Kevin Bronson on June 22nd, 2010

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If I were to review Sunday’s concert at the Greek Theatre the way Erykah Badu played it, I’d disappoint my loyal readers by waiting two weeks to publish it, I’d start it agonizingly slow, I’d forget some of the important parts and I’d pepper it with non sequiturs. (Commenters, feel free to have a field day.)

Suffice to say that as good as Badu’s new material is, her inexplicably delayed, predictably truncated (due to the Greek’s curfew) set frustrated all but the most devoted (and most stoned) fans.

• ||| Photos by Laurie Scavo

Fortunately, Janelle Monae was there to steal the show, for those who arrived early enough to catch her twilight set. The 24-year-old sprite delivered a dazzling, theatrical 30 minutes. In front of a band that fused hip-hop, R&B and rock, Monae’s cultivated androgyny and loose-limbed energy conspired to set the bar high for the evening. It was art school meets dance school meets film school, and even if you don’t have your brain around her debut album, the conceptual “The ArchAndroid,” it was a feast for the eyes and ears.

Of Montreal’s Kevin Barnes, who collaborated on the album, was on hand as Monae’s black-caped dancers cavorted up the aisles, exhorting the early arrivals. Monae was equal parts Grace Jones and Michael Jackson, turning her 30 minutes into an art project highlighted by “Tightrope” – not just a dance number (and a dance lesson) but a metaphor for life’s fine lines.

After Lupe Fiasco turned in a set of typically tight and energetic rap, the crowd got to play Waiting for Erykah. First, a 15-minute DJ set. Then a funky 10-minute instrumental jam. Then a 7-minute keyboard interlude leading up to the headliner’s entrance and “20 Feet Tall.” Badu started off flat and only occasionally found her groove, but her mere presence seemed to energize the masses.

Backed by a stellar band and four backup singers, she found her focus for a couple songs, notably “Appletree” and “Didn’t Cha Know,” and enjoyed a humorous moment when a fan tossed a pair of red underwear onstage. At the midpoint, the controversial “Window Seat” video began to play on the video screen behind Badu; she turned to watch it, only to have it cut off as she begins to disrobe.

The set was barely more than an hour old when Badu was told to wrap it up. Surprised, she eked out a version of “Window Seat” and exited. Like most of the paying customers, she probably wished the ride could have been longer.