Beyoncé’s new visual album “Lemonade,” released on HBO late on Saturday and causing paroxysms of rapture across the Internet ever since, has been called many things, among them: an ode to “female solidarity,” a portrait of “Southern gothic empowerment,” “an emotional odyssey,” “a love letter to black women” and a series of “fashion statements.” Which of these things is not like the others? If you guessed the last, you are correct. Though Fashion (capital F) has been trying to claim Beyoncé since, well, forever, she is not its creature, and this album proves it. It is the anti-Coachella: the opposite of a musical event leeched of meaning by branded commercial enterprises. Indeed, it crushes branded commercial enterprises under its powerful feet.