Talk That Talk

"We found love in a hopeless place." Over a frantic, Calvin Harris-produced, Guetta-meets-"Sandstorm" beat on her sixth record's lead-off single, Rihanna repeats these words almost 20 times. "We Found Love" ranks among Ri's best singles because it recognizes that there's not much more that needs to be said: in three and a half minutes, the line moves from being a great pop lyric to a triumphant mantra to something suggestive of a whole spectrum of unspoken emotion. The best pop music transports you to somewhere beyond words, and Rihanna's strongest singles all seem to be in on this secret. Need I remind you of some of her most powerful hooks: Ella-ella-ella-ay. Oh-na-na. Ay-ayy-ay-ayy-ay-ayy.

But as anyone with a Twitter handle will tell you, these are chatty times, and in 2011, the pop landscape's fittingly caught between two maximalist extremes: the winking theatricality of Nicki Minaj, Lady Gaga, and Katy Perry, and the dribbling confessional-pop of Drake, Kanye West, and (yes, they're more alike than they'd like to believe) Taylor Swift. Barbados-born, millions-selling, armfuls-of-awards-winning Rihanna has found staggering success (23 years old; eleven #1 singles and rising) borrowing a little bit from each of these tendencies. Her recent music videos have dabbled in trendy pop artifice (check out her neon-hued, irresistibly smiley turn in Guetta’s "Who’s That Chick?" or the David LaChapelle-aping-- literally-- "S&M"), while her brooding and personal 2009 album Rated R commented-- however obliquely-- on her public struggles. Rihanna seems more comfortable flitting between these two extremes than settling on either, but her past two albums have at least had some thematic cohesion. The same can't be said of Talk That Talk: Heavy on filler though it's only 11 tracks long, it feels not only slight but muddled, an assortment of half-baked ideas that never bloom. A stitched-together collection of club bangers, sleaze-pop missteps, and mid-tempo inspirational ballads, Talk That Talk feels at times like three different records, only one of which might have been any good.

Of course, what we're supposed to be talking is about how this is Rihanna's "dirtiest" album yet. Early blog chatter reported to lots of critics blushing in preview listening sessions and making questionably bold declarations ("The dirtiest pop album since Madonna's Erotica!") that suggested that they listen to very little pop radio, or that they have never been to an R. Kelly concert. Talk That Talk's raunchier moments should surprise no one: Rihanna's always been singing about sex-- she's just never shown such an unfortunate proclivity for cheesy lyrics and dessert metaphors. "Suck my cockiness/ Lick my persuasion," Ri commands on the embarrassingly literal "Cockiness (I Love It)", hoping the boldness of the delivery will distract you from thinking about what a clunky line it is (it won't, though Bangladesh's beats might). The Esther Dean-penned "Drunk on Love" features a weak chorus lyric and vocal whose bombast feels out of place in the track's laid back, xx-sampling atmosphere. Clocking in at a puzzling-yet-merciful one minute and 18 seconds, The-Dream co-produced "Birthday Cake" is even more heavy-handed (lots of icing puns). There are flickers of empowerment here, but mostly it proves little more than the fact that a female artist can be responsible for Jeremih-grade cheese, too. A Rihanna album has never been without the occasional lyrical misfire ("Sex in the air/ I don't care/ I love the smell of it" comes to mind), but at least on a track like "S&M" she sounds like she's having fun. For a record so preoccupied with passion and pleasure, most of Talk That Talk feels unsuitably robotic.

At least things start out strong. Talk That Talk's saving grace is its first stretch of tracks: the blithe and tropical "You Da One", "We Found Love", and the album's other Harris track "Where Have You Been", which doesn't stray much from the single's winning formula, a simple lyric of romantic longing that explodes into a club-ready beat. And though it's no "Umbrella", the Jay-Z reunion "Talk That Talk" is one of the more playful moments here, though I'll say that the patented H.O.V.-giggle doesn't feel entirely earned following a line like: "Had it by a bladder/ She like 'oh I gotta pee'."

I've read some comment-section conspiracy theorists who believe Rihanna is in single-minded pursuit of Hot 100 domination, and the rate at which she's pumping out albums (roughly one a year since 2005) is an attempt to populate the singles chart until the end of time. There might be some truth to this (her singles collection is going to be killer), and with "Death of the Album" prophecies ever looming it's worth wondering whether or not that's such a crime. But 2011 found plenty of pop artists still breathing new life into the format: Beyonce's 4 and Lady Gaga's Born This Way were probably the most solid examples-- two bombastic records that also explore the nuance of their respective artists' personas. Talk That Talk tries too hard to send a more one-dimensional message and ends up falling flat: Rihanna's obviously going for sexy here, but her music's at its most alluring when she's blissed out in her own reverie, not taking the time to spell it all out for us.