mixtape maestro (2.0)

Following all that ’09 Grammy night/ Chris Brown mess, it was quite understandable why Rihanna would want to publicly present herself as this non-victim by giving people the dark, edgy and violence-obsessed tough girl-posturing that dominates Rated R. However, four months after it’s initial release, very little of Rated R really lingers in the brain on the same level as previous smashes “Pon De Replay”, “SOS”, “Umbrella” or “Don’t Stop The Music”, making us wish that Rihanna would’ve found a better way to marry her sudden stab at “maturity” with the sticky pop-craft that made her such an omnipresent Billboard chart force for so many years.

In other words, we would of appreciated more entries like “Rude Boy”.

Opposed to preceding Rated R singles “Russian Roulette” and “Hard”, which both, in a way, strained too…well, hard to paint Rihanna under a serious, “I’m a grown ass woman now” light, “Rude Boy”‘s attempt at separating the singer from her mostly teenybop-oriented past registers more effective because it subtly weaves it’s “adult” tendencies in while keeping in mind the reasons the singer became a household name in the first place. So while we get wink-wink taunts of “Can you get it up?” and “Is you big enough?” alerting us to the fact that we’re not dealing with the same Rihanna of years past, we also get nods to the singer’s bubblegummy rhythmic-pop roots, whether in the clubby, island-pop production (re-triggering memories of her early career output) or the track’s use of the same echoing syllable hook gimmick that stapled “Umbrella-ella-ella-ay-ay-ay” to millions of listeners’ brains (The masses seem to agree, as, this week, “Rude Boy” became Rated R‘s first [and likely last] Hot 100 No. 1).

BONUS DL: “Rude Boy (Ted Smooth Remix)” (alt)

Well damn, that was fast.

In record time, Rihanna’s underwhelming “comeback” single “Russian Roulette” has already spawned a remix. And to be honest, if we had heard this version, featuring a “killer” (heh) intro sixteen from Kardinal Offishall, first, we would have had better things to say about the record initially.

“Russian roulette/ My name’s written on your bullet/ Hollow points pointing at your heart/ Gwan, pull it!” the Canadian emcee opens, his voice adding an exciting new layer of menace to the track’s other ominous goings-on, and, like magic, instantly upgrading the track from so-so likable to a hot new favorite (which is quite a feat seeing as though we would have probably had the opposite reaction if Jay-Z’s portion on “Umbrella” hadn’t arrived until a few days after that record premiered, so bravo KO!!).

If radio attaches itself to this take, we definitely won’t mind having to hear it’s joy-sapping doom-and-gloom spew from our speakers over and over again.

DL: “Russian Roulette (Remix)” (alt)

After spending a large part of 2009 having to deal with the embarrassment of having everyone know (and freely share their opinions and concerns) about a certain Grammy night ordeal, you would think that Rihanna, one of the decade’s top singles artist, would deliver an upbeat fourth album lead-off single that was all shades of game-changing kick-ass to succinctly remind the masses of how she really became a household name in the first place.

Instead, as the first taste of the November-set Rated R, Ri-Ri has oddly chosen to give us a Ne-Yo co-penned ballad that utilizes the title “Russian Roulette” as a metaphor for taking a chance on love over a backing track that’s all intense and menacing, with rolled dice (or is that the crackle of a barrel turning?) and gun shot sound effects thrown in to add more oomph to it’s darkened moodiness.

We’ll give “Roulette” a few points for effectively illustrating the tense stand-off between the song’s two lovers, with a relentless heartbeat-like drum stomp and the occasionally haunting lyric (“…And then I get a scary thought/ That he’s here means he’s never lost”) doing enough to bring about a couple of arm goosebumps. But following the first few curious listens, it’s spooky intrigue fades, exposing it for the largely lackluster “comeback” it is.

Put simply, if we wanted noir-ish ambiance from Rihanna right now, we’d revisit her and Ne-Yo’s previous single collaboration “Unfaithful”; for goth-toned pop, we’d rather give “Disturbia” a re-spin (and if we wanted gun shot-accented R&B, Lloyd’s “Pusha” would be the ticket).

“Russian Roulette” is okay (in a third or fourth single kind of way), but as the first solo thing to emerge from the singer following all that Chris Brown drama, releasing an eardrum-rupturing club-pop confection (possibly about how much angry lil’ ex-boyfriends suck) would have been far more appreciated.

Rated R arrives November 23rd.

“Russian Roulette”:

After letting Jigga’s A-list-assisted “Run This Town” marinate in our brains for nearly a month now, and after finally seeing the entirety of it’s long-teased, “What in the ‘California Love’/ ‘We Don’t Need Another Hero’ Hell?”-themed accompanying video clip, we have now decided to officially stick with our initial reaction of the record: It’s…just…okay.

