Does any other pop star’s album art talk the talk quite like Rihanna‘s?

Two years ago, the black and gray sheen and jagged metal “R” logo perfectly exemplified the grim, post-apocalyptic noir of Rihanna’s 2009 masterpice Rated R, as the singer menacingly peered out from behind her hand while suited in futuristic space gear, looking like Grace Jones beamed in from the year 3000.

Just a year later in 2010, Rihanna smoldered on the cover of LOUD with her fire engine red coif; her eyes closed and lips pouted with pristine 1970′s disco queen poise (where’s Andy Warhol when you need him?). Accordingly, the collection was largely colored by its StarGate-produced dance floor throbbers (“Only Girl (In The World),” “S&M”) and and airy Island-infused mid-tempo jams (“What’s My Name?” “Man Down”).

With Talk That Talk, her sixth studio album released on November 21, Rihanna has once again rih-invented, this time veering closer toward the Rated R menace, albeit not completely: She’s stripped away the metallic sheen of Rated R and given it a decidedly more street vibe.

Buttoned up in a sleeveless camouflage blouse, she appears sweaty and disheveled, her hair mussed as she grips her forehead. With a hungry glare and a dagger-sharp tongue firmly planted in the corner of her lips, she utterly oozes sex. But this isn’t a candle-lit dinner at the Four Seasons followed by a rose pedal-strewn romp in bed. This is a rough, rowdy back-alley FUCK on break during your mid-day work shift.

And that, in a nutshell, is the essence of Talk That Talk.

If 2009′s Rated R was the gritty, razor-sharp response piece to a very public domestic abuse incident and 2010′s LOUD was the colorful and jubilant (if not slightly necessary) rebound into Top 40 pop jubilee, Talk That Talk is an infinitely cool ‘n’ cocky snapshot of the Barbadian superstar at the height of her career–an incessantly replay-ready, endlessly quotable collection of (largely) rude tunes that epitomize Rihanna’s bratty persona.

Of all the hype surrounding Rihanna’s new record, one of the most scintillating claims made by VH1 was that Talk That Talk was the dirtiest pop record since Madonna‘s Erotica. But after listening, is that truly the case?

Lyrically speaking, perhaps. Like Madonna’s iconic release, Talk That Talk is similar in its unbridled filth factor (and with just as many references to cunnilingus.) Yet whereas Madonna’s iconic 1992 release was filled with slow ‘n’ smoky R&B grooves, vintage record crackles and breathy whispers of pleasure, the thick Caribbean beats and bossy bass lines of Rihanna’s record are more of an instant umph to Madonna’s timeless oooh.

Still, it’s not a bad comparison to make.

“Talk That Talk” is sex, sex, sex. And even when the loving feelings arise, they’re still more X-rated than your standard Taylor Swift-penned enchantment: “You shouldn’t have given it to me good like that/Shouldn’t have hit it like that/Had me yelling like that,” Rihanna dreamily moans at one point during the Dr. Luke-produced smooth-sailing Island groove (and second single), “You Da One.”

With the eternally naughty and endlessly genius pop scribe Ester Dean at the helm–who co-wrote at least half the record–RiRi still manages to play much naughtier than the song implies, especially as the song dives into its grind-worthy dubstep-infused middle eight, clearly inspired by Britney‘s Femme Fatale track “Inside Out” (which was also produced by Dr. Luke).

Elsewhere, Rihanna takes the reigns and leaves little to the imagination: “I’mma do it do it do it/Til’ you can’t take no more/Til’ my lipstick ain’t up on my face no more,” RiRi naughtily speak-sings above the bright, tripping beat of “Watch N’ Learn,” crafted by one of pop/R&B’s newest up-and-comers, Hit Boy.

Speaking of, there’s also “Red Lipstick,” the hugely anticipated deluxe edition track. Produced by Chase & Status and featuring a sample of Metallica‘s “Wherever I May Roam,” the deep dubstep number features a beat called “Saxon” which was originally crafted for Rihanna’s 2009 release, Rated R. After the song’s incredible guide track (starring a just-blossoming rap songstress Nicki Minaj) leaked onto the web, fans had been rallying for a final version of the song to see the light of day. And finally, after penning entirely new lyrics for the track, Rihanna finally felt it to be the right time to release the song.

“Let me grab my dick while you sit on top,” Rihanna taunts like a boss above the warbling beat. And while the final beats remain loyal to the leaked track, the lyrics and melodies aren’t quite as effective as Minaj’s rendition (the opening line of “Guess who, you bitches? It’s RiRi” will be forever missed). Still, “Red Lipstick” manages to be mostly ferocious: “Do you right here while the whole world’s watching!” Rihanna forcefully shouts at one point above the delicious slow-grinder.

And then there’s a little (as in, 1:18 little) track called “Birthday Cake,” produced by The-Dream. “It ain’t even my birthday, but he wanna lick the icing off,” Rihanna taunts as the thick bass humps against the scorching beat.

“He want that cake, cake, cake, cake, cake, cake, cake,” she repeats ceaselessly, producing the most pussy-poppin’ riff on the entire record. But like the singer herself as she delivers a dry-hump onstage to one lucky participant every night during her LOUD Tour, it’s all a blue-balling tease–the track soon trickles off at its most tantalizing moment: “Ooh, I wanna fuck you right now…”

Whether we’ll ever hear the full track remains to be seen (though they’d be absolutely stupid not to premiere it somewhere down the road–re-release?), it’s certainly one of the record’s most memorable and, forgive me, delicious offerings. So why such a tiny taste? Frankly, it’s just cruel.

