REVIEW: Beyoncé again proves to be centre of pop universe

Beyoncé doesn't simply release albums anymore, she unleashes events.

And so it was this weekend, amid deep mourning for a lost icon, music's queen dropped Lemonade, an arresting display of what technically qualifies as videos and singles, but is better described as a work of art that appeared deeply personal, yet is a bold social and political statement as well.

It contains revenge anthems for scorned wives, a requiem for side chicks, a display of #BlackGirlMagic and support of #BlackLivesMatter, and an ode to forgiveness, all wrapped into an hourlong HBO special on Saturday night that would of course land on Tidal, the music streaming service owned by hubby Jay Z, moments after the special ended.

"Are you cheating on me?" Beyoncé's husky voice intones early on. For the first half of Lemonade, it seems that Jay Z's 100th problem was here, and unfixable. While Beyoncé has used rumours of infidelity to fuel her music for years, from Ring the Alarm to Jealous, it seemed as if she was spilling all the tea on her much-scrutinised marriage with Lemonade.

On Hold Up, an intoxicating song with an island beat, a smiling Beyoncé takes Crazy in Love to a new level: She smashes a bat on everything around her while reminding her man that other women "don't love you like I love you". Later, on Sorry, with a twerking Serena Williams by her side, she shows her man the stupidity of his cheating ways and all he's lost. "Middle fingers up, put 'em hands high, put it in his face, tell him 'Boy bye.'"

At another point, she references her man's desire for "Becky with the good hair" and talks about wearing his mistresses scalp — talk about snatching edges.

What could come across as desperate instead becomes empowering, though, in part due to the poetic narrative Beyoncé uses to tie each segment together, as well as the imagery, which is a defiant celebration of the beauty of black women: Dark to light, wooly hair to wavy hair, all looking glorious, with cameos from the likes of Oscar-nominated Quvenzhané Wallis, Zendaya and Amandla Stenberg.



And just as we think it's time to start to get seriously concerned for Jay Z's safety, he appears, nestled with his queen, in Sandcastles, which speaks to a troubled union but a love that transcends it.

While much of Lemonade would appear to tie into Beyoncé's own life, or so she would have us believe, she also draws from the angst of the black community: The mothers of Trayvon Martin and Michael Brown are seen, among others, looking somber as they hold photos of their slain sons. At another point, she tells the audience via the voice of Malcolm X that "the most disrespected woman in America is the black woman".

Like much of her music over the last few years, the music on Lemonade is not made for pop radio.

Besides the explicit language, it doesn't fit into neat categories and boxes, ranging from R&B to a bit of reggae to rock and even a country twang. Paired with its visuals, it's also elevated, becoming a work of art that has many layers to be dissected; there may well be dissertations planned on it at this moment.

It all speaks to Beyoncé's undisputed role the queen of pop — not of music, but of culture. It's hard to imagine any other artist who could drop a project in the middle of our national mourning for Prince and still not only get attention for it, but captivate us so.

Toward the end of Formation, not included on the HBO special but part of the album, Beyoncé intones: "You know you that bitch when you cause all this conversation."

With Lemonade, she shows us she is King B, once again.