In Janelle Monáe's full-length debut, the science fiction concept album The ArchAndroid, the android Cindi Mayweather is on the run from the authorities for the crime of loving a human. Living in 28th century Metropolis, Cindi fights for survival, soon realizing that she is in fact the prophesied ArchAndroid, a robot messiah meant to liberate the masses and lead them toward a wonderland where all can be free. Taking into account the literary merit of Monáe's astounding multimedia body of work, the political relevance of the science fictional themes and aesthetics she explores, and her role as an Atlanta-based pop cultural juggernaut, this book explores the lavish world building of Cindi's story, and the many literary, cinematic, and musical influences brought together to create it. Throughout, a history of Monáe's move to Atlanta, her signing with Bad Boy Records, and the trials of developing a full-length concept album in an industry devoted to the production of marketable singles can be found, charting the artist's own rise to power. The stories of Monáe and of Cindi are inextricably entwined, each making the other more compelling, fantastical, and deeply felt.
The Archandroid is simply brilliant and Alyssa Favreau's analysis is exactly what I wanted: an examination of the album's Afrofuturism , Monae's life and some info behind the songs. Also features Metropolis.
This was one of my favorite books in the series so far. The author's enthusiasm for Monae was contagious. This book covered Star Trek, BLM, voting rights, Black Art Collectives, Queer and Trans positivity, concept albums, and androids. Of course, Androids. There was so much about Monae that I didn't know, and this book did a great job telling her story with gusto. I adore Janelle Monae and what she stands for.
This was a fun look at Janelle Monae's breakthrough second album, with a deeper dive into the mythology and world she built to accompany it. There were so many references and Easter eggs that I'd had absolutely no idea about. Favreau does a great job of bringing her personal love for the album and placing it against a deep dive into Monae's inspirations and growth.
Worth the price of admission just for the tidbit about the music video for "Cold War" originally planned to be much more elaborate with many sets and concepts, until the director and the team played back the initial "monae singing into the camera" take and said 'that's it, that's our music video' and that's why it is the way it is. incredibly powerful stuff and really enhanced the viewing experience of the music video for me.
Honestly I should read the liner notes for the albums somehow before digging into books like these. I loved reading this analysis of a great album that I love, the book was filled with love, respect, context, and painted a really interesting picture of Monae/Cindi as an artist as well as the Wondaland collective. Very fun.
An interesting album to approach, given it felt like such a fully-formed statement when it landed, but with hindsight has vindicated Monae's statement at the time of representing maybe a quarter of what they were capable of. Favreau is writing in light of some of what's come since, but inevitably talking about Dirty Computer as a coming-out album, both sexually and in the sense of stepping out from behind the cyborg persona, reads oddly in the wake of The Age Of Pleasure, which makes it look positively coy in comparison. Notwithstanding that accident of timing, or a couple of stylistic choices about which I wasn't entirely sure, it's a good read, digging into everything from the operation, uses and limits of Monae's alter ego Cindi Mayweather, to the operation of the Wondaland collective that backs them up. There are some 33 1/3s which feel like the perfect length, but this is definitely one that leaves me impatient to read a fuller study of both Monae as individual and the Metropolis mythos. Although partly it served to remind me how much is already out there without my having seen it, sleevenotes having become so unmoored from their albums in the digital age. Which itself feels like a plot point from the album's dystopian future.
I'll admit, aside from a few singles, Janelle Monae is not an artist I'm overly familiar with, though I will admit that this book does tempt one to dive in further. Part of that is based on the job Favreau does in painting the picture of Monae as an author as opposed to merely just a voice/musician. But, that's only one spot in the book; it also is filled with ideas and ties to the album that one is likely to miss, should they not be familiar with the whole record. Still, there's some great stuff in here about Monae's craft, her ability to build an artist infrastructure at Wondaland and her positivity in bringing hope through her work...all of which I'm more aware of now that I've digested this book.
Academic rather than critical, with appearances from 'liminal spaces' and 'intersectionality' and queer theory. Well researched all the same, and personal to the author.
Some really interesting connections made between sci-fi media that I never would have considered on my own. Inspiring me to start a PhD on Cindi Mayweather...