Mariah Carey: The Accidental Comedienne

 Mariah Carey is the Rainman of pop music. Focused, blank faced and sometimes capable of genius. Each toothpick lying on the diner floor is a hit song; each cheese puff is a music video featuring a greased-up, jiggling Mariah bearing an expression that translates to either a)Tabula Rasa; or b) “I’ve had too much turkey dinner.” I can’t tell. My Latin ain’t so good.
It goes without saying that Mariah Carey is an undisputed talent who has achieved greatness. She has a reported 5-octave voice and has sold something in the neighborhood of, what – like 200 million records?  Amazing! I used to get chills listening to she and Whitney Houston dominate radio in the early 90s with pop songs that showcased considerable soul and range. Like major powerhouse vocal business. It just knocked me to hear voices like that. Whitney disappeared from the scene and Mariah stole it, supplementing her vocal range with some kind of fantastical Hip Hop genie oil that, when applied directly to skin, creates MTV and radio perfection. A quick scan through music video history finds Mariah in all manner of locale (a school, a countryside hoedown, in water, in posh cars, on various silk beds, in her knickers, in bikini in front of Vuitton luggage, in mansions, etc.), jiggling awkwardly and touching herself prettily while wearing a bloated, vacant smile that reminds me a bit of Patrick Swayze’s smile in Ghost when his spirit left Oda Mae for the last time. Perhaps the smile is just a way of coping with the interminable breeze that seems to follow the poor woman around onscreen (it’s always windy in her videos, which is perplexing considering many of them take place indoors.).  A couple vids from the early years are below, but the new ones, the really gross/awesome ones ("Don't Forget About Us," "We Belong Together," "Say Somethin'," "Touch My Body"), cannot be shown here, sadly. "Embedding disabled by request." (Sigh*).

"Someday": (School):

"Dreamlover" (Countryside): 


The lips parted, peekaboo glances and self love that mark her music video performances could be almost lovable if there were something substantial -- like her shining TALENT, for example -- to anchor it. There's not. The last few albums have been produced within an inch of their digital lives, her vocals seemingly quadruple tracked and Pro-Tooled to bits, only to be ultimately sidelined by Hip Hop glitterati guest appearances. I’m all for double-tracking vocals (Dave Gilmour in Dark Side of the Moon, anyone?) and collaborating with your buddies but at some point it becomes a major bummer. 
The vocal legend’s latest (with its straight-faced title), Memoirs of an Imperfect Angel, provides no reprieve on the bummer front. More breathy vocal business. More songs with barely any sung words. More tiny dresses fit to burst. More indoor breezes. More self-conscious touching of the face and hair. More lazy grins. More killer song titles like “Angels Cry” and “H.A.T.E.U.” (although to be fair, "H.A.T.E.U." is  one of the finest songs on the album). A quick aside: while Memoirs… came close to winning the award for Best Accidentally-Comedic Album Title, the trophy still stays safe in the harbors of Mariah’s 2008 release, E=MC2.
I know the new album has sold a quarter of a million and that my opinion may elicit derision from some, but folks - please be gentle. I am an imperfect angel; Don’t H.A.T.E.ME. Love me, love me…

--Leslie Beattie