Despite all the aforementioned moans and thrusts, nothing characterizes the album’s sexploitation quite like “Cockiness (Love It),” the manic, ever-so-slightly cartoon-ish Bangladesh-produced horn-ball explosion. As with his work for Ke$ha (“Sleazy”) and Beyonce (“Diva”), Bangalesh provides RiRi with a most bangin’ X-rated beat and a hefty hunk of bass. “Suck my cockiness, lick my persuasion,” RiRi announces off the top of the track, instantly becoming the album’s signature lyric–well, one of: In fact, every inch of the song is quotable (“She may be the Queen of Hearts, but I’mma be the queen of your body parts!”)–especially when it comes time for the chorus: “I love it, I love it/I love it when you eat it,” RiRi purrs on repeat.

As with LOUD‘s “Man Down,” RiRi takes the opportunity to go full-on reggaeton on this banga, exaggerating her already delightfully thick Barbados accent. At one point, she even invokes her inner Sean Paul and delivers a spot-on rap: “Dive head first if you wanna/Sing to my body/Hold me tight mister lover,” she growls. Looking for another link to Erotica? Bam: It’s the Island rendition of “Where Life Begins.”

“Talk That Talk,” the album’s centerpiece, finds Rihanna enlisting her only guest on the record: Jay-Z, who some (not I) consider the best rapper of our day. And in the album’s second major strike (the first being the length of “Birthday Cake”), there’s his rap–a hugely embarrassing offering. “I be trying to chill, bitches want to fuck me/Every little city I go, fuck me,” the married superstar anguishes off the top of his verse. And it only gets more worse from there: “I’m flying out to Pisa/Just to get some pizza,” H.O.V.A. boasts at one point. I mean…seriously?

Luckily Rihanna’s hook saves the day and salvages the number: “One and two and three and four/Come on, let me know if you want some more,” she infectiously monotones a la her assist on T.I.‘s “Live Your Life.”

If anything, the melody of “Talk That Talk” helps to underscores the fact that the StarGate-produced, Ester Dean-penned 2009 mega-smash “Rude Boy” has provided a blueprint for many of Rihanna’s later hits. “Give it to me baby, gi-gi give it to me baby,” Rihanna urges during the bangin’ (yet familiar) middle eight.

The same applies to the incredibly infectious “Roc Me Out,” yet another StarGate-produced, Ester Dean-penned number: “Come over boy, I’m so ready/You’re taking too long to get my head on the ground/And my feet in the clouds,” she impatiently begs above the thick beats–once again largely reminiscent of “Rude Boy,” albeit with a slightly rougher and rowdier edge.

And while the StarGate/Dean/Rihanna team effort is undoubtedly a winning force, the results are becoming familiar.

Apart from the album’s most filthiest offerings, the album’s two undeniable highlights are in its two love (and sweat) drenched dance floor fillers: “We Found Love” and “Where Have You Been.”

The former, already a proven instant smash hit #1 single across the world, found Rihanna making her first foray into Ibiza-friendly territory thanks to Scottish DJ/producer, Calvin Harris. Characterized by an unbelievably infectious beat all centered around one gorgeous lyric on repeat (“We found love in a hopeless place”), the album’s lead single is an explosion of euphoric synthesizers, leading to the most major rave moment for the Barbadian superstar.

Well, second most.

“Where Have You Been” isn’t only the album’s greatest achievement, but one of the greatest songs of 2011. Co-produced by Dr. Luke, Cirkut and Calvin Harris, the genius dance-pop number is like listening to “Don’t Stop The Music” on ecstasy. “I been everywhere man, looking for someone,” Rihanna sadly croons off the top of the misleadingly somber song opening. “Where have you been?/’Cause I never see you out/Are you hiding from me, yeah?/Somewhere in the crowd,” Rihanna suddenly yelps, immediately launching the song into a throbbing 21st century torch track.

Yet while the song’s chorus is already a major smash, she dives deeper: “Where have you been all my l-i-i-ife?” Rihanna chants as the song relentlessly bangs harder and harder, at last bursting at the seams and exploding into a furious, gasp-inducing grind ‘n’ winding synth breakdown. It’s by far her greatest dance number to date, and whenever it’s finally released, Rihanna’s bound to redefine to word “reign” yet again.

While the majority of Talk That Talk is devoted to dick and dancing, Rihanna does find occasionally the time to wipe the sweat from her brow in between for some introspection–and she shines when she does.

“Drunk On Love,” the StarGate-produced track destined to divide listeners for its extensive sample of indie-pop outfit The XX‘s album track “Intro,” is one of album’s other major highlights. And despite what indie purists may whine, the sample works effortlessly–resulting in the album’s most gorgeous moment. “I wear my heart on my sleeve/Always let love take the lead/I may be a little naive,” Rihanna pours out above the hypnotic sample. “You know that I’m drunk on love,” Rihanna repeats in a fragile falsetto.

“Farewell,” the album’s closer produced by “Love The Way You Lie” hit-maker Alex Da Kid, may well have been recorded during the Rated R era. “I don’t wanna be the reason you don’t leave, so farewell,” Rihanna yelps miserably. Much like “The Last Song” or “Firebomb,” RiRi shines on devastation ballads–although the song admittedly doesn’t reach such emotional heights as on her Rated R work.

For those bemoaning the lack of emotional depth or technical skill displayed on the standard edition of Talk That Talk, the ultimate be-all, end-all argument comes in the form of the deluxe edition’s final moment: “Fool In Love,” easily one of Rihanna’s best vocal performances to date, if not the best.

