Rihanna's Been Trolling Us About R9 for Nearly a Decade Now
Let’s just get this out of the way: Rihanna does not owe you an album. She does not owe me an album. She does not owe the entire concept of recorded music a goddamn thing. And yet, here we are, in the year of our Lord 2025, still refreshing her Instagram like a bunch of raccoons pawing at a empty trash can, hoping against hope that this time—*this time*—she’s gonna announce *R9*.
Spoiler alert: she is not.
Instead, what did we get this week? Another Fenty drop. Another Savage X Fenty collection that makes me feel personally attacked for owning a single pair of $12 Hanes underwear. Another photo of her looking effortlessly expensive on a yacht somewhere, probably sipping a drink that costs more than my rent, while the rest of us spiral into a collective existential crisis about the state of pop music.
And honestly? Good for her. Genuinely. This woman has cracked the code. She figured out that the music industry is a rigged game where you grind yourself into dust for streaming pennies, and she said “nah, I’m gonna sell lip gloss and lingerie to the masses and become a billionaire instead.” That’s not a sellout. That’s a prison break.
But let’s talk about the *Anticipation*. *Anti* came out in 2016. That was eight—almost nine—years ago. For context, in the time since Rihanna last released an album, we’ve had a global pandemic, two Olympic Games, the entire rise and fall of TikTok trends, and at least four different iterations of the “hot girl summer” aesthetic. I’ve aged. You’ve aged. Rihanna has somehow gotten younger. It’s deeply unfair and I respect it immensely.
Meanwhile, her fanbase—affectionately known as the Navy—has descended into full-blown cult behavior. They’re like a group of doomsday preppers who’ve been waiting for a spaceship that was supposed to arrive in 2019. Every time she posts a photo of herself in a studio, they lose their minds. Every time she doesn’t, they threaten to riot. It’s a cycle of abuse, and we’re all consenting adults who keep coming back for more.
I saw a comment the other day that said, “Rihanna is holding R9 hostage and we’re the ransom.” And like, yeah. That’s accurate. But here’s the thing: she’s not holding anything hostage. She’s just living her life. She had two babies. She built an empire. She’s been in a happy relationship with A$AP Rocky, who seems like the kind of guy who’d show up to a family barbecue with a blunt and a vintage leather jacket. She’s winning at a game most of us didn’t even know we were playing.
And yet, the internet—bless its deeply unserious heart—keeps acting like she personally wronged them by not releasing *Umbrella 2.0*. It’s giving “my ex didn’t text me back” energy. It’s giving “I paid for a subscription and I want my money’s worth.” It’s giving AITA: “Am I the asshole for expecting a billionaire to prioritize my Spotify playlist over her actual life?”
Yes. Yes, you are. But also, same. I get it. I want the album too.
But here’s the uncomfortable truth that no one wants to admit: we don’t actually want new Rihanna music. We want *old* Rihanna music. We want to feel the way we felt in 2010 when “Only Girl (In the World)” came on at a party and everyone lost their collective minds. We want to be transported back to a time when our biggest problem was whether we had enough data on our phone to stream “Work” on repeat. We want nostalgia, not innovation. And Rihanna, being a savvy businesswoman, probably knows that better than anyone.
Because let’s be real: if she drops an
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