I could possibly be banned from expressing an opinion on the internet for what I’m about to say, but I’m going to say it anyway: I don’t care if Rihanna never releases music again.
This maybe isn't as bold of a declaration as I’m making it seem. However, online discussions about the Barbadian singer over the past few years have routinely come in two flavors: punctuated with the same-old desperate inquiry (BUT WHERE IS THE ALBUM???) or a dig at her pivot to a full-time businesswoman (“avon lady”).
Likewise, when Rihanna headlined the Super Bowl Halftime Show this past Sunday, fans anticipated some sort of digital drop a la Beyonce, or even a tour announcement. Instead, Rihanna gave viewers a stacked-but-barely exhaustive setlist of her greatest hits and collaborations (sans the collaborators) over her nearly 20-year career. And the next day, she told Good Morning America that she didn’t “have any updates” on when she would release new music.
The whole thing felt like another incident of the 34-year-old feeding long-suffering fans crumbs instead of a full meal. But at this point, I argue that we should just take them.
Despite being a Rihanna fan, I’ve never identified with the passionate camp of people constantly pestering her for new music. (I honestly can’t tell if it’s a compulsory joke at this point, or if folks are legitimately starved.) These calls began too early, in my opinion, following her eighth album ANTI in 2016. Only a couple years out from the project, I recall people on social media and friends of mine acting like she had gone into an abnormally long period of hibernation, as opposed to taking some much-needed time-off. Blame it on Rihanna’s reputation for churning out full bodies of work, standalone singles, and successful collaborations year after year, I guess.
Almost seven years later, I’m still savoring that album and finding a new lyric, inflection, or transition to enjoy. I particularly love hearing her sing the lyrics “I got to do things my own way, darlin’/ you should just let me/ why you will never let me grow?” on the opening, SZA-assisted track “Consideration.” Like many of the lyrics on the album, you can apply Rihanna’s exhaustion with a lover to the insatiable nature of fandom. ANTI, as a result, feels more like an open meditation on celebrity and public expectations than anything she’s previously put out—hence my nonchalance at the prospect of ANTI being Rihanna’s final LP. It’s a pitch-perfect and thematically apt note to end on.
This is why I’m all for Rihanna casually dismissing everyone’s demands to get back into the studio. From the responses she’s given the public over the possibility of new music, I gather she’s still figuring out the direction of career and hasn’t made a firm decision yet. (Or maybe she has, and she’s getting a kick out of keeping fans on the edge of their seats.)
As someone who enjoys saying no to things, I also just think quitting any job or hobby that no longer brings you joy is perfectly acceptable, even quite radical. Unfortunately, Rihanna’s alternative to making music and seeming source of happiness these days is making billions of dollars selling foundation and hideous lingerie. In her time as a certified business mogul, her brands, including Fenty Beauty and Savage x Fenty, have been accused of implementing child labor and deceptive marketing, despite all the positive attention these companies receive for being inclusive. Most recently, she used her annual Savage x Fenty fashion show to give alleged domestic abuser Johnny Depp a platform, following his highly publicized trial with ex-wife Amber Heard.
This isn’t the sort of defiant and awe-inspiring pivot I envisioned for my girl, who's been working her ass off since she was a teen and has consistently suffered misogynistic and racist treatment from the public. Her abandonment of music is likely more financially driven, as singers make little off of streaming, rather than some spiritual endeavor. I assume her recent motherhood is playing a role too. But I’ll take some inspiration from a fabulous celebrity where I can find it.
Maybe the main reason I’m so pro-retirement is that Rihanna has given us a lifetime of work to consume over and over again and continually reassess. Her Halftime Show setlist hardly scratched the surface of her best-selling tracks, guest appearances, and beloved deep cuts—if you can even apply that phrase to Rihanna’s discography. It’s not even just that there’s a lot to listen to, but the replay value is also endless.
I’m also a proponent of slow, repetitive music consumption. I love digging through artists’ catalogs like a fun research project and uncovering new layers and themes to a person’s work. There’s a lot to mine about celebrity, the pop industry, gender, and sexuality in Rihanna’s catalog, in particular. (I’d recommend revisiting Rated R, which came swiftly after her public domestic abuse case with Chris Brown and spurred only a couple hits, or her debut Music Of The Sun, which has the heaviest dancehall influence.) I suggest spending your time wondering about an album date getting reacquainted with her brilliance instead.