“Mama,” Rihanna belts above an ambient electronic backdrop, “I found a man.” (I was half expecting her to continue with “just killed a man.” Hello, Queen undertones!) Much like Britney’s Femme Fatale closer “Criminal,” Rihanna finds herself stating her case after falling in love with a man that’s nothing but trouble. What follows is an utterly explosive, gut-wrenching vocal performance: “So I guess I’m a fool in love, but I’m willing to look so stupid ’til I had enough,” she sings, her voice powerfully belting out while fluttering across octaves. It’s purely a next-level moment for Rihanna, proving yet again how much the young singer still has to offer as an artist.

As is fairly well known in RiRi lore, the Talk That Talk sessions began while the Bajan sensation was out on her worldwide LOUD Tour, originally meant for a re-release package of LOUD. After enough recording however, it became clear that an entirely separate body of work was forming in the studio.

And so Rihanna continued to record as she traveled from the US to the European leg, performing in makeshift recording studios built backstage at arenas and in hotels across Europe.

The photos that Rihanna’s team uploaded behind-the-scenes during the final few hours of Talk That Talk sessions provide a glimpse into the chaos: We see an ever-effervescent RiRi sitting with her producers in a make-shift studio in a foreign hotel suite, scribbling down notes on the floor with her guide lyrics, crossing off tracks until completion, and popping bottles in celebration. (According to Entertainment Weekly‘s review, the hotel room numbers where each song was recorded are even included in the liner notes.) But given how piecemeal the record was, it’s all the more surprising to hear that Talk That Talk is arguably her most cohesive album to date.

Though the ghost in the machine of Rated R is nowhere to be found on Talk That Talk, Rihanna’s latest release is nearly on par with her 2009 grand opus. Not quite, as Rated R captured an emotional vulnerability and an edginess in production that remains unmatched–but it’s close.

Lest we forget, the album was recorded by a 23-year-old woman jet-setting across the world on tour as one of the biggest pop stars in the world: It’s a perfect encapsulation of a (particularly frisky) young superstar on top, embodying her cocky brand of sexual humor and playfully brash attitude, and perhaps the most ‘Rihanna’ record in her discography yet.

Her detractors will often complain–in one of the more ridiculous criticisms I’ve heard–about the frequency of her releases. Indeed, Rihanna’s released an album every single year since 2005 (except 2008, when a reloaded edition of Good Girls Gone Bad was issued instead.) To compare, in the time that Katy Perry‘s Teenage Dream campaign began–starting with “California Gurls” in May of 2010, Rihanna’s moved through three entire album cycles, releasing Rated R‘s “Te Amo” in June, moving into the LOUD era later last year, and now with the Talk That Talk era.)

Yet it never feels like work: Her artistry has only continued to evolve. The songs keep getting better. Her impact is getting stronger. After over seven years in the industry, Rihanna has grown into a full-on entertainer and cultural force rather than the mere voice on the radio she once was back in 2005, and there’s certainly no doubt that she’s improved exponentially as a performer (compare “Umbrella” at the 2007 VMA’s to her performance of “We Found Love” on X Factor last week.)

Talk That Talk is an excellent pop record, chock-full of infectious rhythms and finger-lickin’ freaky-deeky hooks. Every track purrs with personality and plenty of sex appeal, bursting at the seams with Ri’s signature cockiness.

While she may not be the most gifted vocalist nor a particularly incredible dancer, Rihanna remains one of the industry’s most thoroughly refreshing and wholly enjoyable pop acts. If she continues down this path–rather, if the Rihanna reign continues to not let up (scientists are still hard at work diligently calculating a reign end date to no avail), there’s no telling where the woman who once claimed she wanted to become “the black Madonna” may end up climbing.

The fact is that Rihanna is simply doing everything right.

Talk That Talk was released on November 21. (iTunes)

STOP ABSOLUTELY EVERYTHING.

Tonight, “Princess of China”–Coldplay‘s hotly anticipated collaboration with Princess Rihanna as featured on their upcoming fifth studio album, Mylo Xyloto–has finally surfaced.

And now, here’s the thing…it’s INCREDIBLE. Like, thoroughly so.

Much like Coldplay’s 2008 collaboration with Kylie Minogue, “Lhuna,” “Princess of China” takes the song’s leading pop diva and places her completely out of her own element–musically, that is. The song itself is nothing even close to the radio-friendly Stargate-crafted booty jams that RiRi churns out on the regular: Instead, “Princess of China” drifts along on a hazy mixture of lush, dreamy synthesizers and a progressive stomping beat that come together to form something as fantastically strange and mystical as an ancient Mayan ritual anthem.

In some ways, “Princess of China” is the indie-rock response to RiRi’s stormy 2010 duet with Eminem (“Love The Way You Lie”)–but this time, the heartbreak’s being dealt against the sound of a thousand blaring, bleary synthesizers.

“Once upon a time we fell apart / You’re holding in your hands the two halves of my heart,” Coldplay lead Chris Martin sings during the fairy tale gone terribly wrong. Soon the song’s searing synthesizers drown into the speakers, making way for Rihanna to tell her side of the story. “I could have been a princess, you’d be a king / Could have had a castle and worn a ring / But no, you let me go,” the Bajan beauty fires back.

But it’s one shiver-inducing lyric that remains most poignant as the two singers sadly, almost deliriously sing-song in unison: “You stole my star.”

Vocally, Rihanna has never sounded better than in this moment: From the opening battle chant to the woeful cries on repeat during the tale’s agonizing close (“’cause you really hurt me”), Rihanna’s rarely displayed such versatility in a single song. It’s a testament to her (underrated) range, as well as another sign that RiRi’s still got plenty to offer in terms of emotional depth far beyond her own masterpiece, 2009′s Rated R.

“Princess of China” delivers a painful blow–a stunning victory for all parties involved, and easily one of the year’s best tracks.

