CD of The Week

It feels like an eternity has passed since M.I.A. was actually discussed for her music. A myriad of Super Bowl controversies and New York Times contradictions are what have come to define the former queen regent of new world pop in the current phase of her career. It didn't help that her last album, 2010's abrasive, divisive ///Y/, failed to impress enough to distract from debates on whether or not ordering truffle fries constituted political hypocrisy. Perhaps it's a testament to Ms. Arulpragasm's sustained status as an indie iconoclast that Matangi arrives now, so long after her music was the most interesting thing about her. Though it likely won't ignite fandom the same way the dynamic duo of Arular and Kala did (what else could?), it's a commanding, culminating collection of songs that demands discussion.

The second album in a row to take on her own namesake in some form (this time it's a variation on her birth name Mathangi), M.I.A.'s latest continues its predecessor's introspection while abandoning its introversion. Songs still take surprising and subversive turns, but the repellent industrial strum and clang has been scrubbed back off, which is fittingly ironic given how many of her peers have swiped it for their own recent "masterpieces." As is appropriate for a largely reflective album arc, Matangi echoes and invites comparisons to past peaks. The title track borrow's it's beat from Kala single "Boyz" while "Come Walk With Me" ends with "Bamboo Banga's" instantly iconic promise to come back with "powa, powa."

Perhaps the ultimate olive branch offered to listeners here is the rightful inclusion of stopgap single "Bad Girls." Touted as a return to form by the true believers back in 2011 and backed by an instant classic music video, it sounds as fresh and ferocious as ever here. It's supported by other equally effective bangers like the cheeky "Y.A.L.A.," a delicious if delayed dig at Y.O.L.O pseudoculture, and the luxe, lush Weeknd sampler "Exodus."

Matangi's cup does tend to runneth over towards the end, and the lyrics still take an occasional slide into simplistic sloganeering. But for the first time in over half a decade, M.I.A. sounds like she's trying to deconstruct and rebuild rather than simply destruct. "If you're gonna be me, you need a manifesto," she advises as the album begins. "If you ain't got one, you better get one presto." By the time this album ends, both she and we have one we can believe in again.