Butterfly allows Mariah Carey to spread her wings on a more credible R&B playground.
It's easy to be jealous of Mariah Carey.
The world's reigning pop diva stares out from the cover of her latest album,
Butterfly, with a sultry look that says "Don't hate me because I'm
beautiful." And with the long, flowing tresses Carey displays, she could do
Kelly Brock's Pantene gig in a pinch. But the 27-year old chanteuse hardly
needs the extra cash. As the best-selling female artist of the '90s, Mariah is
doing just fine without Madison Avenue, thank you — and therein lies the
rub.
For the better part of a decade, critics and music industry rivals have
sniped at Carey's success, deriding her music as simply the latest
incarnation of dime store pop dressed up in the Chanel gown that is her
velvety singing voice.
The secretive Carey has played it close to the vest, rarely acknowledging
her detractors and responding only by spinning out hit after chart-topping
hit — complete with often vapid lyrics and overwrought vocal
performances showcasing her multi-octave voice. On her latest effort,
Carey shows both more and less restraint than on previous outings, making
Butterfly her most complete, and undoubtedly, finest album.
On Butterfly, Carey reigns in her characteristic vocal excess and shows
off the subtleties of the music with careful moderation — punctuated by her
signature climbs up the musical scale. It's a good thing too, because the
smoky tracks that dominate this album are best suited to soulful growls and
the provocative harmonizing found on songs like "The Roof," a mid-tempo
ballad about making love on a city rooftop.
This staunch R&B groove, with its sensuous melody and steroid-injected
snare beats, gives evidence of the growing hip-hop influence that crept into
Carey's last album and permeates this one. But hip-hop tinged songs like
"Fantasy" from 1995's Daydream still conveyed the innocuous image (until
Method Man devilishly ripped up the club version) that Carey cultivated
early in her career. "The Roof" speaks to an older and more adventurous
woman breaking the shackles of her youth.
("I started feeling liberated. /And I surrendered as you took me in your
arms/... So I threw caution to the wind/ and started listening to my longing
heart. /And then you softly pressed your lips to mine /And feelings surfaced
I'd suppressed for such a long time /And I was lifted")
The scuffling you hear is players all across the country scrambling to put
this seductive joint on their slow jam mix tapes. Granted, Mariah's not
going to rival Sylvia Plath or even Liz Phair with lyrics like these, but
Butterfly displays an edgier, more restless Carey. Clearly, Carey is feeling
the lyrical as well as musical influence of Sean "Puffy" Combs, who
produced Butterfly's first single "Honey."
In fact, Butterfly features the presence of so many New York hip-hop
talents I was ready to hear Carey reminisce about wearing Dolce &
Gabanna while sipping Cristal in the back of a stretch limo filled to the brim
with Calicos. But she saved that for the liner notes. (I guess I'll have to wait
until Lil' Kim drops her second album to get my cheap fix of NY player
fronts.)
But it's personal growth, not just an association with Bad Boy Records that
drives Butterfly's harder edge. Since Daydream sold seven million copies,
Carey has separated from her husband and initial benefactor Tommy
Mottola (president of Sony Records, which released this album). That
breakup has caused Butterfly to be seen as Mariah's declaration that she
is now her own woman.
Butterfly's lyrics and musical exploration do combine to give this album a
sense of discovery. In a break from tradition, the newly amorous Mariah
sings about making love so frequently and unabashedly that you'd think she
just learned it was fun.
Carey admits she is revealing more of herself with this album, and on
Butterfly's phattest groove, "Breakdown," she delivers a musical lament
easily heard as describing her breakup with Mottola: "You called me
yesterday/ to basically say that you care for me/ but that you're just not in
love/ Immediately, I pretended to be feeling similarly/ — and led you to
believe I was O.K. to just walk away/ from the one thing that's unyielding
and sacred to me."
Carey denies that these lyrics are personal — and considering Sony
Music's struggles she may be right — Mottola certainly seems to need
Carey's star power more than she needs him. But what is infinitely more
remarkable than the song's lyrical content is the way Carey's wistful
chirping delicately mimics the rapid fire delivery of Bone
Thugs-N-Harmony, the Cleveland rappers who provide seamless
accompaniment over a stripped-bare beat that quite literally breaks it
down.
Carey's willingness to experiment with a bolder brand of R&B music is a
welcome development much in evidence on tracks like "Honey," the heavy
rotation dance track which uses one of hip-hop's most tried and true
samples (remember Puffy's at work here), and a gorgeous cover of
Prince's "The Beautiful Ones," which should make even his purple highness
turn green with envy.
Sure, Butterfly has its shortcomings — not least of which are mediocre
lyrical quality and an over-reliance on recycled beats — but those flaws
are endemic to much of today's R&B music. Mariah is still a work in
progress, yet Butterfly represents the beginning of her metamorphosis into
a more mature singer — something that is both beautiful and breathtaking
to hear.
by Troy Flint, student.com
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