Since busting out of his retirement all those years ago, Jay has built a steadily growing catalogue of records (both as lead and as guest star) that puff up a lot of hype simply via his attached name, but just as soon fail to merit much long-lasting appeal beyond their highly-anticipated release. We should have gotten used to this anti-climactic routine long ago, but what can we say, he’s arguably the G (Living Emcee). O. A. T. and we long to hear him justify that honor over and over.

More so than a lot of other material in recent memory though, high hopes had fallen on “Run This Town” (who could deny that exciting title, or the sheer collective weight of the top-of-the-game artists upon it?), so it’s only more of a shame that, in the end, it lands as just another meh notch in Jay’s increasingly dissapointing belt.

Atop producers Kanye and No I.D.’s dramatically buzzing electric guitar sting and heavy-thudding drum march rumble, Jay and Ri-Ri commit performances that remain boringly on par with their previously well-established artistic angles. His raps are admittedly slick but carrying little “hip hop head” value, offering more eye-roll-inducing references to his bulging bank account and knowledge of high fashion folk; she continues to be the fiercest dead-eyed yodeller around in a chorus that feels twice as long with all of it’s non-catchy, street-anthem self-seriousness.

Kanye is the only one to really make this cut worthwhile, which comes as no surprise given the fact that well…he’s Kanye, and that he’s proven to be good at making these joyless, un-dance-able hip hop arrangements crackle like any other major Hot 97 banger in the past (remember “Diamonds From Sierra Leone”?). His ending verse overflows with the wit and imagination severely lacking everywhere else here, from the opening “Joe Blow/ no homo” couplet on down, which, in our heads, brings about many burning questions, like:

A) Wouldn’t it have been smarter if his verse have been placed second, to help keep cats from switching this one off early, as we assume most have by now since “Town” began infiltrating radio?

B) After hearing West’s portion, didn’t Jay feel a need to upgrade his own parts?

C) Why couldn’t Kanye have just kept this one for himself, given us an added entertaining verse and just reduced Jigga’s role to a single sixteen?

Like everyone else, we’ll still be first in line (or, more likely in 2009, on-line) to cop The Blueprint 3 when it arrives (besides, we can’t miss that Drake feature!!!), but, and we SWEAR by this, if this ends up another “one-listen-than-quit-and-wait-for-all-the-other-rappers-to-rock-it’s-instrumentals-right” affair, we’ll have to…have to…hell, sit around and wait for the next Jay-Z project to drop so we can get all overly excited all over again. Damn you Jay!!!

Pre-order Blueprint 3 here.

“Live Your Life”‘s lyrical encouragement to not let all the negativity cramp your style was nice and all, but let’s not be foolish. The main source of this record’s appeal had little to do with T.I.’s positive spewings and all to do with Rihanna’s ice queen warbles, the larger-than-life pop production and that damn “Dragostea din tei” sample.

So with that being said, it’s not all that surprising that with a lacking of all those aforementioned elements, garage-pop-ster Just Jack‘s recent Live Lounge acoustic cover of the tune falls a bit flat (or maybe it’s simply because his consonant-omitting accent just feels totally awkward in place of T.I.’s fluid flow).

Psst…anybody else feel a need to hear some Steve Miller Band’s “The Joker” now after those guitar bits…or is that just us?

DL: “Live Your Life (TI Cover)” (alt)

Rihanna and her “Umbrella” songwriter The-Dream prove their golden pop chemistry still stands on their newest collaboration “Hating On The Club”, a future radio dominator that slides with ease into the ears with it’s playful hand claps, relentless drum thump base and tinge of doo wop air, not to mention it’s involving of another successful dose of single-syllable stutters.

“Now this will be the last time you did me wrong/ No more laying up in your arms,” Ri-Ri snaps. But this isn’t some hard-as-nails anti-guy anthem, it’s celestial synth washes and pretty piano touches instigating a far more sentimental affair. Hit with the grapevine gab that her beau was seen smooching with another gal outside a nightspot, her initial anger-fueled instinct is to start packing bags, but that immediate stint of ire just as soon dissolves into an epic emotional breakdown, leaving her lashing out not necessarily at her philandering man, but instead at the club, for being the crux that so suddenly snatched all her “happily ever after” dreams away.

“There’s only one reason why we’re apart/…If it wasn’t for the club I’d still have my love,” she, somewhat foolishly, reasons through her tears and stiff “Oh-Oh” android-whimpers.

Damn Rihanna, we were kinda looking forward to finally falling out of love with you and your oh-so-perfect pop-crafting ways in this new year, yet your dumbfounding hold over us remains.

DL: “Hating On The Club” (alt)

Peep cuts from her newest release, Good Girl Gone Bad: The Remixes, below:

T.I. and Ri-Ri’s “Live Your Life” might not have yet reached that point where if you hear it again you’ll shoot yourself in the head, but it’s coming dangerously close. Enter Dallas Austin, who thanks to this beefier remix of the chart-topper, pushes that imminent moment a little further in the future.

With heavy drums and blaring synths, this “turn it up to 11″ take pushes “Life” to stadium-size proportions (which, honestly, is only slightly bigger than every other T.I. single).

