Rihanna Buff

Rihanna Redefines her Image

by Melody on December 16th, 2007

Just two years ago, the Barbadian vocalist Rihanna was playfully shimmying her way through the fluorescent-and-neon video for “Pon De Replay,” an innocuous dancehall confection about as threatening as cotton candy. It was the perfect pop lark, the kind of song that’s designed for pre-teen sleepovers and rowdy ice cream socials.

So it was a bit of a shock when Rihanna strode onstage to that song at the Nokia Theatre Times Square decked out in thigh-high lace-up boots, a black, strappy bustier, and a black leather tutu with silver studs that highlighted her finer points. This was our one-time 17-year-old sweetheart? You think you know a person.

Actually, resisting definition has been something of a guiding principle for Rihanna. Where other pop stars aim early to establish a persona - invented or otherwise - Rihanna has succeeded by remaining something of a cipher, able to apply her modest voice to a number of different milieus. She’s tinkered a bit with reggae, R&B and icy electropop without staking hard claim to any of them. This past summer, she achieved pop ubiquity with a song that was popular not so much for its chorus as for a couple of syllables - specifically, the syllables that make up the back half of its title, “Umbrella.”

That song is from her latest record, “Good Girl Gone Bad,” a phrase that explains the Bondage Goes Broadway motif. It took a long time for Rihanna to finally get to that album’s best songs, but when she did the results were scarily effective. “Shut Up and Drive,” a song that purloins the riff from New Order’s “Blue Monday,” hurtled forward on its own momentum, spurred on by growling guitars. “Breakin’ Dishes” was halting and harrowing, Rihanna slicing the word “man” into a million little pieces and spitting out each as she tiptoed across the lip of the stage. And for “Sell Me Candy,” she batted around a long leather flogger while her dancers thrust angrily against each other.

In the end, though, all of this dressing up was just costumes and props. Rihanna was no more believable as a done-up dominatrix than she was as a teenage dancehall star. And though poise and professionalism weren’t in short supply, Rihanna proved distressingly devoid of any kind of conviction. There was a sense of detachment throughout the performance that was difficult to shake. There was nothing about the material that was specific to Rihanna, and nothing to suggest the songs - and perhaps the outfits, too - couldn’t be handled just as ably by anyone else.

When the time finally came for “Umbrella,” the grim weather seemed like canny planning. A few measures into the song’s swooping introduction and the audience was gamely hoisting the titular accessory into the air. Though that maneuver probably sent the superstitious in the crowd screaming for the doors, it underscored the song’s expressions of solidarity.

Besides, why fear invisible boogeymen when you’ve got threatening stilettos and a fierce black whip?

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