Janelle Monáe, “The Age of Pleasure.”

The video for Janelle Monáe single “Lipstick Lover,” begins with a shot of her lying on the ground poolside while her lover, clad in golden chainmail necklace, leans down to gingerly kiss her. Monáe barely has time to slip the camera a sly look – as if to say “you know what happens next” – before she’s dragged off by her feet into a luxurious pool party full of attractive people who all want a piece of her and each other.

Janelle Monáe, of course, is the Atlanta hip-hop, soul and R&B artist whose self-described preferred pronouns are “free-ass mother—, and they/them, her/she.” It’s almost an understatement that she’s a well-established artist in her space partly because it feels like in she is the space. Too weird and interesting to be mainstream R&B, her brand of Afro-futurist mix even forays into rock territory.

The Age of Pleasure is a stark departure for Monáe because… it’s her first album since 2003 mixtape The Audition that isn’t specifically about androids. Albums like 2007’s Metropolis: Suite 1 (The Chase), 2010’s The ArchAndroid, 2013’s Electric Lady and 2018’s Dirty Computer – collectively known as the “Metropolis series” – all show her science fiction affinity that defined her unique genre-bending, high-concept brand of music.

But on this album Janelle Monáe returns to the present for what might be her most important work yet: a celebration of gender, sexuality, queer identity and polyamory. It joins the ranks of Doja Cat’s Planet Her, Megan Thee Stallion’s Good News and Rico Nasty’s Nightmare Vacation as a statement about female and femme-presenting artists reclaiming the narrative around their sexuality. These are important albums in a male-dominated, often misogynistic and homophobic space like hip-hop.

But The Age of Pleasure is different for how comprehensive it is as an album. The themes are consistent across every song and the transitions are on par with Pink Floyd’s Dark Side of the Moon. It’s a very easy album to let play from start to finish.

It starts with “Float,” featuring Seun Kuti and Egypt 80, on which Monáe comes out swinging with all the hip-hop braggadocio you’d expect from the genre.

“No, I’m not the same/ I think I done changed,” she asserts in the first line, as if to call out the difference of her new music from her old. What follows sets the tone for the rest of the album, which is a song that celebrates her accomplishments, sexuality and sharp sense of style.

The first half of the album is full of tightly produced beats that are quick, jazz-inspired and funk-inspired and complement Monáe’s rapping and triplet flow deliciously. “Champagne Shit” stands out for taking an initially sparse piano riff and expanding it into a beautifully complex song that feels party-ready for summer.

The second half of the album switches gears and showcases Monáe’s reggae influences. The steel chop of Jamaican guitars form the backbone of songs like “Lipstick Lover,” “Water Slide” and “Paid in Pleasure.” The most interesting song here is easily “Only Eyes 42,” which has a chorus that alludes to her experiences with polyamory. This isn’t something that’s been tackled on such a high-profile release in recent memory.

“I only have eyes for two,” she sings.

Only three of the album’s 14 songs cross the three-minute mark. There’s no filler or fat – it’s all the good stuff. The only thing that isn’t obvious is how these songs are broken up and fit next to each other. For example, interludes “Ooh La La” and “The French 75” would work as a single song if they were smashed into the same track.

The set of queer and gender-expansive anthems is especially conspicuous in a time when several states have approved or considered laws restricting queer and trans freedoms, including gender affirming care and drag shows, in recent months. The Age of Pleasure makes sense as a current description of her life today – proud and unabashed of who she is.

Hanif Abdurraqib, one of the most prolific music writers of the last decade, often says that it’s not enough to think about how a song or album sounds and feels, but what a song means. With that in mind, The Age of Pleasure is Janelle Monáe’s most meaningful album yet.