Mylo Xyloto will be released on October 24. (iTunes)

“Lying on a fake beach, you’ll never get a tan / Baby I’m gonna leave you drowning, until you reach for my hand,” she croons.

And so begins the second chapter of Electra Heart, the American Dream-turned-Greek tragedy being slowly unwoven by bright red-lipped UK chanteuse Marina + The Diamonds.

After the release of “Fear & Loathing” on August 8 comes “Radioactive,” produced by DJ Chuckie and powerhouse Norwegian production team Stargate–Marina’s most daring lift-off from her usual output, and also one of her finest songs to date.

Boldly charging into mainstream production territory, Miss Diamandis lays her signature chops atop a pulsating, shimmering dance beat that could have just as easily been found layered into Rihanna‘s LOUD or an Alexis Jordan club cut.

Yet this both is and isn’t an immediate radio smash: While the beat is thoroughly Top 40, the songcraft is still very much a Marina production, featuring emotionally charged lyrics (“My heart is nuclear / Love is all that I fear / Ready to be let down, now I’m headed for a meltdown”) and the singer’s signature leaping vocal acrobatics and quivering vibrato. The result? An utterly stellar indie-goes-dance production–the kind of smart pop that helps to continue to redefine the genre.

The accompanying Casper Balslev-directed clip is equally breathtaking: Like a cross between Bonnie & Clyde and The Virgin Suicides, there’s something simultaneously thrilling and spooky in watching Heart’s rebellious adventures through the windy deserts, sleazy motel rooms and desolate supermarkets of heartland America.

Where will it all end for Electra? We’ll find out soon enough when the story’s third installment is uploaded within the next week or two.

“Radioactive” will be released on October 3. (iTunes UK)

Don’t call it an alter-ego.

Meet Electra Heart: She is a story, not a person, as invented by one of the brightest new talents to come from the UK: Marina + The Diamonds.

After the release of her critically acclaimed debut last year, The Family Jewels, Marina’s been hard at work cooking up the follow-up to her debut with some of pop’s heaviest hitters (despite an initial hesitance), including Dr. Luke and Stargate.

For fans accustomed to the singer’s quirky mixture of bright, hook-heavy pop melodies and dramatic vocalizing, the Top 40 production roster for Marina’s as-of-yet untitled sophomore attempt seems somewhat surprising. As the singer explained in an interview with PopJustice:

If this was a year ago I don’t mind saying now that I would have been, like, “no way am I doing this”. I was not even up for working with anyone. This is why these two songs fit really well together actually, because ‘Fear & Loathing’ is about genuinely not feeling bitter or crazy or jealous any more (nervous laugh) and actually feeling a lot better off for it.

To kick off her new beginning, the singer has given birth to Electra Heart, a character Marina will employ to narrate a grander vision: A tale of the American dream (with a side of Greek tragedy to boot.)

It’s a concept she’s been continuously fascinated by (as previously encountered on her Family Jewels single “Hollywood.) Yet as she explained to PopJustice, the story this time around has more to do with exploring the underbelly of American society than the glitz and glamour that underscored her 2010 single:

Electra Heart is the antithesis of everything that I stand for. And the point of introducing her and building a whole concept around her is that she stands for the corrupt side of American ideology, and basically that’s the corruption of yourself. My worst fear – that’s anyone’s worst fear – is losing myself and becoming a vacuous person. And that happens a lot when you’re very ambitious.

And so it began on Monday, as Marina uploaded Part One of her tale: “Fear & Loathing.” Directed by Caspar Balslev, the video finds the beautiful crooner sitting in front of a vanity, deep in thought and thoughtfully staring into the mirror. At a point, she lifts a pair of scissors and–pensively–begins to hack away at her own curls, inch by inch until settling for a cropped bob and strolling out onto the balcony.

The song itself is a gorgeous, slightly more sophisticated departure for the 25-year-old singer, complimented by echoing piano chords and airy, soaring ambient sound. “There’s no crime in being kind / Not everyone is out to screw you over / Maybe they just want to get to know you,” she ponderously croons. It’s a more mature, developed sound for the singer–an incredibly promising start to a new chapter in Marina’s career.

The next piece of Electra Heart: The Start will be uploaded to Marina’s YouTube next Monday at 4 PM.

And–if you couldn’t tell by now by the copious quotage–you really ought to read the entire interview with Marina over at PopJustice now for added insight.

If you’re looking for Sasha Fierce, don’t bother: She’s gone.

Well, not entirely–she’s certainly still there twerking her hips above the militant beat of “Run The World (Girls)” and the frenzied horn-filled club bounce of “Countdown,” but for the most part, the divalicious alter ego of one of the world’s greatest entertainers has (temporarily?) stepped a stiletto to the side for the majority of her fourth studio album, 4–allowing the record to remain a decidedly Beyoncé experience.

Trouble came quickly for Beyoncé this year when a demo of the lead single from 4, “Run The World (Girls),” sprung an early leak.

The bouncy Diplo & Switch-produced club banger, which relies (a bit too heavily) on an extended sample of Major Lazer‘s “Pon De Floor” was instantly panned by a number critics and fans alike. Supporters of the 2009 Major Lazer hit were quick to dismiss the singer as a bold-faced song swiper. Others said the song “misses the mark big time.” Driving home from work on the day of the song’s premiere, I heard the DJ announce live on radio: “We’ve got the new Beyoncé single…and it’s TERRIBLE.” Reception was lukewarm, to say the absolute least.

Despite high-profile performances on both Oprah‘s final show celebration and the 2011 Billboard Awards, the song stalled at #29 on the Billboard Hot 100 charts.

She fared no better with the soft iTunes release of “1+1,” the Prince-tinged album opener she performed live on American Idol finale, which barely clawed its way to #57 on the charts.

