What are the essential characteristics of a pop star? Natural talent? A striking look? Undeniable charisma? All wholly necessary, but what about an inherent sense of culture and how it informs the art you want to make? Less essential than those first three, to be sure, but it’s also exactly what set Robyn Rihanna Fenty apart from any of her perceived peers at the time of her debut, charting a path to stardom, global influence, and untold riches.

Music of the Sun’s first track and lead single “Pon de Replay” finds the then-17-year-old channeling the dancehall parties she was too young to drink at, calling out popular dances of the time and sing-toasting her way to a crossover smash in the vein of Lumidee’s “Never Leave You.” Unlike “Never Leave You,” however, “Pon de Replay” was only the start.

Rihanna would take on—and slay—vintage lovers rock in “Here I Go Again,” but after a brief interval of the more straightforward pop-R&B of “If It’s Lovin’ That You Want,” the singer was right back to her Caribbean roots with “You Don’t Love Me (No, No, No),” a cover of a Dawn Penn classic that features then yet-to-be-crowned king of dancehall Vybz Kartel. (Kartel would double back to immortalize his collaborator some years later with “Pale Blue Dot [Rihanna Wine].”) And a young Rihanna’s taste extended well beyond the sounds of liming. “That La, La, La,” co-written by ’80s R&B hunks turned pop-music super writers Full Force, is the kind of glammed-up R&B that singers like Beyoncé, Amerie, and J. Lo once used as a calling card. “Willing to Wait,” which contains an interpolation of Deniece Williams’ airy ’76 soul ballad “Free,” and “There’s a Thug in My Life,” which boasts melodies from DeBarge’s “A Dream,” are, topically, gentle reminders of just how much life a young RiRi has yet to live.

Rounding out the album’s guests are Jamaican R&B quartet J-Status; the MC who brought Canadian patois to the world before Drake, Kardinal Offishall; and arguably the most recognizable Jamaican deejay of the era, Elephant Man. Music of the Sun’s title track may feature yet another nod to ’80s R&B in its interpolation of DeBarge’s “Rhythm of the Night,” but its chorus reveals Rihanna’s ultimate goal here: inviting the world into her yard. “Doesn't matter who you are or where you're from,” she sings. “Come and dance to the music of the sun.”

Released less than eight months after her debut, 2005’s Music of the Sun, Rihanna’s second album furthered the mainstreaming of her Caribbean influences while also revealing the full scope of her vocal and sonic range. She fused her reggae and dancehall credentials with pop and rock elements, revealing an artist with firm homegrown roots and massive global ambitions.

Across its 13 tracks, A Girl Like Me tells the story of a woman coming into her own, displaying the Barbadian singer-songwriter’s vocal and lyrical maturity. Album opener “SOS” samples Soft Cell’s classic ’80s smash hit “Tainted Love” in both sound and mood, as Rihanna tells a story of being consumed by love. Here, Rihanna is equal parts dance floor queen and lovestruck teen, aware of the danger of losing herself in love—yet loving every minute of it. “SOS” was a bold statement of intent from a singer-songwriter who knew she could tackle any sound and make it her own, and it worked—the song topped Billboard’s Hot 100 and dance charts.

Co-written by Evan Rogers and Carl Sturken—who, along with this album, also produced much of Music of the Sun—this album’s title track best encapsulates Rihanna’s journey of self-discovery. As she asserts in the hook, Rihanna’s “a little different from all the rest,” a declaration of independence from an artist who knows exactly where she’s from—and where she’s headed.

Good Girl Gone Bad has it all, boasting a prescient genre-agnosticism decades ahead of the pop landscape. “Shut Up and Drive” is high-octane New Wave rock ’n’ roll, for example, though the record is largely classified as pop R&B, while “Disturbia” charms with its gothic disco. There’s also a deep understanding of the importance of worldwide dance-pop hits, particularly with “Don’t Stop the Music,” courtesy of Norwegian producers Stargate, and its clever sample of Michael Jackson’s “mama-say, mama-sa, ma-ma-koosa" from his 1983 single “Wanna Be Startin’ Somethin’.”

The record isn’t stacked exclusively with timeless classics—the pursuit of perfection is a fool’s errand—but even the non-blockbuster tracks stand out as exemplars of their time. Looking for a smooth-like-butter acoustic R&B ballad challenging Beyoncé’s “Irreplaceable”? It’s “Hate That I Love You” featuring Ne-Yo. Or maybe it’s spacey, existential R&B with an ’80s-inspired spoken-word interlude you’re after? Look no further than “Question Existing.” Or do you prefer late-2000s sounds to be stacked with orchestral instruments and melancholic metaphor? That’s all “Rehab,” co-written by Justin Timberlake and produced by Timbaland. Good Girl Gone Bad remains the opening note for all the culture-shifting music Rihanna would create in the years that followed—as well as the legacies she’d inspire.

