Album Review: Janelle Monáe, ‘The Age of Pleasure’

To dismiss The Age of Pleasure as Janelle Monáe’s obligatory “fun” album after several years and of intensely and overtly political records would not only be incorrect but also a profound misreading of the album and its greater context. With its urgent amapiano pulses and lascivious shit-popping lyrics, The Age of Pleasure is undoubtedly fun. But this isn’t fun for fun’s sake, The Age of Pleasure lifts the essence of fun to something closer to exaltation. On their fourth studio album, Janelle Monáe exalts the oasis that is the paradise of pleasure — a mood and politic they have arrived at only through the darker journeys of most of their first three albums. If Janelle Monáe’s entire discography is a mapping of their journey towards liberation, The Age of Pleasure is the point on the timeline where liberation has, in fact, been achieved — if only for 30 minutes “in the summer breeze,” as they sing on album closer “A Dry Red.”

“Float,” the first single from the album, commences The Age of Pleasure with a mélange of hints at the primary sounds of this galaxy in the Janelle Monáe Sonic Universe. Rooted in the earthy groove of roots reggae, Janelle folds in a healthy dose of horns courtesy of Afrobeat band Sean Kuti & Egypt 80’. Similar to the cadence of “Django Jane,” “Float” transforms that song’s militant energy into something a bit more ethereal. The Age of Pleasure presents a Janelle that understands the importance of fully embracing an era of levity while always remembering what it took to reach that place. As the title suggests, Janelle literally floats through the album. Like other recent dance-centric albums of liberation and reclamation such as Beyoncé’s Renaissance and Kelela’s Raven, The Age of Pleasure seamlessly transitions from one track to the next.

“Champagne Shit” begins with churchy organ chords before reintroducing an ebullient horn section as Janelle rides a wave of drunken glee with lyrics like “Don't ask me shit about work / 'Cause I'm on my champagne shit.” With labor off of their mind, Janelle can spend The Age of Pleasure doing equally important things, like exploring and honoring the multiplicity of their self and sexuality. “Phenomenal,” a standout collaboration with “What It Is” rapper Doechii, recalls Beyoncé’s Grace Jones-assisted “Move” in its implementation of dancehall-esque percussion, haughty spoken bits, and an overarching spirit of self-assuredness. "Haute,” a song that’s more chorus than verse, succinctly presents one of the album’s thesis statements through its use of repetition. With the hook taking up so much space in the song, the focus is squarely on the repetition of phrases such as “A bitch look good / A bitch look haute / A bitch look pretty / A bitch look handsome.” Janelle’s use of repetition manifests itself as the recitation of affirmations — the only way to reach the oasis of pleasure and fortify its walls and foundation.

Sonically, The Age of Pleasure primarily lives in the warmth of the sun. “Lipstick Lover” continues their foray into rocksteady, “The French 75” sparks a contextualization of Sister Nancy’s eternal “Bam Bam” and invites the Jamaican legend to name herself as “And I ah a Sista Nancy with the lyrics my name / Me, I'm the only woman DJ with degree.” Grace Jones lends her voice to “Ooh La La,” where she acts as a guiding elder for Janelle; Ckay, Afropop’s preeminent sad boy, joins Janelle for a sensuous ode to the art of the slow wine; and Ghanian-American Afrofusion star Amaarae provides gorgeous upper harmonies on the Nia Long-narrated “The Rush.” Although the journey to pleasure is primarily a personal odyssey, it is still a politic that necessitates community, and The Age of Pleasure traces this community across the diaspora.

Wondaland / Bad Boy / Atlantic

For as musically intelligent and intricate as this album is, The Age of Pleasure ultimately suffers because it houses some of the least imaginative songwriting of Janelle’s career. The album’s production holds too many moments of sparseness for lyrics that are neither metaphorical nor memorable, just average one-liners that feel devoid of Janelle’s trademark spunk. “Backstroke, freestyle / Surfin' on that thang like it's high tide,” they sing on “Water Slide.” Luckily, the album’s half-hour runtime prevents the flurry of sex-positive self-appraisals from becoming redundant, but bigger songwriting swings like the jazz-reggae crossover “Only Have Eyes 42,” would make The Age of Pleasure feel closer to the overarching aesthetics of Janelle’s previous records.

Although The Age of Pleasure feels a bit more rushed and less cerebral than the rest of their studio albums, Janelle Monáe has still found a way to deliver what this moment needs most — a handbook for what the beginning of a genuine embrace of pleasure politics can look like.

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Key Tracks: “Phenomenal” | “Haute” | “The Rush” | “Know Better” | “Only Have Eyes 42”

Score: 77