Around the same time, news broke that she and her father ended their professional partnership, and Mathew Knowles stepped down as her manager prior to the release of 4. Rumors swirled regarding Columbia’s confidence in the album–from rumored album release push-backs to supposed re-recording sessions. Backlash started flying after it was revealed that the Billboard Awards performance was more or less a direct copy of a performance from Italian pop star, Lorella Cuccerini. Then, the album’s promotional photos soon came pouring in–a confusing clutter of both ’70′s-inspired glamour and misguided high fashion fetishism, doing nothing to clarify any real direction for the record. (Is that a Clifford the Big Red Dog draped over her shoulders?)

Yet astonishingly, regardless of whatever truth the rumors hold, it seems as though Beyoncé simply doesn’t care about commercial success right now.

What the casual listener may not have already seen or read (by no fault of their own, as she’s has done a staggeringly minimal amount of promotion thus far) is that 4 is the product of the singer’s first break away from the music industry. Taking off more than a year since she first started in the industry well over 15 years ago with Destiny’s Child, Beyoncé spent her time broadening her musical horizons, attending concerts (Rage Against The Machine!) and generally experiencing life (however normal that may be for a larger-than-life superstar.)

She spoke candidly about her experience to Billboard two months ago:

I took more than a year off: I traveled around, spent time with my husband, woke up in my own bed, ate whatever I wanted, went to museums and Broadway plays, watched documentaries, and just had life experiences. I never get to go to concerts because I’m usually performing, so I saw so many shows – great bands, like Muse and Rage Against the Machine, that also inspired the album. There were a lot of artists I’d never been exposed to: I’m like a sponge and soak everything up, and I learned so much from watching these great performers. Having time to grow as a human being was really inspiring, and gave me a lot to pull from. I’m excited about growing: I can just have fun, and the artistic freedom to do whatever I want. At this point, I really know who I am, and don’t feel like I have to put myself in a box. I’m not afraid of taking risks – no one can define me.

And it seems she’s truly taken her artistic freedom to heart, as the album veers sharply from the chart-ready club banger pattern of her back catalog. Instead, she’s returned with live soul sessions and aching, nostalgic power ballads that drip with the intent of pure artistic fulfillment. But as a result, there’s not a single radio hit to be found on 4.

4 is meant to be enjoyed as a complete album experience. There are no radio-friendly singles on this album (barring “Run The World,” which proves even more jarring than it already is as the follow-up to the emotionally devastating “I Was Here”). This is actual musicianship, marked by gorgeous live instrumentation and raw, stripped vocals.

While speaking with Billboard about the wide range of influences behind her new record, Beyoncé named Afrobeat founder Fela Kuti as a main source of inspiration, along with an incredibly eclectic array of other acts: “I also found a lot of inspiration in ’90s R&B: Earth, Wind & Fire, DeBarge, Lionel Richie, Teena Marie… I listened to a lot of Jackson 5 and New Edition, but also Adele, Florence + the Machine, and Prince,” she told the magazine.

To help channel such a wide array of influences, Beyoncé’s team enlisted a full-on production powerhouse for 4, featuring contributions by Tricky Stewart, The-Dream, Kanye West and Diplo & Switch.

Yet more of the album has been crafted by fresher faces such as Shea Taylor, whose production credits have up until now extended to one or two tracks off of megawatt albums, including Rihanna‘s Good Girl Gone Bad (“Question Existing”) and Janet Jackson‘s Discipline (“Discipline). Here, Taylor co-commands no less than seven, including “Countdown,” “Love On Top” and a personal highlight, “I Miss You.”

The minimal ballad, which drifts atop of a chilly, drippy beat and weird, warped ambient sound, isn’t merely a ballad–it’s the perfect encapsulation of loneliness on record. “It hurts my pride to tell you how I feel, but I still need you,” she sadly pleads; her voice eerily echoed and distant. It’s easily one of the most haunting songs I’ve heard in recent time–an instant favorite.

Even with long-standing collaborators like Ryan Tedder, it’s clear that Beyoncé’s stepped up her game: While “Halo” was a surefire radio smash from the I Am…Sasha Fierce sessions, 4‘s Diane Warren-penned “I Was Here” stands as an utter triumph in songcraft.

“When I leave this world, I’ll leave no regrets / Leave something to remember, so they won’t forget,” she declares during the all-or-nothing ballad. “I was here / I lived, I loved,” Beyonce continues to cry out with sobering finality, as though delivering the very epithet that will one day appear on her grave. “I Was Here” is one of the most defining statement of purposes she’s ever delivered, and arguably one of the finest records she’s ever crafted.

Devastation aside, there’s also a fair share of anger to go around. “I Care,” a similarly minimal, desolate power ballad, finds Beyoncé bitterly biting back against a less-interested lover about her own feelings. “I know you don’t care too much, but I still care,” she angrily tears into the chorus. “Boy, maybe if you cared enough / I wouldn’t have to care so much.”

The album’s second single, “Best Thing I Never Had,” is also steeped in shade. Much like fellow DC3 member Michelle Williams‘ “Thank U,” the charging power ballad throws a curve ball by allowing Beyoncé to sarcastically thank her former flame for being the worst. “I bet it sucks to be you right now!” she fumes above the chugging piano-and-strings melody. The song is an absolute smash, save for one lyric: “You showed your ass, and I saw the real you.” While it’s fairly obvious that she’s trying out another way to say something to the effect of “You showed your true colors,” the line will never not sound like the song could just be about mooning someone. Troubling, no matter how many times it’s sung.

Most of the time though, Beyonce is relishing in that loving feeling: The horn-heavy, Kanye-produced “Party (feat. Andre 3000)” is a throwback exercise in feel-good music making, while “Love On Top” relishes in a ’70′s sheen of funky rhythms and guitar grooves. This is food for the soul!

