If Supa Dupa Fly is a slow, deep toke and Da Real World is a series of liquor-tinged breaths through clenched teeth, Missy Elliott’s third album is the kind of euphoric hyperventilating that usually takes MDMA to fully experience. The key is the intersection of the Missy/Timbaland musical partnership respectively going out of their heads with what could be characterized as innovators’ hubris, or would be if there was any evidence they were more conceited than it all warranted. Instead, their most outlandish ideas stick with you because they’re sincerely committed to at a level that even the most self-aware successor-gen hyperpopper has yet to pull off without a wink or an asterisk. What else to make of “Get Ur Freak On,” where Missy leaves no syllable perfunctory and Timbaland transplants turbo-bhangra into drum’n’bass’s “Amen” break backbone? And that’s just the biggest conflagration in one of the most explosively front-loaded rap/R&B/club/ur-groove records of its decade, where you also have to contend with a dose of brazenly libidinous Meth-and-Red-laced post-disco (“Dog In Heat”), a barrage of mutant-junglist dance beats that split the difference between ’95 Metalheadz and ’75 Junie Morrison (“Scream a.k.a. Itchin’”), the most funkily disorienting retrofitting of an Israeli folk tune imaginable (“Lick Shots”), and the giddy sex-marathon demand “One Minute Man,” where the “g” in g-funk stands for galactic. There’s gold in the deep cuts, too, like the Eve-featuring, brain-throbbing analog-oid house jam “4 My People” that sounds almost as much like Basement Jaxx as Basement Jaxx’s actual remix did. An album so ahead of its time that the early ’80s boogie throwback “Old School Joint” still makes Silk Sonic sound mannered by comparison, Miss E… So Addictive thrives because its architects sound so liberated — artistically, budgetarily, sexually, narcotically, you name it — by the possibilities of a better future we’re still waiting for.