“That Rihanna reign just won’t let up,” Rihanna confidently boasts on “Hard,” the third track on her fourth album. The statement was undeniable. At the top of 2009, she found herself thrown into a media circus following a highly publicized domestic violence incident with then-boyfriend Chris Brown. But rather than go into hiding, the pop star fearlessly stared trauma in the face. Rated R, the singer’s fourth album, found her channelling Janet Jackson’s Control as she not only redefined her artistic identity, but also reclaimed her narrative as a woman.

Her most personal album to date, Rated R is more like a therapy session filled with raw and often uncomfortable honesty. A darker, unnerving energy engulfs the album, with Rihanna juggling various bouts of vitriol, revenge, faith, and freedom. It’s here where she officially births her “bad gal” persona. There were hints of it during 2007’s Good Girl Gone Bad era (from slicing her hair into a dark bob to singing over edgier production), but Rated R unveils the complete transformation. The majority of Rated R finds Rihanna trying to navigate how she moves on from such a publicized and personal moment. In contrast to previous albums, she’s now developed a rock-hard shell. But she still allows listeners to crack it open as she pours out her soul in ballads more than ever. “Stupid in Love” is a confessional ballad where she struggles to let go of a toxic flame, while the will.i.am-assisted “Photographs” reminisces on a happier time. “Fire Bomb” is the album’s highlight: one of her most underrated and vulnerable songs, in which she details just how torturous love can become if you’re not careful.

Rated R is Rihanna’s rebel yell. She completely dismissed any mainstream appeal left over from her previous releases and remained true to her identity. It set the tone for what would come for future albums, where she would continue to experiment with various genres and be even more willing to share her most intimate thoughts without a care about what critics thought. No one else could tell Rihanna’s story but her, and that very tenacity is just why she remains an unshakeable pop icon.

Loud is a kaleidoscopic reflection of Rihanna’s personality, spiralling from cheeky to vulnerable to unabashedly taboo. The ferocious “S&M” is filled to the brim with “na-na-na, come on!” come-hither chants and sexually suggestive lyrics as the singer explores the world of bondage and fetishes. Not one to take herself too seriously, though, the bedroom anthem winks with playfulness. “Sticks and stones may break my bones/But chains and whips excite me,” she growls atop Hi-NRG production dotted with fuzzy keyboard riffs. The confidence continues with “Skin,” one of Rihanna’s most alluring tunes, as she seductively purrs over a beat that fuses R&B with languid trip-hop.

While Loud may be a more pop-leaning record, Rihanna continues to celebrate her Bajan roots, injecting tropical doses on the dancehall-tinged “What’s My Name?” Featuring frequent collaborator Drake, the chart-topper highlights the pair’s palpable chemistry as they trade flirtatious pickup lines: “The square root of 69 is eight somethin’, right?/’Cause I’ve been tryna work it out.” “Man Down” is deeply rooted in Caribbean reggae, as Rihanna details a vengeful tale of being on the run after pulling the trigger, echoing the suspenseful style of Bob Marley & The Wailers’ 1973 single “I Shot The Sheriff.”

Threaded throughout the album are ballads centred on love’s ebbs and flows: the Enya-sampling “Fading” is a lightweight R&B midtempo where Rihanna moves on from an inconsistent lover; “California King Bed” is a heartbreaking power ballad as the singer desperately tries to save a relationship that’s growing more distant by the minute. The album closer “Love the Way You Lie, Pt. II” with Eminem, the sequel to the rapper’s hit single, tells Rihanna’s side of a broken love story over a tearful piano melody. Loud set off Rihanna’s pop explosion, and she’s remained music’s most fun party girl ever since.

Rihanna was no stranger to EDM by the time her sixth album, Talk That Talk, was in the works: “Don’t Stop the Music,” off 2007’s Good Girl Gone Bad, quickly became a ubiquitous dance-floor standard; she dipped her toes into dubstep on 2009’s Rated R and collaborated with David Guetta for a track off his own 2009 album, One Love; and 2010’s “Only Girl (In the World),” Loud’s earth-shaking single, pulsed with the kind of shimmering, synthetic elements fit for the top of the charts and the clubs of Ibiza

But with “We Found Love” and “Where Have You Been,” two of the tunes that kicked off her Talk That Talk era, she reached a new echelon of electronic alchemy while cementing her status as a fearless pop star who thrives in the experimental space between genres. Co-written and -helmed by prolific DJ/producer Calvin Harris, “We Found Love” and “Where Have You Been” not only set a new benchmark for Rihanna’s vocal performance, but they also gave the Navy two contrasting dance anthems—the former a euphoric ode to love itself, the latter a moody, urgent search for understanding and affection. Both would go on to be pillars in Rihanna and Harris’ respective setlists, but “We Found Love” remains their shared greatest hit: It spent 10 weeks at No. 1, and its video, filmed by renowned director (and frequent Ri collaborator) Melina Matsoukas, took home a Grammy and a VMA.