“Countdown,” the album’s only other uptempo club track, comes blaring into the speakers with Afrobeat horns and pounding drums hoisted on high like a crazed marching band, as Bey cleverly counts down to the chorus (“My baby is a (Ten!) / We dressing to the (Nine!)”). As far as the Sasha Fierce sympathizers is concerned, this is the closest she comes to delivering the album’s weave-patting, hip-grinding club anthem. But is it on par with past offerings like “Diva” or “Sweet Dreams”? Not quite.

Frustratingly, it’s the album’s deluxe edition tracks that give 4 a much needed boost in BPM that the standard edition could have truly benefited from, including the unbelievably good “Schoolin’ Life.”

The jaw-droppingly solid, Whitney-esque moment of jubilation celebrates Bey’s need to unleash her inner freak (“Mom and Dad tried to hide the boys, I swear that just made them want me even more / At 14 they asked me what I want to be, I said ‘Baby 21, so I can get me a drink!”). It’s the most fun a girl can have while listening to 4–a sorely missed inclusion in the original tracklisting.

Other cuts include the soul-warming Stargate-penned “Lay Up Under Me” (another “Love On Top”-like flair of classic ’70′s soul) and “Dance For You,” a seductive slow grind that sizzles atop a slow grind cooked up by The-Dream. The song is not entirely unlike cuts like “9 to 5″ and “So Good,” two cuts off of (the deeply under-appreciated and largely overlooked) debut of The-Dream side project, Electrik Red.

Apart from being overloaded with a steady stream of slower tunes–a pacing that will do nothing for radio-friendly ears or dance-ready feet (and one that could have easily remedied with the inclusion of the deluxe edition tunes)–4 is a gorgeous, solid album experience that pays proper tribute to a slice of music history without artificially recreating any one artist’s signature sound.

While the album is nearly guaranteed to go down as the first major misfire in Beyoncé’s otherwise unshakable career track record–the dreaded “artistic attempt”–it’s as much of a guarantee that future listeners will re-visit this record in time to discover that it is, in fact, a gem.

4 was released on June 28. (iTunes)

After the smashing success of her first two singles, “Happiness” and “Good Girl” (which hit #3 and #6 on the UK Singles Chart, respectively), Alexis Jordan is about to prepare the third single from her self-titled debut: “Hush Hush.”

Jordan’s latest effort, produced by Norwegian pop production masters StarGate (the duo acted as executive producers of her album), bounces along the same dark, throbbing beats and soaring synthesizers as Rihanna‘s “Don’t Stop The Music,” “S&M” and “Only Girl (In The World).” (All three of which were commandeered by–you guessed it: Stargate!)

With its delicious, remix-ready beat and a chorus as equally infectious as her last two releases, “Hush Hush” is yet another shining moment for the burgeoning 19-year-old starlet–no doubt set to make a major splash when released in May.

“Hush Hush” will be released on May 8. (iTunes UK)

Just when you thought the snippets were over…look! It’s a brand new Femme Fatale clip!

Thanks to my friends at BadMediaKarma, we now have a brand new 45-second clip of “Selfish,” the Stargate and Sandy Vee-produced track (co-penned by Ester Dean!) which is set to appear on the deluxe edition of Femme Fatale.

Plus, some new lyrics!

Okay, the shoe is going on the other foot tonight
I’m ’bout to turn you into my very own flight tonight
Okay you think you got me where you want me
I’mma show you tonight
That I’m a girl, and you’re a boy
And tonight you gon’ be my, be my man

Oh oh oh oh oh tonight I’m gonna be a little selfish, be a little selfish
Oh oh oh oh oh tonight I’m gonna be a little selfish, be a little selfish

Boom, boom baby pick you up in my Mercedes
I’mma be a little selfish, be a little selfish
Boom, boom baby pick you up in my Mercedes
I’mma be a little selfish, be a little selfish

Okay, I literally love everything about this track so far: I love the icy electronica. I love the stomping beat. I love the lyrics. I love the electric guitar. And Godney’s enunciation? Absolutely SLAYING me!

Doesn’t it sound like she’s saying “sale fish”?! AMAZING & ICONIC.

HOW IS THIS ONE NOT ON THE STANDARD EDITION?!

Of all the pop releases in the works this year, Kelly Rowland‘s third album may quite possibly the messiest yet.

Rowland’s third studio album first began to take shape after the smashing global success of “When Love Takes Over,” her 2009 collaboration with David Guetta–a hit that largely cemented Guetta’s dance floor reign over the next two years.

To further capitalize on that winning Euro-pop sound, Rowland returned with an equally infectious follow-up last May: “Commander,” an explosive, almighty club anthem that dominated dance charts all across the world, snagging the #1 spot on the US Billboard Hot Dance/Club Play charts.

Soon thereafter however, the former Destiny’s Child chanteuse began to take a tumble. Her label opted to forgo the winning formula–despite the successes born from Rowland’s new-found dance floor diva status–and instead continue the campaign with two ‘urban’-inspired missteps. It was a move that might have made sense in 2002, but in today’s music market? A severely missed opportunity.

In late June of 2010, Rowland released the Dr. Luke-produced, Ester Dean-penned “Rose Colored Glasses,” a stomping R&B mid-tempo that tapped out at #39 on the US Top 40 Airplay Chart.

The single was followed up by “Grown Woman” in July, the Stargate self-empowerment anthem that literally nobody ended up hearing–stalling at an impressively abysmal #51 on the U.S. Hot R&B/Hip-Hop Songs Chart.

