How the fuck did that little amazon Rihanna become so fucking huge on both sides of the pivot?
It really is nit combing my follicles pondering as to why the peasant wearing, Pon De Replayin' princess is reigning supreme at the mo. It's totally astounding to see the pure effects of an ill-advised undercut and a well publicised fat-lip/black eye combo can do for one's flagging career.
Granted her melodies are are about as catchy as the hoard of songs that Spain deports every summer, like King Africa, and the lyrical content has finely tuned itself into the geographical heart of Jarvis Cocker (he gave her a shout out during one of his lyric lectures that I attended) but have we all forgotten how once upon a My Super Sweet 16 she was a pre-teens date on a forementioned prowg, donning more fuscia chiffon than Jean-Benet and looking like Barbie Mariposa.
Was it her sampling in S.O.S that catapulted her, forehead first into mains stream? Was it her being the Patwois tongued version Sian Lloyd in Umbrella? can we throw the blame book at Def jam for lopping off Lady Sovereign and 3LW's contracts to pump more green into slicker production and making her album artwork look like scattered pages from razzle that you find when you're 10, in a bush behind The Red lion?
I've heard Ri-Ri get described as a lot of things, like 'edgy', and a 'pioneer of fashion', or even 'the coffee coloured Lagy GaGa'. BOLLOCKS.
I've seen more personality in a blunt Rimmel eye pencil. Maybe i'm just feeling too bloated after my Chicken wrapped in Pancetta dinner and i'm needing to vent my slander, maybe i'm just really cynical,bitter and jealous that she gets first pick of everything that Jeremy Scott dashes his fingers too, maybe i have far more opinions than friends but Rihanna's image is totally contrived. She's been put together more so than Hearsay.
She's the manufactured, Mattel Chrissy, she's the Lolly of the noughties.
I'd like to think that the self proclaimed rude gyal has longevity within the industry though, as although her music lacks soul, honesty and meaning to some extent, I'm struggling to imagine a dancefloor without the echoes of 'Rude boy'. The world would be a much sadder place without Rihanna and her vocoded voxbox.
Here's some vinny to slap you back right in the middle of 2k3, reef in paw, Moschino belt circumferencing your waist.
