alien from outer space” could.