Rihanna’s new album, Loud, has received a lot of positive reviews, and invariably each of them mentions that it’s a “return to form” or “welcome homecoming” as compared to last year’s very dark Rated R. This is a common pattern in music reviews that has always bugged me… the need to diminish an artist’s previous album in order to celebrate a new one.

Those same reviewers fell all over themselves last year praising Rated R as a gritty, emotional powerhouse of a pop album (Entertainment Weekly even named it the best album of 2009). But it’s always tempting to paint every success as rebound or redemption.

To be fair, Rated R documented a disturbing time in Rihanna’s young life and Loud does sound like the light at the end of the tunnel. I suppose that’s what reviewers mean when they draw the comparison. But while it may represent a step up for Rihanna personally, it’s a step down artistically.

I suspect that’s just fine with Rihanna. Other than sonically, this isn’t an ambitious album. Its songs are sexy and fun, designed to make you move, not think. She poses seductively on the front cover, eyes closed, her parted lips painted red to match her hair. This isn’t the vengeful goddess of 2009 but a flirtatious and vivacious re-imagining of Rihanna’s public persona.

And the woman knows how to make an album. Her production team crafts grooves you can sink your teeth into and her choruses are memorable after just one listen. I know she gets a lot of crap for her live singing voice, which is “pitchy” and not as powerful as that of many of her R&B peers, but she sounds wonderful on record.

Sure, that has a lot to do with modern production techniques, but it’s also a testament to her unique delivery. On Loud, she really plays up her Barbadian accent and that island lilt makes all the difference. I suppose it’s a fact of the modern age that artists who delight on record can fall flat live, but I’m happy to live with that.

The songs on Loud are as hook-laden as anything she’s put out, but they feel more like junk food than her previous hits. Opening track ‘S&M is as subtle as a sledgehammer, with Rihanna growling “sex in the air… I love the smell of it” and “sticks and stones may break my bones but whips and chains excite me.”

‘What’s My Name,’ the #1 hit single featuring Drake, has a Spanish rhythm similar to Rated R‘s ‘Te Amo’ and might just turn “oh na na” into this year’s equivalent of the “eh eh eh” Rihanna delivered on ‘Umbrella.’ Drake does his part to both dirty our teens’ minds and improve their math skills with this couplet: “The square root of 69 is 8-something…”

Two other collaborations stand out. First is the frantic ‘Raining Men,’ on which rapper Nicki Minaj delivers a schizoid verse that solidifies her status as the female Eminem. The other is Rihanna’s pair-up with the actual Eminem, ‘Love the Way You Lie (Part II),’ a sequel to their smash hit from his Recovery.

The album’s other #1 hit, ‘Only Girl (In the World),’ sounds like a Donna Summer classic crossed with the stabbing synths of the C&C Music Factory. It’s a kick to watch my 4-year-old dance to this one.

‘Fading’ proves that an Enya sample can really work on an R&B ballad and ‘Cheers (Drink to That)’ proves that an Avril Lavigne sample is the missing ingredient in a Happy Hour anthem. Both songs are early highlights.

Less successful are ‘California King Bed’ (a touching enough song but I can’t shake the feeling that the title and chorus belong in a Rooms 2 Go ad) and ‘Skin,’ a plodding come-on that slows the album down right when it should be ramping up.

But my favorite song on Loud is the Caribbean-flavored ‘Man Down,’ in which Rihanna really lets her Barbadian flag fly as she scats over sirens and reggae beats about shooting a man down in Central Station. “Brum pum pum pum, brum pum pum pum, man down” she taunts in that irresistible accent.

While Loud is a step down for Rihanna in terms of quality, it’s still a success. Rated R was a special case, an emotional outpouring borne of a violent attack. I’d like to think Rihanna can stretch those artistic muscles again sometime without having to suffer first to do it. In the meantime, making the party record of the year isn’t a bad way to go.