Yet in spite of the dance largesse of “We Found Love” and “Where Have You Been”—as well as “Drunk on Love,” which had Rihanna crooning over The xx’s “Intro”—Talk That Talk was as eclectic as her prior albums, in that these dance smashes were right at home next to power ballads (“We All Want Love,” “Farewell”), an appearance from longtime partner in rhyme JAY-Z (“Talk That Talk”), unfiltered, R-rated sexploits ebbing over heavy beats (“Cockiness [Love It],” “Red Lipstick”), and blissful flirtations (“You Da One,” “Do Ya Thang”). Each song throws back to a sound, aesthetic, or genre she’s experimented with before, from her dance inclinations to her Caribbean lilt and her omnivorous embrace of rock, rap, and every genre in between. And though it delivered an exceptional vocal showing from Rihanna and the hypnotizing, can’t-let-go choruses her fans have loved since her “Pon de Replay” days, she levelled up.

The Unapologetic era was anchored by vulnerability, with the No. 1 lead single “Diamonds” revealing a different side of Rihanna. Rather than choosing a fast-paced club anthem for the first single as she’s done with albums prior, she instead opted to slow the tempo. The choice was similar to the Rated R rollout (which was led by the melancholic ballad “Russian Roulette”) and displayed the artist’s growing maturity. Working with Sia for the first time, Rihanna brought her poetic lyrics to life with one of her strongest vocal performances to date. The overarching theme of “Diamonds” is wrapped in love, but Rihanna’s throaty, yearning timbre amps the song’s emotions.

Unapologetic is more introspective, with songs like “Love Without Tragedy/Mother Mary” detailing a self-awareness with her ever-growing celebrity influence: “Mother Mary, I swear I wanna change/Mister Jesus, I’d love to be a queen/But I’m from the left side of an island/Never thought this many people would even know my name.” The crashing ballad “What Now” finds her searching for answers as she tries to figure out what life path she should take, while the Chris Brown-assisted “Nobody’s Business” and deluxe track “Half of Me” reveal how fed up she is with the media’s perception. “You saw me on a television, hanging out my dirty linen,” she muses on the latter. “You’re entitled to your own opinion/Sit and shake your head at my decisions.”

But Unapologetic is not all serious. Rihanna finds balance by doubling down on her “bad gal” persona, paired with a heightened version of her signature sex appeal. The hedonistic “Pour It Up” adds a strip-club banger to her party catalogue, and the fashion-forward “Phresh Out the Runway” highlights her edgy charm. What most people adore about Rihanna is how human she is, and Unapologetic captures that relatability. She’s not afraid to showcase her imperfections, making her one of music’s most humble divas.

After giving the world a decade of nonstop hits, the big question for Rihanna was “What’s next?” Well, she was going to wait a little longer than expected to reveal the answer. Four years separated Unapologetic and her eighth album. But she didn’t completely escape from the spotlight during the mini hiatus. Rather, she experimented in real time by dropping one-off singles like the acoustic folk “FourFiveSeconds” collaboration with Kanye West and Paul McCartney, the patriotic ballad “American Oxygen,” and the feisty “Bitch Better Have My Money.” The sonic direction she was going to land on for ANTI was still murky, but those songs were subtle hints nonetheless.

ANTI says it all in the title: The album is the complete antithesis of Pop Star Rihanna. From the abstract cover art (which features a poem written in braille) to newfound autonomy after leaving her longtime record label, Def Jam, to form her own, ANTI shattered all expectations of what a structured pop album should sound like—not only for her own standards, but also for fellow artists who wanted to demolish industry rules. And the risk worked in her favour: it became the singer’s second No. 1 LP.

“I got to do things my own way, darling/Will you ever let me?/Will you ever respect me?” Rihanna mockingly asks on the opening track, “Consideration.” In response, the rest of the album dives headfirst into fearlessness where she doesn’t hesitate to get sensual, vulnerable, and just a little weird.

What’s most notable throughout ANTI is Rihanna’s vocal expansion, from her whisky-coated wails on the late-night voicemail that is “Higher” to breathing smoke on her rerecorded version of Tame Impala’s “New Person, Same Old Mistakes.” Yet the signature Rihanna DNA remained on the album. The singer proudly celebrated her Caribbean heritage on the aforementioned “Work,” presented women with yet another kiss-off anthem with “Needed Me,” and flaunted her erotic side on deluxe track “Sex With Me.” Ever the sonic explorer, she also continued to uncover new genres by going full ’50s doo-wop on “Love on the Brain” and channeling Prince for the velvety ’80s power-pop ballad “Kiss It Better.” ANTI is not only Rihanna’s brilliant magnum opus, but it’s also a sincere declaration of freedom as she embraces her fully realized womanhood.