How I learned to stop worrying and just love Mariah Carey
“Glitter” was supposed to make Mariah Carey a movie star. Instead, it almost ruined her career.
And I paid to see it in a movie theater.
The 2001 film about an aspiring singer was terrible, to be sure. Carey’s acting was wooden. Her chemistry with Max Beesley was nonexistent. The entire film felt like it was scripted, directed and edited by a 9-year-old girl.
But Carey was my girl. I also bought — and largely memorized — the soundtrack, a silky and sweet ode to the ’80s that isn’t nearly as bad as you were made to believe. Try not to tear up, or at least sigh heavily, during “Reflections” or “Never Too Far.”
That was the moment, I think, when Carey, who plays the Toyota Center Friday night with Lionel Richie, earned a permanent place in my musical heart. She was ridiculed. She was shamed. She was the butt of jokes — though she did herself no favors with bizarre antics, most notably showing up at the MTV studios in 2001 with an ice cream cart for an awkward striptease in front of Carson Daly during a live broadcast of “Total Request Live.”
It didn’t matter. I loved, and in many ways still love, Carey for exactly who she is: a ridiculously over-the-top, self-absorbed superstar diva with an unparalleled run of modern pop classics who you should never fully count out.
I remember the first time I heard “Vision of Love,” her 1990 debut single, on the radio. I was in the bathroom getting ready for school. The morning show DJ challenged callers to guess the singer, which was ridiculous since no one had heard her before that moment. I was instantly hooked.
It wasn’t just the power in Carey’s voice. It was the sweeping, gospel-infused arrangement that gave way to the first few words — “Treated me kind …” The cooing backup singers. The lyrics about struggle and success and perseverance. The whistle note that became her signature. And that chill-inducing, not-of-this-Earth finale where she stretches the word “all” into an Olympic gold-medal vocal routine.
It was easy to love Carey for several years. Everyone did. Her earthy looks and wide-eyed emotion spoke to young listeners. Her penchant for big-note ballads, which recalled Whitney Houston and Barbra Streisand, captured older folks.
She was, for a while, the perfect pop star.
Carey transitioned with the 1997 “Butterfly” album, skillfully incorporating hip-hop into her sound. Tracks like “Honey” and “The Roof” and “Breakdown” and “Baby Doll?” Perfection. That album still finds time in my earphones today. It set her up as the pop diva of that time.
After “Glitter” bombed and a few more stumbles, including 2002’s sleepy “Charmbracelet” album,” Carey returned to peak diva with 2005’s “The Emancipation of Mimi.” As a fan — or a lamb, as she calls her fans — it was hugely satisfying to see her rise from the ashes and reclaim her pop throne. The album felt urgent and inspired. It was Mimi 2.0. The entire world was singing “We Belong Together.”
She’s since been wildly inconsistent. She was a revelation as a caring teacher in the critically favored film “Precious.” But Carey hasn’t released an album since 2014’s “Me. I Am Mariah … The Elusive Chanteuse” — which was really good, by the way. Her last single of note was 2013’s “#Beautiful” with Miguel. And her last top 10 pop hit was 2009’s Eminem diss “Obsessed.”
Some fans might move on. But, to paraphrase Mimi, even though I try, I can’t let go. She’ll always be my baby. I still believe.
And in some ways, she’s as rewarding as ever. But in wholly different ways.
I loved her through countless live performance fiascoes that regularly show up on my Facebook feed, from TV Christmas specials to bumpy Vegas shows to New Year’s Eve 2016, when she flitted around the stage like some sort of drag-queen zombie.
I loved her as a judge on “American Idol,” where she argued with Nicki Minaj about everything, from hats to No.1 hits to “Mean Girls.”
I’m obsessed with her appearances on the Home Shopping Network, where she commands the frightened hosts like lowly assistants and uses the word “moment” roughly 367 times. Seriously, look them up on YouTube. Thank me later in person.
I regularly use Carey’s “I don’t know her” GIF in exchanges with friends, which originated when she was asked about Jennifer Lopez. In a word, iconic.
I still own a bottle of the “melodic beverage” she hawked a few years ago. I once traveled to Dallas with a friend to see her in concert. Her 1994 Christmas album is, inarguably, a classic.
Carey’s early life is getting the drama series treatment on Starz. And if her story so far is any indication, there are still a few chapters left to be written. Whatever they are, I’ll still be there watching and listening.