Like many big-budget albums of the last years of the 2000s, Mariah Carey's Memoirs of an Imperfect Angel faced shifting release dates, all as the final product was tweaked in light of disappointing reactions to early singles, particularly the Eminem-baiting "Obsessed." Unlike many of those big-budget albums, including several made by Mariah herself, Memoirs isn't the product of a stable of producers and collaborators; it is almost entirely the work of The-Dream and Tricky Stewart, the team best known for writing and producing Rihanna's "Umbrella" and Beyoncé's "Single Ladies", two of this decade's most ubiquitous (and best) singles. Masters of compensation, helping elevate mediocre singers- like The-Dream himself or Rihanna- to something sublime, the two seem like an odd choice to work with Carey; after all, her multi-octave voice doesn't seem suited for sonic under-statements at all. This is somewhat true, as on the album, Carey seems to have thinned her voice to a hush, mumbling here or talk-singing there. Still, it has to be said that the first half of the disc consists of some of Carey's best work this decade.
Beginning with the "ey-ey-ey" laden "Betcha Gon' Know (The Prologue)", where we are welcomed into a day in the life of the singer, Carey plays catty with lines like "Oprah Winfrey whole segment, for real... 60 Minutes, for real." The album then shifts gears into first single "Obsessed". As latter-day Mariah Carey singles go, it is one of her most talked about. Remarkably, it's her highest-charting debut on Billboard charts since 1998, peaking at the #7 spot. However, the single has largely stayed outside of the top 10, causing some insiders to call it a flop. It's her 27th top ten hit (her over-all 40th entry on the chart), a remarkable achievement for any artiste regardless of genre; but as the only artiste alive who has surpassed Elvis Presley for having the most #1 songs of all performing artistes, it's almost as if everything Carey releases is expected by fans and industry alike to top the charts. These are unfair expectations, undoubtedly, but more on the song itself. It's a glossy mid-tempo affair, with the singer cooing confidently, riding the laid-back beat, probably holding back the laughs as she insults again- "All up in the blogs saying we met at the bar, when I don't even know who you are." It's a feistier Carey than we are used to, but what is problematic about the song may be problematic of the singer's entire career this decade- every time she re-emerges on the music scene, she is molded to fit whatever template her hot producers see fit. Whether it's the Neptunes, Jermaine Dupri, or of late Tricky and The-Dream, Mariah is always posited as this sexy thang who unrealistically never seems to age, never seems to evolve, never seems to show any sort of genuine emotion or maturity.
Next up is "H.A.T.E.U", supposedly an acronym for "Having a Typical Emotional Upset". It starts off all fluttery, but about a minute in, a back-beat kicks in, and Carey starts singing "I can't wait to hate you." As the song progresses, more and more unique sound elements are added to the song, and by the time the song ends, it's much more interesting than how it started out, Carey's famous whistle-register and all. Such is the talent of producer C. "Tricky" Stewart. Give him a dull song and he will make it interesting, sonically, at least.
The lyrics of next song "Candy Bling" is why Carey will never be taken seriously in some circles- "anklets, nameplates/that you gave to me/sweet tarts, ring pops, and that candy bling/and you were my world." This is a woman who is 40 years of age. Why is she singing about "tag, chess, spin the bottle" like some love-struck teenage girl? The title alone makes one cringe. The chopped and screwed crunk intro of next track "Ribbon" helps one to forget the awfulness of the track preceding it. It's one of the more inspired moments on the entire disc, but Carey gets right back to the insipidities on next song "Inseperable"- "got photos of us on my refrigerator/videos on my phone, boy I just cant erase them.../the first text I ever got from you still saved in my inbox/and I read it like time after time." Thankfully, "Standing O'" comes right after to wash the bad after-taste away- "I gave you all of me/parts of affection you couldn't see" Carey sings sultrily in what may be the entire album's most honest line.
