Rihanna Fails To Really Do Anything Differently
Which, I Suppose, Isn’t Necessarily A Bad Thing
Rihanna
Rated R
Released on Nov 23, 2009
Because hers is the kind of voice that sounds best sampled or featured or even remixed over something fresh, I’d imagine Rihanna has trouble dispelling the reputation she’s (very rightfully) accrued as a killer add-on; as an artist whose contribution to any shitty single will secure some kind of financially measurable success. And yet, it would seem, she’s way more comfortable under the blacklight and makeup of music videos than the spotlight itself.
Before I heard or heard of or was even aware she’d put out another album, I saw Rihanna in Kanye’s video for “Paranoid” off 808s and Heartbreak. Ye’s video features flashes of a forest scene and snarling wolf and select lyrics rendered in Thriller-esque font superimposed over close-ups of a very hot Rihanna posing and writhing around in a sheer black corset and faux-driving what appears to be a cartoon car. Her performance here, as it was during Kanye’s recent Glow In The Dark tour, highlights her sublime ability to supplement, namely, that’s she’s best when not the main attraction.
Rated R isn’t another solo release as much as it seems like Rihanna’s latest attempt to distinguish herself as something other than a featured vocalist. She’s a star, for sure, but always one struggling to stand out against so many in the crowded contemporary R&B constellation. She never seems to really acclimate this new ego she (or her managers or manufacturers or whoever)’s created for herself. It’s odd because you’d expect she’d take the opportunity with Rated R to really showcase and express herself or approach center stage with the kind of bravado she brazenly unleashes on “Run This Town” or the cover of Vogue or even featuring for other artists.
So too does Rated R rely too heavily on its own cameos. “Hard” finds Rihanna asserting her hardness (you remember the Mohs mineral scale) and features Young Jeezy. Jeezy has the kind of flow that demands very little of everyone involved: you’re not paying attention for the searing political insight of Nas or the laid back swag of Jay-Z or even the in-your-face, over-the-top, inimitable genius of Wayne, instead, you’re only asked to tolerate his asinine rhymes for the duration of 16 or so bars (Disclaimer: I harbor a deep resentment of and bias against Jeezy for reasons I suspect stem from some underlying animosity towards Diddy aka P. Diddy aka Puff Daddy since at least the late 1990s [Prior to his debut with Def Jam, Young Jeezy first signed to Bad Boy with the American Southern gangsta rap quartet {which I couldn’t rephrase if I tried} Boyz n da Hood]. I distrust that sneaky sunofabitch and everything he’s done to/with the legacy of Christopher Wallace, notwithstanding Dirty Money’s “Angel,” the studio instrumental of which is, true to the act’s title, suspect money in the bank). Jeezy continues to compare himself to President Obama. I’m not sure why.
Not every guest is garbage. “Photographs” works because Will. I. Am is straight-up bonkers and delivers the exact same medium-pitch monotone as that which he adopts for his pseudonymous performance as Zuper Blahq (This is a good thing), and likely the rest of his raps, which I’ve not heard. Likewise, toward the tapering end of the tracklist, “Cold Case” stands out amid so much filler and features a subtle beatbox background, familiar from J.T.’s monster Futuresex/Lovesounds, often incorrectly labeled a Timbaland production, courtesy the Y’s (sic). The intense instrumental and even Rihanna’s off-kilter crescendo and almost improvised flutter at the end give the impression of something so much better than the rest of the album.
Rihanna’s at her finest on the album when she’s allowed to unabashedly vocalize the gorgeous notes she proves she can hit, without resorting to some gimmick or selling point or stupid excuse to make music. “Rude Boy” is pretty gangster, because it blends the best of what she’s good at: riding a dope beat and not saying too much with a chorus that’s simple and quick, catchy and mean (without meaning anything), and includes the same kind of infectious nonsense as Lady Gaga’s “Bad Romance” (who, by comparison, makes Rihanna look downright modest in her fashion-forward exploits). Also, whenever Rihanna says something like, “I like the way you touch me there / I like the way you pull my hair,” I take this quite seriously and straight to the heart and personally internalize everything she says.
This is all fine and good, but the above compose less than ¼ of the songs on Rated R, and before we get to the aforementioned gems, Rihanna provides plenty of reasons to end the album early. Unable to discern a Barbadian from Jamaican inflection, I’m more confused than anything by what’s happening in “Wait Your Turn,” she spends four minutes of R&B-infused sort of pseudo-punk reiterating her status as a “Rockstar,” attempts a little Latina ditty and, quite frankly, I just don’t trust someone like Rihanna to really tell me what it means to be “Gangster 4 Life”.
High Point
“Rude Boy,” “Photographs,” and “Cold Case”
Low Point
Every other track is just really rather mediocre.
Posted by Diego Baez on Dec 10, 2009 @ 6:30 am