Two months later, Rowland returned to the dance-pop sound that ushered in her initial success with “Forever And A Day,” a storming, David Guetta/Jonas Jeberg production released in Europe in September. But poor promotion–coupled with the fact that the song just isn’t as strong as her previous Guetta concoctions–led to a mediocre peak at #49 on the UK Singles Chart.

After all this, it seems as though the label have now simply stopped trying altogether.

The project as it now stands is a complete and utter mess, as evidenced by the album’s convoluted Wikipedia page–an impossibly long laundry list of producers and collaborators (Tricky Stewart, Bangladesh, Gucci Mane, Ne-Yo, Jermaine Dupri, etc.), a half dozen “planned singles,” and release date push-backs galore–and not to forget, they’re still wavering on the album title.

Although the album is now apparently slated to be released on April 11 in the UK (only two months away), the release seems highly unlikely.

To her credit, Rowland recently updated her website last week to address the silence surrounding the record:

I just wanna first start off by telling you all thank you SO much for being incredibly patient in waiting for the album. The making of this album has been an emotional roller coaster but empowering for me, which you will hear once it’s all done. I’m just taking my time to make sure it’s everything I want it to be. Just an FYI, it is shaping up beautifully!

Still, new leaks from the third album’s recording sessions have already begun to surface. Case in point: “Just Whisper,” a brand new track that leaked in full yesterday.

The song, which was written by Claude Kelly and produced by Swedish up-and-coming sensation Fredro (Shontelle, Jessica Mauboy), is a gorgeous mid-tempo that floats along above a calm guitar strum that completely recalls Sixpence None The Richer‘s late ’90′s hit, “Kiss Me.”

Just in time for Valentine’s Day, “Just Whisper” is Rowland’s most romantic moment yet within this album’s campaign. “You’re already more beautiful than anything I’ve heard, so just whisper the words,” Rowland croons. The message is quite sweet, even if it’s nothing altogether new: You don’t need to prove anything–just do you.

It’s now become even more difficult to place exactly what this new album’s going to sound like with this new leak. As a result, there’s only one thing for certain: The label better get their priorities straight, because this woman has way too much to offer to allow this campaign to simply slip away.

For an album called No Boys Allowed, there sure are a lot of boys that came to play inside Miss Keri Baby‘s clubhouse.

Though she’s tried at length to explain her new album’s title–that No Boys Allowed a “no bitch ass-ness” kind of empowerment collection about ditching the little boys and uplifting women, it’s hard to drive that point home when the album’s guest-list is exclusively filled with men–especially when one of them is Chris Brown.

But putting the album title-content conflict aside, Miss Keri Baby has produced a worthy follow-up to her excellent and underrated 2009 debut, In A Perfect World… with No Boys Allowed, released on December 21.

As one of the more prominent pop songwriters of late (her writing credits include Omarion‘s “Ice Box, Ciara‘s “Like A Boy” and Britney‘s “Gimme More”), Keri Hilson’s industry ties have afforded her the opportunity to compile another heavyweight producer-packed record, including contributions by Polow Da Don (“The Way You Love Me”), Danja (“Toy Soldier”), Stargate (“Lose Control”) and longtime collaborator, Timbaland (“Breaking Point”).

With No Boys Allowed, Hilson finds her groove in a variety of beats and influences, including the horn-heavy Southern swagga of “Buyou (feat. J. Cole),” the preachy church organ of “Breaking Point” (arguably the worst choice for lead single from the entire record), and the major empowerment anthem, “Pretty Girl Rock.”

As the torchbearer of No Boys Allowed, “Pretty Girl Rock” is the embodiment of the Hilson’s supposed intentions for this record, perfectly marrying cheeky self-encouragement (“All eyes on me when I walk in, no question that this girl’s a 10 / Don’t hate me ’cause I’m beautiful”) with a banging, piano-tinged modern beat. The result is a feel-good, groove-good uplifting anthem that packs as much of a punch lyrically as it does musically.

At the same time, Hilson kicks her heels back with a wash of Caribbean rhythms on tracks like the meandering “Bahm Bahm (Do It Once Again)” and “Lose Control (feat. Nelly),” which will surely go down as the greatest rip-off of Rihanna‘s “What’s My Name?” ever produced. (Note: Not an insult!)

Penned by the same hit-maker (the ever amazing Ester Dean, scribe of “Rude Boy”), “Lose Control” comes a bit too close for comfort to Ri’s superior radio smash, which is probably why it’s almost as infectious. “Shake, wind and roll,” Miss Keri Baby commands across the song’s dark, electro-tinged groove. Even Nelly’s feature on the track–apart from the unsettling rhyming of “famous” with “anus” (Oy! Leave it to Ke$ha, please)–proves an enjoyable addition to the song’s mesmerizing beat.

Hilson also takes care to revisit to the spacey, electro-R&B sound that colored much of her 2009 effort on cuts like “One Last Stand (feat. Chris Brown),” “Gimme What I Want” and “Beautiful Mistake”–the latter two being glowing highlights of the record.

Also of note is the album’s closing moment, “All The Boys,” a gorgeously introspective mid-tempo that will almost surely go overlooked: “After all the boys I thought I loved before, I didn’t know what love was until you knocked on my door,” Keri sweetly croons on top of the song’s big beats and twinkling piano riffs. Not only is “All The Boys” refreshingly stripped production-wise, but the songstress herself seems to be emoting more than ever during the album’s final moment. It’s beautiful, truly.

Of all the uptempo tracks on No Boys Allowed however, nothing bumps nearly as hard as “The Way You Love Me,” the raw, raucous Polow Da Don-produced sex romp that finds Miss Keri Baby shedding away the cutesy flirt of “Pretty Girl Rock,” stripping down and literally screaming into the chorus: “Fuck me, fuck me / It’s the way you fuck me!” (or perhaps more accurately, fuck-may, fuck-may!).

