There was an exact moment when Rihanna stopped being a milquetoast pop automaton and started to establish a persona unto herself. It wasn’t “Umbrella”; however ubiquitous, that megasmash’s most meaningful and believable utterances– “ella, ella, eh, eh, eh”– meant nothing. It wasn’t February 8, 2009, when Chris Brown beat her with enough force to warrant a 50-yard, three-year restraining order; though that incident and its aftermath informs most of Rated R. And it wasn’t her piercing, uncomfortable, and ultimately valiant interview with Diane Sawyer, where she embraced her role as de facto domestic violence spokesperson with a level-headed understanding far beyond her 21 years.
On 2008’s no. 1 single “Take a Bow”, Rihanna blew off a philandering numbskull and delivered her most realistic performance to date. When she scoffed “please” at the whimpering chump 43 seconds into the track, she officially put the ice queen routine behind her and entered the realm of full-blooded pop stars. (Her newly severe, emo-boy-esque haircut seen in the song’s video did not hurt, either.) “Take a Bow” was witty, funny, and as full of attitude as kiss offs come, and Rihanna definitely sounded like she was having fun with the imagined breakup. Fallouts mark Rated R as well, though they are decidedly heavier. Over the course of the album, Rihanna puts a revolver to her temple on “Russian Roulette”, recalls “white outlines” on “Cold Case Love”, and even threatens to crash head-on into a boyfriend on “Fire Bomb”– not exactly the most politically correct metaphor in the age of IEDs, but it does get her point across. In a recent interview, Rihanna described the Rated R recording sessions as “theraputic,” and the vitriolic, rough, raw end product is about as brutal as you’d expect.
The brutality comes in two modes: sentimentally self-lacerating and superhero defiance. The bulletproof guise is good for the record’s high point on “Hard”, a strutting statement of power bolstered by a roiling undertow of a beat from “Umbrella” producer Tricky Stewart. “Brilliant/ Resilient/ Fan mail from 27 million,” huffs Rihanna, slyly acknowledging the need for such an anthem while justifying its existence. The similarly chest-thumping “Rockstar 101” and “G4L” are harder to justify considering their mindless boasts and torpid production. The more melodramatic fare is also mixed. For every “Fire Bomb”– a stunningly overzealous power ballad Pink would blow shit up for– there’s something like the actually-quite-dim “Stupid in Love” or the lost-in-translation lesbian farce “Te Amo”, both of which aim for Almodóvar but end up closer to Telemundo.
The ballads also suffer due to the fact that they require singing– which still isn’t Rihanna’s forte (tellingly, aforementioned highlight “Hard” is a near-rap with single-syllable “yeahs” for a hook). The strumming “Photographs” comes replete with teary-eyed remembrances (“all I’ve got are these photographs”) and a hint of poignant anachronism– after all, most photos are a “delete” button away from nothingness nowadays. On the track, Rihanna is more wounded than ever, her voice offering as-yet-unheard levels of tenderness. Then, just as her sorrow peaks, the track is sunk by an infuriatingly tone-deaf and goofy verse from producer will.i.am, who can be a real asshole. It’s a frustrating moment from an album pockmarked with them.
Like its lyrical themes, Rated R‘s tones are decidedly darker than anything Rihanna’s done; notably, UK dubstep producers Chase & Status provide production on a few tracks, marking a U.S. pop breakthrough for the bass-riddled genre. Specifically, the undercooked-yet-alluring “Wait Your Turn” shows promise for future dubstep crossovers, and the loping style matches Rihanna’s dourness for better and worse (see: the cartoonish tough-chick clunker “G4L”). Canned rock flourishes turn “Rockstar 101” [ft. Slash], “Russian Roulette”, and “The Last Song” into instantly-dated missteps from a bygone era when a Slash feature was cool. The Stargate-produced “Rude Boy” is the flightiest thing here, a club trifle that would fit snugly on 2007’s Good Girl Gone Bad. It also trumps much of the album’s “riskier” material.
Talking about Rated R in a promo interview, Rihanna said, “Anybody can make a hit, but I wanted a real album.” Such is the flawed logic of a newly legal drinker who has known only skyrocketing commercial success. While the singer is trying to accentuate her individuality and independence with this album, the “dark” and/or “mature” LP is nothing new– from Janet Jackson’s The Velvet Rope to Christina Aguilera’s Stripped to Kelly Clarkson’s My December, the rebel record is now a de rigeur coming-of-age maneuver. Based on Rated R, Rihanna’s artistic aspirations are currently loftier than her abilities. Then again, her tenacity in the face of the unimaginable public humiliation this year is beyond brave. For a while, Rihanna lacked a compelling narrative but couldn’t yawn without hitting the Top 10. Now her story is overflowing, but her songs aren’t sticking as they once did. Not just anybody can make a hit, and no one can make hits all the time.
— Ryan Dombal, December 2, 2009