Anniversaries: Music of the Sun by Rihanna
Rihanna’s first album invited the world to dance to the music of the sun, and the world, as it turned out, was more than happy to oblige.
Def Jam Recordings introduced a then-17-year-old Robyn “Rihanna” Fenty as far more than a pretty face in the crowded field of mid-2000s R&B starlets. From the first moments of lead single “Pon de Replay,” it was clear Rihanna had a different kind of energy, one soaked in Caribbean sunshine and dancehall swagger. Over an infectious, up-tempo dancehall riddim, she commands the DJ in her Bajan patois: “Come, Mr. DJ, song pon de replay/Come, Mr. DJ, won’t you turn the music up.” That simple “turn the music up” hook, delivered atop booming dancehall-lite beats and a lilting reggae vocal cadence, became one of summer 2005’s most ubiquitous club anthems. With its fusion of island rhythm and pop savvy, “Pon de Replay” immediately set Rihanna apart from the era’s many emerging R&B divas. It was a Barbadian beach party in song form, a dancehall-pop blast that announced a new voice on the scene. In one single, the Barbados-born newcomer went from unknown to trendsetter, helping fuel a mid-‘00s dancehall revival alongside Jamaican stars like Sean Paul, Lady Saw, and Beenie Man. Rihanna had arrived—Music of the Sun would prove she was no one-hit wonder.
Executive produced by veteran hitmakers Evan Rogers and Carl Sturken, the pop maestros who discovered Rihanna and had a “laundry list” of teen-pop credits from the previous decade, the record showcased a savvy blend of Caribbean rhythms with urban dance-pop hooks, a formula the producers cheekily dubbed “Caribbean-inflected urban.” What Rogers and Sturken did irresistibly shrewdly was to synthesize dancehall, reggae, and soca elements with standard R&B/pop songcraft. The result is an immediately catchy sound, accessible to global pop audiences, yet flavored with just enough island spice to give Rihanna a distinctive niche. “Pon de Replay” is the obvious Exhibit A: though at its core it’s a straightforward dance-pop song in English, it rides a heavy dancehall beat and patois chorus, complete with a “can’t-miss singalong hook” tailor-made for MTV rotation. Rihanna’s silky voice slips between an island lilt and an urban pop polish, embodying this fusion. And importantly, she sells it with ease. In an R&B landscape crowded with Beyoncé, Ashanti, Ciara, and company, Rihanna staked out her own sunny corner.
Crucially, Music of the Sun doesn’t stop at “Pon de Replay” when it comes to Caribbean-infused urban dance-pop gems. The album’s opening stretch is packed with tropical energy and sing-along choruses, deftly showcasing Rihanna’s Caribbean-pop persona. “Here I Go Again,” the second track (featuring Barbadian reggae outfit J-Status), immediately continues the island vibes. Built on mid-tempo classic reggae cadences and gentle syncopation, the song finds Rihanna crooning about romantic déjà vu while slipping in her first-ever playful “oh na na” ad-lib on record, a signature vocal quirk she’d famously echo years later on 2010’s “What’s My Name?” The breezy “Here I Go Again” truly lives up to the album’s title, radiating a sun-drenched vibe that feels like toes in the sand at a Barbados beach party. Its producers, Rogers and Sturken, keep the arrangement light and melodic, allowing Rihanna’s lightly accented vocals to shine.
“If It’s Lovin’ That You Want” maintains the summery momentum while adding a twist of soca flavor. At heart, this song, released as the album’s second single, is a midtempo R&B/pop tune about a girl confidently assuring a boy that she’s got what he needs. But thanks to its clever production, it carries a subtle carnival feel. The Trackmasters team (Poke & Tone) co-produced it with Rogers/Sturken, infusing a steel drum-accented soca spin into the beat. In fact, the groove interpolates a hook from the 1988 Caribbean hip-hop jam “Wee Rule” by the Wee Papa Girl Rappers, layering an old-school party vibe beneath Rihanna’s sultry melody. The result is irresistibly breezy – the sound of an afternoon beach jam translated into a radio-friendly R&B track. Over the percolating island rhythm, Rihanna’s voice is sweet yet assured as she sings, “If it’s lovin’ that you want, you should make me your girl.” Backed by the flares of steel-pan percussion, she sounds utterly at home. And more importantly, this follow-up single demonstrated that Rihanna wasn’t just riding one big hit. With its soca-lite bounce, “If It’s Lovin’ That You Want” provided evidence that Rihanna was more than a one-hit wonder; she could anchor a pop song with island vibes and still crack the charts.