DL: “Live Your Life” (alt)

In the midst of a huge media blitz to advertise the release of her well-awaited Good Girl Gone Bad LP, Rihanna’s monolithic summertime banger “Umbrella” gets a revamping from fellow R&B star Chris Brown in this so-corny-it-actually-works basement constructed “remix”.

Already earning major spins, a rare coup for something that sounds so obviously bootleg, Chris Brown twists the chanty hook into a new chorus (“You can be my Cinderella-ella-ella-ay-ay-ay”) in this geeky fanboy reply. As captivated with the Barbados beauty as the rest of us, Brown borrows T-Pain’s vocoder (an annoying trend that needs to die like yesterday) as he sings to her poster on his bedroom wall (“You’re becoming a dream to me/ A fairy tale fantasy/ Nothing can never compare/ An image to my memory”). What doesn’t compare is his overenthusiastic vocal to her dry, distant tone, but when their choruses start interplaying and Brown throws his own ad-libs into the mix, the awkward blending really starts to resonate and we get an entire new reason to pump “Umbrella” again and again.

If Rihanna wasn’t a smart cookie and already moving on to future great singles, this could’ve made for a cool video. Maybe he could cut and paste himself into her clip the same way he did to her song, doing headstands and boogaloo pops to help her deflect those damn water streams. Though we could do without him posing naked in silver paint.

Chris Brown – Umbrella (Remix) – Chris Brown Feat. Rihanna

Robbing the same folk & b soundscape as another Timbaland produced joint (JT’s “What Goes Around”) and sharing the same title as one the best singles of the decade, Rihanna’s “Rehab” has too many strikes against it to be judged as highly as the rest of her outlandishly good output, but damn does she win again with another great set of lyrics in her already bulging, quote-heavy arsenal.

It’s been a minute since we had a good heartbroken/ drug addict pop metaphor to latch onto and while it lacks the greasy imagery of Pink’s “Just Like A Pill”, “Rehab” works as a well-written runner-up. It’s rolling melodicism supporting the tear-streaked, lost-in-love poetry, “Rehab” finds Rihanna torturously replaying the scenes of a recent romance in her head, wishing there was some way she could do it all over again a different way over gently cascading acoustic guitar strums, beat-box percussion and Timbaland’s usual ghostly ad-lib support. It seems another Not-Prince-Charming (he was like her lover and best friend “all wrapped up into one with a ribbon on it”) has taken her heart and left her in a less-than-attractive crazed state of mind. Taking on chain smoking and breaking into cold sweats at just the thought of him not being near her, Rihanna wants to break from this un-healthy cycle, but just as strongly knows that if he was to knock on her door within the next five minutes, she would gladly let him re-enter her life.

“It’s like I checked in rehab/ And baby, you’re my disease” the hook dryly states, as if to confirm that she’s been reduced to a soul-sapped, walking zombie. For whatever reason (maybe she’s too young to understand that some songs require personality to sell it) Rihanna has always approached her songs in the same ice-cold, detached way. Though the intention is likely not as calculated as would like to believed, such a robotic vocal style is what makes her uptempo cuts sparkle and her ballads take on an oft-putting allure (remember the cold-hearted adulteress conveyed on “Unfaithful”?). Here, her distance captures the “Rehab” character’s blank-faced hollowness well.

Download: “Rehab” (Amazon)

Will this girl ever stop putting out the kind of tracks that are getting bloggers finger cramps from type-hyping them up so? As the release of her highly anticipated third album nears, Rihanna is winning praise everywhere as the singles artist to beat right now and with hot cuts being leaked left and right, her streak won’t be ending anytime soon.

“Don’t Stop The Music” once again finds Rihanna cleverly referencing past pop nuggets (in this case Michael Jackson’s classic Thriller opener “Wanna Be Startin’ Something”) to further her own hipster-adored status. Working the kind of insistent dance thump usually found in raves, “…Music” throbs with ecstatic synth pulses, repeated hooks and anthemic handclaps signalling the kind of party that doesn’t end until the crack of dawn. Overwhelmed by the druggy push and pull of the club DJ’s playlist, Rihanna throws away all inhibitions, grabbing that cute guy she was peeping across the room and forcing him on the dancefloor for them to dry-hump their way into disco ecstacy.

Her tropical accent is less pronounced here, but her sly intonation (stress-ing ev-er-y syll-a-ble like this) once again becomes the magical ingredient to establishing yet another irresistible tune. Meanwhile, Jackson’s signature “whoo-hoos” echo faintly in the mix, emerging more and more into the forefront until Rihanna can’t help but break into one of his most beloved idiosyncratic tongues: “Mama say mama sa ma ma ku sa” like some ancient Swahili phantom has suddenly taken control over her soul.

Who woulda thunk that the cutesy, Black Barbie doll who invaded our speakers with the dancehall-lite novelty “Pon De Replay” only a scant two summers ago would become one of the major leaders in contemporary pop?

Download: “Don’t Stop The Music” (Amazon)