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Okay, fine. It's one of the great songs on the new Rihanna album, Rated R. I went and heard it at her record label yesterday. Two key points that stick out after just one front-to-back listen: First of all, Rihanna attacked this new album aggressively. She says "motherfucker," "bitches" and the N-word on it (sorry, Oprah). It's got violent revenge fantasies. And sex fantasies. Often she seems to be singing directly to Chris Brown. And sonically, it can be brutally dark. If her mentor Jay-Z pops up on a remix of one of these tracks (let's hope it's "Rock Star"), he definitely won't be referring to her as "Little Miss Sunshine" again. And you're damn right this thing is getting a Parental Advisory sticker.

The second key to Rated R: The album reminds you in no uncertain terms that Ri-Ri isn't an R&B singer. She's a pop star, and pop stardom requires musical versatility. She does Kelly Clarkson pop-punk ("Firebomb"). She does hip-hop heavy R&B ("Hard" featuring Young Jeezy). She does a dancehall-referencing club anthem ("Rudeboy"). And she takes a page from Michael Jackson's "Dirty Diana" playbook and borrows heavily from hard rock ("Rock Star" featuring Slash). But our favorite track is the sweeping, grandiose, almost ludicrously over-stuffed and endless album closer "Cold Case Love," written with Justin Timberlake. A little bit Phil Collins, a little bit Lionel Richie, a lot bit Justin Timberlake's "Losin My Way," the song is epic, evocative, on-message (eat shit, Chris Brown) and just plain catchy. It's like, CALL JUSTIN AND TELL HIM TO BRING THE PLATINUM-PLATED KITCHEN SINK. Yes! That's exactly what you want from the most anticipated pop album on planet earth. Rated R comes out November 23rd.