R&B changeling Janelle Monae dazzles in Las Vegas

She cataloged former hurts with current relish, practically licking the juice of past grievances from her fingertips.

“Remember when they told you I was too black for ya?”

“Remember when they used to say I look too mannish?”

“Remember when you called me weird?”

“Do you remember?”

Janelle Monae does.

Those four questions, spread across three songs, formed a thematic motif of the R&B changeling’s remarkable performance Tuesday at The Pearl at the Palms.

“Remember when you laughed when I cut my perm off / And you rated me a 6?” Monae sang-rapped over a trap beat on the gospel-pop “I Like That,” traveling all the way back to grade school. “I was like, ‘Damn’ / But even back then with the tears in my eyes / I always knew I was (special).”

Bear-hugging these perceived idiosyncrasies and inadequacies has become Monae’s stock in trade.

“This song is for all the people who embrace what makes them unique,” she said by way of introducing the aforementioned number.

Then, she engaged in a bit of crowd work, pointing out the attire and hair styles of various audience members that made each stand out: a man’s dreadlocks, a woman’s pink shirt, an individual’s skin tone.

“Your braids, girl, I like it,” Monae purred.

If Monae’s become an advocate of self-acceptance, the 32-year-old Kansas City native has done so the hard way.

“I was made to believe there’s something wrong with me,” she confessed during “Cold War,” a cathartic, rock and roll fist-pumper from her 2010 debut, “The Arch Android,” delivering the tune in what looked like a chic reimagining of a drum major’s uniform, complete with large, square shoulders sprouting bright red tassels.

Monae’s distinct, flamboyant fashion sense mirrors her art: She’s an amalgamation of the feminine and the masculine, blurring gender boundaries, favoring an open sexuality.

At various points in song, Monae compared herself to a young Harriet Tubman, a modern-day Joan of Arc, “the random minor note you hear in major songs” and a killer Terminator cyborg.

Speaking of the latter, on her first two albums, Monae gave voice to a running storyline inspired by Fritz Lang’s sci-fi classic “Metropolis” where she portrayed an android, Cindi Mayweather, combating oppressors of love and free expression.

But on her fantastic new record, “Dirty Computer,” one of the year’s best, Monae gets more personal — and political — confronting gender inequality, racism and homophobia over a radiant funk-rock-hip-hop backdrop that’s by turns robotic and raw, warm-sounding and ceaselessly cool.

“Hundred men telling me cover up my areolas / While they blocking equal pay, sippin’ on they Coca Colas,” Monae sang during “Screwed,” a “Computer” highlight that conflates sex with power as a commentary on the abuse of the latter. “Jane Bond, never Jane Doe / And I Django, never Sambo,” she added during a hard-swinging “Django Jane.”

It was all delivered with consistent visual flair, with Monae rapping while seated in a large red-and-gold throne during “Q.U.E.E.N.,” busting moves in poofy pants designed to look like a woman’s nether regions on “Pynk,” working it so hard during the tongue-clicking funk of the Prince-indebted “Make Me Feel” that one of her hair extensions fell to the stage.

Monae’s performance culminated with “Americans,” a plea for togetherness that closes “Dirty Computer.”

“Just love me, baby, love me for who I am,” Monae sang during the song’s final verse, addressing the crowd, and herself, in the same breath.

Contact Jason Bracelin at jbracelin@reviewjournal.com or 702-383-0476. Follow @JasonBracelin on Twitter.