We love her jacket at least…right?

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[3.38]Pete Baran: I get a sense that this kind of anthemic mid-tempo track which may have previously hidden on the album has been legitimised by Rihanna’s success in this area. And while Rita Orr may just be a Primark Rihanna, these days that’s not necessarily a bad thing. Enough to get your lighter out, not enough to hold it in the air for the whole track.
[6]

Katherine St Asaph: Who wants to bet “Rocstars” (as in “hey there, _______, turn up your radio”) was the name management picked out for Rita’s fanbase before “Ritabots” happened? None of the writers know the difference between light and fire, but that works somehow: this inspiro-popstep hybrid really does sound like the soundtrack to waving lighters then burning shit, or at least posing that way. In that metaphor, Rita’s the oxygen: necessary, but imperceptible.
[4]

Jonathan Bogart: The near-subliminal reggae rhythm does its job of providing the spiritual authenticity that everything else – from her singing to the generic inspirational lyrics to the assaultive blares of the music – lacks.
[3]

Iain Mew: The scale of everything is so excessive that it betrays a lack of confidence. That chorus might not be ginormous enough so here, have an airhorn on top of it! You like reggae and/or Hard-Fi? You like the electronic swizzle bits that go between brostep drops? Have some huge attempts at all of them, on top of each other! The cumulative effect is unfocussed bordering on wearying, but Rita powers through it all in a way that comes closer to suggesting there might be a point to her yet than anything else has so far.
[5]

Anthony Easton: I want a longitudinal, clinically secure study, funded by a government agency, that will tell us once and for all if this kind of inspirational pap is effective in getting anyone to do anything.
[2]

Alfred Soto: Homiletic overkill causes rickety structure to collapse.
[4]

Will Adams: Any innate personality “light” Rita may have has only been filtered through shards of Rihanna– or Jessie J-stained glass. For those keeping score, “Shine Ya Light” uses the former, but you could have figured that out from Rita’s opening deadpan, “Hey there, rockstars.” But with hooks this dull and production this threadbare, this charisma gap is the least of her worries.
[3]

Brad Shoup: Every moment is an anti-moment, hours of uninspiration distilled into 3.5 minutes that only the hardiest of marketing goons could wrap a smile around. I relegate this to two weeks of beds during the third hour of The Herd with Colin Cowherd.
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