I feel like the only place really suited for MNDR is a stadium, on a bill between Rihanna and Gwen Stefani. I feel like she’s the people’s Rihanna, up from jazz dork to glam dazzle. She whipped her glasses off accidentally and played it off as a dance move and everyone cheered.

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MNDR is Amanda Warner, who has voyaged from Portland to Minneapolis to Oakland to Brooklyn, along the way studying jazz bass at Macalester College, backing Sean “Har Mar Superstar” Tillman in his project Sean Na Na, playing winsome, toothy indietronica with Triangle, and wrecking brains in the Bay Area art-rave scene. Now she’s making a go of it as a solo act: she’s both producer and singer of MNDR’s authoritative and approachable experimental club music, and she’s formidable on both fronts. She makes seamless, studied bump, with plenty of fuzzed-out artful bits that underscore rather than obscure her hooks; she’s sort of like Diplo and the Missing Persons’ Dale Bozzio rolled into one. YACHT headlines; MNDR and Bobby Birdman open.

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