Even though she’s caught some (unfair) heat for the album’s sexually charged third single (largely due to its salacious video, which features Ms. Hilson working her hips against a giant safe in a way never before caught on film), it’s the song’s carnal energy, juicy bounce and fiercely lewd lyricism (“Yeah, it’s me, that’s where you want to be / I got the kind of pussy that’ll keep you off the streets”) that makes “The Way You Love Me” easily one of the year’s baddest tracks (in the best way possible).

Much as with In A Perfect World…, Miss Keri Baby’s brought a variety of soulful treats to the table on her sophomore attempt. While the No Boys Allowed female empowerment motif doesn’t exactly hold throughout, and there aren’t as many standout single-ready tracks on this album as with her debut, there’s still enough catchy cuts to overcome its thematic shortcomings.

Katy Perry is probably the only pop star I could ever feel compelled to deem a “guilty pleasure.”

In my opinion, there are two types of catchy in the world: The one with pop hooks so well-crafted you’ll want them replaying in your head until the end of time (“Umbrella,” “Just Dance”), and then there’s the obvious, derivative kind of catchy that cause you to itch and burn like an STD.

Perry’s productions are often in the latter category. In fact, they sort of like the music equivalent of herpes: Wildly contagious, annoying, and ultimately likely to lead to an intense awkwardness when revealing your condition to lovers and friends.

Take for instance one of the summer’s biggest singles, “California Gurls.” The track is little more than a direct rip of BFF Ke$ha‘s superior drunk-pop anthem, “Tik Tok,” yet it’s managed to thrive nonetheless.

It isn’t always the songs–usually the product of a suite of Swedish pop masterminds–that cause such pangs of guilt and anguish, but rather Perry herself, whose doe-eyed, potty-mouthed persona leaves much to be desired.

Perry’s shtick is obnoxious and, at times, hypocritical. Bolstered by a devoutly religious upbringing (and short-lived run as a Christian rock artist), she has the gall to criticize her fellow pop stars for being blasphemous sluts while simultaneously shooting whipped cream out of her tits and posing topless for Rolling Stone and Esquire.

For me, she’s a hard one to like–let alone to outwardly enjoy in public.

But good pop is good pop, and every now and then, Katy Perry delivers good pop.

This week sees the release of Teenage Dream, Katy Perry’s follow-up to her massively successful 2008 debut, One of The Boys. The album, like the one before, is a veritable “who’s who” of the top pop producers in the game, including Max Martin, Tricky Stewart, Greg Wells, Benny Blanco, Dr. Luke, and Stargate.

The album begins with its title track, which also happens best song of the bunch in terms of songcraft. “Teenage Dream” is not only a masterfully crafted pop tune with a smart hook, but a rare moment of tenderness for the otherwise bratty bombshell: “You think I’m pretty without any makeup on / You think I’m funny when I tell the punchline wrong,” Perry whispers on top of the song’s setting sun guitar strums.

Sure, the lyrics offer a cornucopia of only the most stereotypical lovesick vagueries, but “Teenage Dream” is still an amazing and evocative pop song. At the risk of massacring my reputation (what reputation?), it simply must be said: Listening to this song just makes you want to feel that way about someone.

“Last Friday (T.G.I.F.),” in contrast, feels entirely inauthentic. Much as with Perry’s summer smash, the song is almost a direct lift of everything you’ve already heard off of Ke$ha’s debut released earlier this year, Animal. Say what you will about Ke$ha’s aesthetic (or what she probably smells like), but any and all talk of drunken hook-ups and glitter on the floor are strictly within her domain at the moment. Any other attempt to emulate her drunk-pop revelry? Well, it just comes off sounding cheap.

The slap-happy silliness is pervasive throughout Perry’s record, including the stomping ode to the penis, “Peacock.” Scribed by one of the naughtiest names in popular songwriting at the moment, Ester Dean (“Rude Boy”; “Drop It Low”), “Peacock” is a most infectious, cheer-tastic celebration of the male member hidden behind the thinnest of veils: “Are you brave enough to let me see your peacock? / Don’t be a chicken boy, stop acting like a beeotch.” It’s the most fun offered on the record, even if the schtick wears stale after a few days.

It’s not all cotton candy and cocks, though. In interviews leading up to the release of Teenage Dream, Perry expressed her desire to fill the void of an Alanis Morrissette-like figure in today’s pop market on her next release.

“Circle the Drain” is the result of such desire, one of the album’s most impressive numbers. The song contains the best, most biting lines of the entire record: “Wanna be your lover, not your fucking mother,” Perry explodes with a vitriolic, shaking-with-anger kind of enunciation while exorcising her ex-flame’s demons.

“E.T.” and “Who Am I Living For?” follow along a similarly angst-ridden path. Still, Perry’s self-searching offerings are a bit too modern/major production (excessive instrumentation; squeaky-clean studio sounds) to be dubbed worthy of a Morrissette comparison–even if they dare to bare their teeth more than your standard Kelly Clarkson vengeance-seeking smash.

At best, Teenage Dream is a top heavy collection of party pop anthems and occasionally good, often schmaltzy slow numbers. Perhaps if she left the glitter act to Ke$ha and nixed the soggy ballads clogging up the second half of this record, Perry might have stood to offer something as tasty as her album’s cotton-candy scent. (No, really…the album smells.)

Aside from the occasional moment of sugary sweet brilliance however (“Teenage Dream”; “Firework”), the party balloons deflate rather quickly, resulting in a record that feels about as fluffy as the pink cotton candy swirled around Perry’s naughty bits on the cover.