There are some odd mastering choices here for a dance album: The bass drum is often turned down too low to really pummel, the ‘80s-boogie type synth in “Virgo’s Groove” that would threaten to electrocute your brain in its original form is restrained, and the Kilo Ali sample in “America Has a Problem” sounds compressed into murk. Electro should have bounce, but “America” is deflated. That said, some of the subtlety works, like the way a synth melody creeps into the Grace Jones and Tems-featuring “Move.” After the barked bravado of the song’s opening, the beauty of if all dawns on you.

Beyoncé’s far from anonymous here, but she rarely goes all in vocally—exceptions include “Plastic Off the Sofa,” which she chews on in a way that Prince used to; a hyperventilating precision in “All Up in Your Mind;” and glorious ad libs that wiggle up and down scales in “Virgo’s Groove.” There’s a lot going on here, so perhaps she reserved the vocal acrobatics for the forthcoming chapters of the project (the album’s technical title is Act I: Renaissance, and in a message timed to this album’s release, she described it as part of a “three act project”). Her voice sounds flawless as always, but perhaps the relative vocal restraint is to avoid getting in the way of her tracks and, by extension, the dancing they invite.

Renaissance is dense and overwhelming musically, but lyrically it mostly sticks to the tried-and-true themes of Beyoncé’s greatness and love’s supremacy. She’s so rapturous with self-love in the Drake collaboration “Heated” that I thought at first her lyrics were bisexual (“Never met a girl with a mind like this, no, no/To kill space and time like this, my love/Nеver met a girl so fine likе this, no, no, no, no, no/Wanna waste some while like this”). Her bragging turns surrealistic on the highlight “Alien Superstar” (“I got pearls beneath my legs, my lips, my hands, my hips/I’ve got diamonds beneath my thighs, but his ego will find bliss/Can’t find an ocean deep than can compete with this cinnamon kiss/Fire beneath your feet, music when you speak, you’re so unique”). Gelling the album are repeated lyrical themes—a rejection of drugs for love (“Love is my weakness/Don’t need drugs for some freak shit” in “I’m That Girl;” “Your love keeps me high” in “Virgo’s Groove”), and the specifically ballroom reference of naming a moment’s category (in “Alien Superstar,” the categories are “bad bitch” and “sexy bitch,” and in “Summer Renaissance,” it’s “bae”).

There’s not much overtly political discourse here, save a reference to Karens who “just turned into terrorists.” That is not to say that the album is apolitical, though. In her artist statement, Bey gives a shoutout to her uncle Jonny, whom she refers to as her “godmother and the first person to expose me to a lot of the music and culture that serve as inspiration for this album.” She continues: “Thank you to all of the pioneers who originate culture, to all of the fallen angels whose contributions have gone unrecognized for far too long.” Beyoncé previously referred to Jonny, who had HIV, as “the most fabulous gay man I ever knew, who helped raise me and my sister.”

At a time when LGBTQ+ people are under attack from the right, which baselessly calls us “groomers,” attempts to rob trans people (especially kids) of their ability to live as their authentic selves, and may threaten marriage equality just for the cruelty of it all, the biggest pop star in the world created an album that is openly indebted to the contributions of queer people, particularly the Black gay progenitors of house music. While people today frequently dance mindlessly, unaware of the roots of the sound that are propelling them, Beyoncé has repeatedly raised awareness. It makes all the difference.