To the apparent surprise of many of his readers, Robert Christgau posted a rather positive review of Rihanna’s latest album Talk That Talk on his Expert Witness blog two weeks ago. In the comments section, several of Christgau’s fans complained of how R.’s music is beyond terrible because 1. it is hopelessly derivative of other, better music, and, 2. tracks such as “Cockiness” and “Birthday Cake” are too overtly sexual to be of any aesthetic value. Me, I immediately put “Cockiness” and “Birthday Cake” on repeat because I find them both exhilarating on a formal level, and, truth be told, crass sex talk doesn’t really bother me very much, especially when said sex talk includes puns and wordplay. So I posted a rundown of musical events in “Cockiness” that I find particularly meaningful, and I presented my analysis in the best way I know how: via terms and methods associated with academic musicology. Here’s an excerpt:
I have a particular skill set, and music like “Cockiness” and “Cry Me a River” and “A Milli”–to choose three seemingly unrelated songs–make my brain get a buzz on in a way that I don’t read about too often. I streamed “Cockiness” for a third time today just to see if its novelty had worn off, but I still totally love it. I typed some notes as I listened, and here’s the cleaned up version:
The first thing I love is the 3 against 4 “chop. chop. chop.” sample that underlies much of the song; you notice it most when it is left unadorned right at the end. I love when producers do this at the ends of songs–Timbaland does the same thing with “Cry Me a River,” when he strips away each layer near the end to reveal the song’s astonishing, effortless complexity. I also love the fanfare horns and the “YOU!” samples that punctuate the lyrics in the pre-chorus.
Another fun surprise is the song’s structure. When you map it out, it’s not like, “wow, such complexity!” But where the different parts fall in the series compliments the whole brilliantly. It opens with a brief intro, then we get the main refrain, a verse with killer call and response in R.’s trademark vocal effect, a “pre-chorus” with the aforementioned horns and “YOU!,” and then the “I love it when you eat it” before returning to the refrain again to repeat the sequence. Then we get a bridge or “development,” then pre-chorus, “love it,” and outro breakdown. Each piece is very different, but each also fits together with the whole perfectly, and with harmony that is never actually performed; it is only suggested by the melody. Listen close and there is very little toned music aside from the voices, some of the sound effects, the “chop.” sample, and the toned bass drum. Which is kind of like “Single Ladies,” but with elements that sound less disparate to these ears. It reminds me more of “A Milli.”
I didn’t intend my post to stir up too much controversy, but it did, and the subsequent debate concerning the value and assumptions of such formal analyses of music was compelling and valuable if you enjoy discussing aesthetics. On Christgau’s blog, readers are able to thumb up or thumb down comments if they wish, and within a few minutes I had already earned a thumb down. I expected a few of these, but what I didn’t expect is for Christgau himself to immediately, and sharply, criticize the aforementioned thumb bomber, calling him or her “a know-nothing and an imbecile.” In a later post he explained that what I had written could not be refuted with just a simple thumb-bomb: that he believed my formal discussion of favorite musical events was a list of facts, and that—as long as they are accurate—could therefore not be disagreed with.
Just as compellingly, however, the thumb-bomber in question, who goes by the handle Jackson Cage, fessed up to his crime and subsequently wrote a strong defense of his opinion. He complained that my post was arrogant because of how I introduced myself as a musicologist with special skills—a detail I included so as to justify my inclusion of a potentially controversial formal analysis (see Not. Milo. Miles. post for an explanation). Jackson C., however, thought I was simply showing off how I could complete an intellectual task I expected others were not intelligent enough to do on their own, which irritated him. But, ultimately, he seemed most frustrated by how my analysis did not add up to anything of value—that I simply stated information about the song rather than actually cracking open the song’s meaning and larger value. At first I disagreed with this—I explained that the musical events create musical meaning in and of themselves, and that the matter needn’t be elaborated upon further. “Sometimes sounds are pretty when put together in a clever manner,” was the extent of my reasoning. And I left it at that.
But now I think Jackson Cage’s criticism pointed out a serious flaw in my reasoning, and now I agree my analysis was indeed missing something important. I was making too broad of an assumption concerning musical meaning and how that meaning is produced in my mind grapes. Though I still believe the formal elements in R.’s song are what arouse my cranium’s spongy head, I don’t think it’s just the confluence of these events that provides for me such a reaction—by which I mean that it takes more than just the impressive and efficient combination of musical ideas to excite me as much as this song does.
For example, in contrast, Elliott Smith’s “Waltz #2 (XO)” provides me with a similar intellectual stimulation because of how thrillingly the formal elements of it fit together and make up the larger composition. That buzz, however, is not as enjoyable to me as the one I get from “Cockiness,” and I don’t think it’s because “Cockiness” is the more formally advanced recording (though it may be). Beyond formal invention, “Cockiness” also provides the listener with more of the joy and exhilaration of the act of creation than “Waltz #2,” and perhaps that joy is what is so infectious for the listener who comprehends such formal elements. In contrast, though the Smith recording is just as formally meticulous and perfectly rendered, I find it impresses the listener with its precision and invention rather than encouraging the listener to participate in the thrill of the creative act. In other words, I find that the Rihanna recording encourages listeners to participate in the joy of clever composition, whereas the Smith merely asks us to marvel at it. For example, when I hear “Cockiness,” I envision everyone involved in the recording studio taking a victory lap and sharing high-fives. For “Waltz #2,” I expect there was more likely just a round of grins and maybe some positive nodding. Both responses are valuable, of course, but “Cockiness” gets the edge because I prefer to participate rather than to only marvel. (All of that said, perhaps “Cockiness” is the better song because it’s more fun, but I don’t even want to begin unpacking that line of reasoning.)
So, in summary, the formal elements I provided in my analysis are ultimately meaningful to me because of how they coalesce in Rihanna’s “Cockiness,” which, again, for me, reproduces the joy and excitement of the act of creation. And this is possible, in this instance, because the components of this particular musical artifact are presented in a manner that the sensitive ear can easily parse and appreciate (and enjoy). Taken a step further, these musical events can be deeply enjoyed, rather than only appreciated, which for me—and maybe you—is the icing on the cake.
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