2013 Doesn’t Count Because Rihanna Didn’t Release an Album

by Ernest Baker

What’s a year without a Rihanna album? For close to a decade, we haven’t known one. Since 2005, she’s inundated the masses with an enjoyably suffocating demonstration of reliably provocative yet consumer friendly pop, and that relentlessness has paid off well.

This week, Rihanna’s total album sales in America hit the 10 million mark. That brings her worldwide tally to around 50 million, not to mention the 180 million singles sold that make her the biggest digital artist of all time. The statistics are telling, but her real impact is harder to quantify: Rihanna occupies a substantial space in our culture, and after eight years of consistent releases, any amount of time in which she doesn’t give us new music feels comparatively vacant. Even in 2013, a year with a particularly high concentration of marquee music releases, we could feel her absence.

At yesterday’s American Music Awards, Rihanna was honored with the ceremony’s first ever Icon Award, and it makes sense that the distinction was created solely for her. Listen to some of the pop music that’s out right now — Katy Perry’s Prism, Lorde’s Pure Heroine, Miley Cyrus’ Bangerz, and even Lady Gaga’s widely panned Artpop all have their respective triumphs, but there’s still a glaring hole in the landscape of contemporary mainstream efforts.

Rihanna’s strengths come from an uncompromised vision married to unparalleled execution. Even though she plays a minimal role in the writing and production of her music, it’s obvious that she makes records she wants to make, and that her instincts are dead-on. She exists in a self-created sweet spot, somewhere between bubblegum appeal and critical acclaim, and it’s one that that other artists can’t really replicate. She’s captivatingly sincere; her brash behavior never seems like a product of manufactured, iconoclastic posturing. While some pop stars poke and prod at the nerves of the masses with calculated controversies, Rihanna provokes simply by existing.

For many of us, Rihanna records are attached to experiences of personal exaltation. If you say the peak of your New Year’s Eve celebration two years ago didn’t revolve around “We Found Love,” you’re probably lying. Your mother may hate everything you listen to, but you belted “Umbrella” together six summers ago. We’re so comfortable with her voice expressing our wants and desires that there’s a dearth when she’s not around to do it. We’re addicts.

Still, Rihanna’s “disappearance” this year hasn’t actually been much of one. The Diamonds World Tour spanned 96 shows across five continents. Three of the five Unapologetic singles she released this year charted in the Top 40. All she has to do to generate gossip headlines is exchange direct messages with Lily Allen or post a smoky Instagram shot. She won a Grammy. She starred in an A$AP Rocky video. Her abject boredom at the VMAs was more rock star than the performance everyone talked about. She covered British GQ’s 25th anniversary issue. She’s featured on Eminem’s “The Monster,” the current No. 2 song on the Billboard Hot 100. But none of it feels like enough. Solo music is central to her allure.

While a full-length from Rihanna promises a fair amount of quality pop numbers, songs themselves are expendable. As long as good records are coming from somewhere, listeners are pacified. In Rihanna’s case, we miss what she stands for more than the music. The content within Rihanna’s albums is certainly a valuable commodity, but it’s more essential as an abstraction — what is the word for how we feel when we’re singing “ella, ella, ella” in the shower, after all? — and that’s why this year’s lack of it is so salient.

When Rihanna has an album out, it serves as a challenge to the traditional autonomy so strongly associated with pop music. The songs may fit a mold vaguely similar to options offered by others in the genre, but her persona is fiercely divergent from anything else in the territory. She balances spectacle with a sense of the ambitious organic: the same way Michael Jackson’s larger-than-life image felt conscious but never forced, even though he was keenly aware of his impact. There’s an authenticity and charm to Rihanna’s recklessness. She’s a woman who pushes the boundaries of image because she has no personal use for or belief in them, not because she has to in order to shock or assert relevance. No meat dresses. No foam fingers.

It’s time for Rihanna to return to unimpeachable pop excellence. No one else can do it. Taylor Swift does everything perfectly, too much so. We all want new material from Nicki Minaj, but there were enough stellar guest verses from her this year to suffice. Beyoncé’s new album is so delayed it’s not even clear if she wants the throne anymore, and Selena Gomez and Miley Cyrus spent the year releasing cuts of the songs Rihanna likely turned down.

For Rihanna, 2013 is akin to when Michael Jordan took nearly two years off from playing basketball to swing a bat in the minor leagues. What she does to attract our interest next will be like the night he scored 55 points in Madison Square Garden: If a season doesn’t end in victory, it’s likely deliberate. Ultimately, we know she’s going to get another ring.

Previously: Nicki Minaj Murdered You On Your Own Shit: The Guest Verse as Social Justice

Ernest Baker is a writer living in Los Angeles. He’s the rare case of a sensitive thug who doesn’t need hugs.