Janelle Monáe and Wondaland throw an 'Eephus' pitch at Union Transfer

Wondaland's Eephus Tour kickoff Wednesday night was both party and protest.

After marching down Broad Street for the #BlackJoyPhilly demonstration, the artists of Wondaland Records - including founder Janelle Monáe - launched the tour, their national series of secret shows, at Union Transfer. All this was a lead-up to the release Friday of their debut collaborative EP, The Eephus.

Rather than the normal set structure, the show was layered review-style, various artists coming to the fore at different times. It started with Roman GianArthur's "Let's Go Crazy," and when Monáe twirled in, the crowd screamed in surprise.

Jidenna performed his smooth "Knickers" with a contagious box step, and he dropped his lyrics to "Long Live the Chief" like bread crumbs leading from punch line to punch line.

St. Beauty was a mellow and almost '70s trippy change of pace, with soft but vigorous choruses like "Never Be an Americlone." Monáe big-sistered from backstage: She smiled, mouthed lyrics, and clapped in support.

Punk-rock duo Deep Cotton were a hurricane, leaving mic stands, microphones, and inhibitions in their wake, especially with their "Runaway Radio," taking the audience on a ride that went where only the brave will go again.

Monáe performed empowerment anthems "Q.U.E.E.N." and "Electric Lady." She masterfully remixed the latter to Dr. Dre's "Nothing But a G Thing," with Jidenna rapping, "Rolling with the electric lady, Wondaland is the label that pays me."

Hitting notes that touched the ceiling, with one leg raised because she was "tipping on the tightrope," Monáe gave. And gave. The crowd was more than grateful. As she flowed into "Yoga," the only sign of fatigue in her aerobic show was a strand of hair that fell loose from her pompadour.

Soon, all of Wondaland was onstage, performing "Hell You Talmbout," a battle cry on behalf of victims of police brutality. The song was created, Monáe said, "because we love our people so much." All the Wondaland artists and their teams came on stage in solidarity and delivered a demand for action. They called out with passion, frustration, and obvious pain: "Aiyana Jones, say her name! John Crawford, say his name! Sandra Bland, say her name!"

"We're all on one accord, not just as Wondaland, but as black people," GianArthur said after the show. "Each time we recorded a new name, we ended up in tears," said Josh Dean, Eephus Tour artistic director.

Equal parts dissonance, serenity, and funk, it was a show with something for everybody, plus a strong message that split the plate like an Eephus pitch.

215-854-5054

@sofiyaballin