Rihanna feat. Drake- “What’s My Name”
From her album Loud

My current favorite song on the radio begins with a run of Rihanna’s playful but insouciant chorus, but the goofy Drake lead-off verse is what makes everything interesting. In his first lines, he intones: “I heard you good with them soft lips / Yeah, you know word of mouth,” spreading gossip (and embarrassing puns) like a twelve-year-old who heard about the girl behind the bleachers. Then, just in case that wasn’t immature enough, he makes a joke about sixty-nine.

Even when he’s rapping about actually having sex, Drake’s not really rapping about having sex. It’s all build-up or atmosphere, from the point of an imagined observer instead of a participant. He’s worried more about opening a window to “air it out”—and thus get rid of the evidence—than he is about pleasing a woman or himself. This is Drizzy’s chance to give us the nasty details about fame as the ultimate aphrodisiac. Instead, the line that sticks out the most is “What we could do with twenty minutes, girl,” which trails off, a dreamy lament in an imagination more rich than a flesh-smacking reality. And it’s just funny to imagine him sending a text that reads in full: “Oh na na…what’s my name?”*

I’m not saying Drake doesn’t want to have sex with women—although, to be fair, he does know brand names of concealers and wants to get married “just to say we fuckin’ did it”—but he does sound like someone who hasn’t ever really smashed here. Then again, all of his music is about watching your life unspool at a remove, swept up in your own tornado of self-conscious* ambition. So why would a sex song be any different?

That inandof itself is not what’s captivating about the track though. I’m really intrigued by the contrast between his tentative, distanced stance and Rihanna’s confidence. She takes over the role of the Girl behind the Bleachers, never to give Drake another breath on the song, and her first line is “Everybody knows how to work my body.” She’s not only experienced; she’s easy.

The rest of her vocal is as much a dare as a plea: She really wants to see if a boy can go downtown wid’ a girl like her, not just for her own sake. After all, “What’s my name?” is as much a demand as it is a question. And by the time that airy chorus hits, she even sounds desperate for whatever Drake is imagining—the act, not the thought of it, is literally driving her crazy. She is challenged only by her own limits. While Ri-Ri can be just as shamefully obvious as Drake is, (“Every door you enter, I will let you in”…does that include cracked windows?) she’s also much more present in the moment. She is taking what she wants.

This is the type of song that restores what duets were always supposed to be: varying viewpoints delivered with conviction and personality. It makes total sense that Rihanna comes across just as aggressive and liberated as Drake is resigned and expectant—that’s who they are—but we don’t bat an eye at what is a total given: They’ve reversed traditional gender roles. If men are from Mars and women are from Venus, then Rihanna is from Mercury and Drake is from the pizza our very excellent mothers made. And if there’s a little truth to all jokes and art, then there’s a lot of truth to the story that, irl, Drake felt “used” by Rihanna in their (fake) relationship.

Even though this is probably only the third best song titled “What’s My Name,” can you think of another song in the history of music that combines a rapping male who sounds this deferential and a singing female who sounds this demanding? Yet we don’t even bat an eye. What does that say most about: Drake, Rihanna, or men and women in the twenty-first century?

*- I may or may not have sent this exact text, out-of-context, to my wife.
*- How self-conscious is Drake? Watch the beginning of the video again. He’s buying Listerine strips at the bodega.