![](/https/music.apple.com/assets/artwork/1x1.gif)
![Matangi](/https/music.apple.com/assets/artwork/1x1.gif)
After M.I.A.’s 2008 global hit “Paper Planes,” the British Sri Lankan artist had been propelled from the underground into the mainstream. But fame wasn’t exactly an easy fit. After moving to Los Angeles, M.I.A. was undermined by some in the US media, who mocked her for drawing attention to the political situation in Sri Lanka when she herself was now a rich woman living in the West. But what really invoked the ire of America’s press and public was her performance at the 2012 Super Bowl halftime show. Appearing alongside Madonna, M.I.A. flipped the bird at the camera, prompting the NFL to file a $1.5 million claim against her (only to later add another $15 million to the tally). The ensuing backlash against M.I.A. was impossible to quantify, but it was equally severe, turning the already-controversial artist into a target of derision by many Americans. Released in 2013, less than two years after the Super Bowl kerfuffle, Matangi might be less outwardly political than her previous record. But throughout her fourth album, M.I.A. is pointed in what she is (and isn’t) talking about. “Brown girl, brown girl/Turn your shit down/You know America don’t wanna hear your sound,” she chants on “Boom Skit.” And while this album is certainly less abrasive than its 2010 predecessor, Maya, this is a record that nonetheless subverts the expectations of both pop and rap’s mainstreams. A track like “Warriors” features off-kilter and glitchy electronics, and lets M.I.A. meld transcendental Indian classical drone with her caustic sing-song rap. And on “Bring the Noize,” her vocals serve as a piercing, emphatic form of percussion. And while Matangi is M.I.A.’s first record without any production work from Diplo, the global dance heat for which she’d become known still permeates the record (perhaps in part because she was still collaborating with her mainstay collaborator Switch, as well as renowned hip-hop producer Hit-Boy). As a result, throughout Matangi, there’s a general sense of an artist running free. There’s also a sense that Matangi represents Mathangi “Maya” Arulpragasam’s attempt at a brand of “spiritual” music. The album was called after a Hindu goddess with a name very similar to her own, and while Matangi isn’t some “holy music” per se, it is a reminder that the dance floor is a communal, borderless utopia where true believers can touch base with some higher power. At its best, Matangi is an album on which M.I.A. sounds like she’s tapped into that power, whether it’s on the breezy, pummeling pop crescendo of “Come Walk With Me,” the sugary, wobbly dub take of “Double Bubble Trouble,” or the gloriously enduring “Bad Girls.” It’s an album that stands as a defiant embrace of M.I.A.’s “outsider” status—and one that finds her still giving the status quo the middle finger.