All Hail Rihanna… and Baby Bump
Super Bowl LVII’s Slick and Stylish Solo Session, with Snark.
The Super Bowl LVII solo halftime show was a fresh break from the attention deficit delivery that Americans often feel they must absolutely have NOT JUST ONE, BUT MANY artists performing simultaneously every time, every year. It’s flashy, but with incremental ostentatiousness and the compulsion to out do every circus-like performance each year is in fact just another circus. Contrary to some critics, I found Rihanna’s solo ride and fab flock of loose fit fashion dancers refreshing.
I somehow sensed that Rihanna was pregnant the moment I saw her step out onto the stage wearing that FOOTWEAR: not just couture fashion, but Hyper-Inflated-Sole-Caution-This-Woman-Is-Pregnant shoes. Rihanna noticeably dialed down the all out physical dance moves that we’ve watched her perform on her previous tours. Then I noticed a body bump holding a wee bit high for postpartum bountifulness. Ah, very cute. Congratulations.
Rihanna sang over her own music, a wise move considering floating, moving stages and the audio challenges they present. She did not lip sync. A notable nod to Fenty Beauty via cosmetic touch up followed by a hand off of the microphone back to Rihanna validated the need for both track in addition to live vocals. Mic is hot. Mic is hot. Roll up. Roll up.
Rihanna was covered from the neck down in clothing and then some, but that did not stop conservative crackpots calling her appearance in RED the devil or demonic. The same crackpots already so drunk by halftime that they totally forgot opening ceremonies with icon Sheryl Lee Ralph singing the religious hymn “Lift Your Voice and Sing” while wearing a more revealing RED strapless.
With her song “S&M,” Rihanna could have singlehandedly slayed the pearl-clutching *old man yells at cloud* crowd and required new arena standards for cardiopulmonary resuscitation, but we only heard its riffs swiftly sampled as a mix instead. TEASE.
We did hear a nice array of songs from her anthology, including the salacious “Pour It Up,” slow anthem of exotic dancers. Wait. She didn’t just say that actual lyric, did she? Critics sharply rebuked some of Rihanna’s below the belt gesturing, but “Who cares how you haters feel? And I still got my money…” That’s how we ball out.
In the final moments of the halftime show, the rising tension wire platform stage holding Rihanna swayed just a bit more than expected, heightening my acute aeroacrophobic anxiety along with it. Nope nope nope nope nope. Hell no. Please say those Maison Margiela x Salomon Sneakers have anti-slip suction cups. Yet Yas Queen Caribbean remained visually cool, calm, and collected. Critics would likely choke if they eyeballed the evening’s insurance policy on that $1.5 billion beauty. Plus one.
Rihanna’s Super Bowl performance was not paid, but halftime dancers reportedly receive about $750 for their game day performance, and $45 for every hour of dance rehearsal. For that cash and opportunity of a lifetime, many would have zero problem wearing busted Chinese spy balloon.
For headline talent, Super Bowl performances pay it forward in publicity and repercussive revenue. Oh. All I see is signs. All we see are dollar signs. Wishing you the best, RiRi.