The album’s commitment to Caribbean rhythm goes beyond just flavoring original songs; Rihanna also pays direct homage to reggae history. “You Don’t Love Me (No, No, No)” is a faithful cover of Dawn Penn’s 1960s/90s rocksteady classic of (nearly) the same name. Over a mellow, skanking groove updated with polished production, Rihanna reinterprets the timeless chorus “No, no, no…” in her own youthful voice. To give the track extra authenticity, Jamaican dancehall star Vybz Kartel drops in, toasting in his ragga patois and ratcheting up the island club vibe. The fusion of Rihanna’s smooth singing with Vybz’s gritty deejaying works surprisingly well, bridging generations of Caribbean music. Other album cuts continue in the vein of island-inflected dance-pop. The energetic “Rush” keeps the dancefloor momentum rolling, with Rihanna riding a percolating beat while Canadian rapper Kardinal Offishall – known for mixing dancehall into hip-hop – jumps in for a quick guest verse. It’s a fast-paced track clearly designed to capitalize on the sweaty, uptempo energy of “Pon de Replay”. And “That La, La, La,” produced by ‘80s freestyle legends Full Force, finds Rihanna flexing a bit of hip-hop soul attitude atop a dubby reggae-tinged groove.
Yet, for all its sun-kissed charm, Music of the Sun is not without flaws. The album loses steam when it strays from the Caribbean party formula into more generic R&B territory. After the opening burst of island jams, the middle stretch sinks into a suite of slower love songs that, while capably sung, lack the distinct personality of the upbeat tracks. It’s a familiar pitfall for many debut pop/R&B albums of the era: front-load the hits, then pad out the runtime with syrupy ballads to showcase “versatility.” On Music of the Sun, these downtempo numbers unfortunately blur together. The unique Caribbean spark fades as the album progresses, replaced by fairly standard-issue R&B balladry. For example, “Willing to Wait” comes off as Rihanna’s own version of Janet Jackson’s chaste slow jam “Let’s Wait Awhile,” and not in a particularly innovative way. The title track “Music of the Sun” likewise aims for a romantic, feel-good vibe, even incorporating a sample of DeBarge’s “Rhythm of the Night” for added nostalgia, but it ends up a bit schmaltzy and dated despite its noble homage to Caribbean unity. “Now I Know” is a fully stripped-down, strings-soaked R&B ballad clearly meant to showcase Rihanna’s vocal maturity, but it arguably overreaches, and is out of step with Rihanna’s youthful, hip image.
The uptempo tracks on Music of the Sun were strong enough that they eclipsed the filler in our memories. The album managed to debut in the Top 10 of the Billboard 200 and quickly earn a Gold certification, thanks largely to the enormous pull of “Pon de Replay” and the emerging curiosity about this new Caribbean girl on JAY-Z’s roster. And wisely, the album doesn’t truly end on a slow note. The album’s strengths, its infectious summer-jam energy and its bold fusion of Caribbean sounds with mainstream pop, foreshadowed much of Rihanna’s trajectory in the years to come. Rihanna would continue to deliver feel-good island-influenced hits throughout her discography, from 2010’s dancehall-flavored “Rude Boy” to 2016’s smash “Work” (with its patois-laced hook that echoed the club commands of “Pon de Replay”). In that sense, Music of the Sun was a primer for Rihanna, as it established the West Indian musical roots that she would return to, even as she expanded into new genres. At the same time, the album’s more conventional R&B moments hinted at Rihanna’s versatility and willingness to experiment, something that would become even more evident on subsequent albums. Her very next projects saw her dabbling in everything from pop-rock (“SOS” from A Girl Like Me, 2006) to icy electro-R&B (“Umbrella” from Good Girl Gone Bad, 2007), but she never lost that island girl spirit introduced on Music of the Sun.
And of course, the commercial ascent that started with “Pon de Replay” only skyrocketed, within a few years Rihanna was racking up number-one hits and multi-platinum albums at a furious pace. Today, she stands as one of the best-selling pop superstars of the 21st century, having sold over 250 million records worldwide and redefined the possibilities for Caribbean artists on the global stage. It’s remarkable to think that all of that influence began with this breezy 52-minute collection of island-infused dance-pop. Music of the Sun may be a modest debut in retrospect, even Rihanna has evolved immeasurably since, but its legacy looms large. In its sunlit grooves and youthful confidence, one can hear the dawn of a superstar. Rihanna’s first album invited the world to dance to the music of the sun, and the world, as it turned out, was more than happy to oblige.