Culture Blues

Before even listening to Rated R I knew that it would be impossible to write a review about the newest Rihanna offering without mentioning Chris Brown. After listening, I find myself with my assumptions confirmed, and also feeling kind of bad for the girl. This record had to have been very difficult for Rihanna to make; it is born out of the union of domestic violence and the kind of contemporary media uber-scrutiny that Harvy Levin makes serious bank off of. Rated R is a pop record (Def Jam would have it no other way), but it's a gloomy, broken-hearted, minor chord bounce through "Da Club." The cover of Rated R says it all; the differences in theme and composition could not be more apparent, and Rihanna has emerged from her tumultuous 2009 a harder, fiercer, somewhat melancholy woman, with a record that is considerably better than you expect it to be.

It should be said off the bat that there is no track on Rated R that will reach the mind-numbing/ear-bleeding popularity of Umbrella. That being said, there are a ton of hooks and catchy tracks on the record, and Rihanna's voice has grown significantly stronger. As you would imagine, the ballads are unreal; Stupid In Love is full of the kind of candor and confessions that almost make you uncomfortable hearing them ("My new nickname / is you idiot," "I thought I saw your potential / this is what makes me dumb"), and has a bridge that sounds like a tear stained diary entry. Photographs is a song that manages to hold some kind of sincerity in spite of Will.i.am's trademark buttery, trite production, and Russian Roulette is a looming thumper with a diva worthy chorus that I actually heard my mom singing last week (a good sign of cross-over success). The most intriguing elements of Rated R to me are the "party" tracks (Rockstar 101 has a MONSTER descending synth riff and a Slash outro contribution) wherein one gets the impression that she is never really enjoying herself... a trait that oddly works to the benefit of the album, in a depressing way. Fire Bomb has a much more pronounced version of that factor; it begins with a tremoloed 5ths intro that seems as if it's going to lead to a Euro-dance-floor sweat dripper, but vanishes into a piano accompanied faux-dub stepper, only to explode into a detached and almost tacked on chorus.

This record felt a lot like the ending of Monster's Ball to me; when Hank asks Leticia if they would be alright after she found out about his involvement in the execution of her late husband, instead of answering she just stares off into space. I always felt that there was a serious amount of beauty in that sadness, and there is a sliver of that on Rated R. Which is still a pop record... It's just one that you will want to play on rainy days.