Carey has always had a way with words; right around the time she dived out of Tommy Mottola's mansion and into the deep end (of the pool) in her music video for "Honey," Mariah's increasingly multisyllabic language started to feel like compensation for her progressively regressive image. She's been know to use words like "reverie" and "rhapsodize" in her songs, and with "It's a Wrap" she adds to that by using "composure", "denominator" and "acquiescent". In fact, the entire lyrics read like something Erykah Badu would have written circa "Tyrone". It's that witty. As soon as she does that, though, she achieves a whole new level of lyrical ridiculousness on "Up Out My Face," involving Lego blocks, the entire Harvard University graduating class of 2010, a nail technician, and an allusion to Humpty Dumpty. "The Repise" that follows next isn't bad, but it's a bit pointless with its marching-band arrangement.
After this point, things get very bad, very fast. Starting with "More Than Just Friends", the succeeding tracks increase in skipability, right down to the loud, over-blown and unbelievably-awful remake of Foreigner's "I Want to Know What Love Is", and four (yes, four!) remixes of "Obsessed". A gospel choir and half-step key change is not how you spell soul, Mariah.
It's evident what the main problem of the album is- Nash and Stewart have settled into their own groove as producers; their unctuous, Caribbean-inflected, R. Kelly-inspired tracks work well song by song, but there becomes a point where a trademark sound starts to be a cage, not a calling card; somthing needed to have come along and shifted the dripping sonics and cooing vocals. Still, the album's breathiness comes across as sexy. Heavy on slow jams, quiet confessions and kiss-offs closer to the work of the rappers she admires than to Carey's soul sisters (Toni Braxton, Mary J. Blige), Memoirs of an Imperfect Angel capitalizes on an underrated aspect of the singer's voice. Even the more aggressive songs here proceed with a laid-back nod instead of a disco spin. Carey compulsively shares details about her runny mascara and her appetite for Duncan Hines yellow cake, but what Nash and Tricky do here is to help Carey realize that her vocal style also communicates a sort of accessibility. Even at its most extravagant, Carey's singing has a warmth, a sensuality and openness to it that sets her apart from peers like Celine Dion and younger pretenders like Leona Lewis. When she tones down her singing, those qualities dominate.
After a while, though, the approach is too much of a mildly interesting thing, and Carey's restraint works against her, ultimately losing the listener's interest.
If E=MC2 was her most commercial album in years, with each song carefully constructed to become a potential radio hit, Memoirs is ostensibly for the longtime fans, her first album in 14 years not to feature any rappers and one that dips into her back catalogue to depths we haven't heard since 2002's Charmbracelet. In fact, Mariah even compared the album to Butterfly on her Twitter account. Having The-Dream and Tricky Stewart on the boards for all 17 tracks makes the album one of her most sonically consistent- but it also makes it one of her most boring. If this is Mariah's attempt at making a soul album, it's shockingly soulless: despite some cool tricks, the production sounds same-y, lacking the fullness of her best work, and is there really any acceptable explanation for drenching her vocals in Auto-Tune? Not to mention, these "memoirs" don't really reveal much about the singer other than that she's capable of harboring a grudge.
She's in fine voice throughout the album, and there are a few inspired moments to be found, which makes it all the more disappointing that the album's final stretch devolves into a mess of old-school Mariah rehashes that should have been left in the past. All Memoirs needed to push it over the edge is a great pair of singles, and their absence hurts the album as there is nothing to interrupt its sleepy mood.
It's interesting to note that the album, upon its release barely sold over 100,000 copies, debuting at #3 on the charts. What is even more remarkable is that she was beat to the #1 spot by Paramore, an up-and-coming band and believe it or not, Barbara Streisand, not with a record of new material, but covers of jazz standards. But if that was shocking enough, Whitney Houston, who released her first album of new material in over 5 years a month before Carey debuted at #1, selling almost three times as much as Carey did. Is it to be believed that music fans are more interested in listening to Barbara Streisand and Whitney Houston? Or did Carey's album leak work against her? Jay-Z's new album leaked, too; it sold almost 500,000 copies in its first week. Whatever the reason or the cause, these facts are very telling of Mariah Carey's position in popular music- we're very much interested in her wedding news, but not so much her music. And if she keeps releasing albums like Memoirs of an Imperfect Angel, it seems it will be like that for a while.
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