A Music Review: Mariah Carey’s Memoirs of an Imperfect Angel

Because I have always been a loyal Mariah Carey fan, I knew I had to get her Memoirs of an Imperfect Angel the minute it hit the stores. I’ve been in love with Mariah Carey since I was 11 years old when she put out her self-titled debut. I was telling the kid that when my sister and I bought that … tape… yes, tape, with our pitiful allowance, we used to hold “concerts” in the upstairs hallway with the vacuum cleaner as a microphone.

Back in the day when such hits as “I Don’t Want to Cry” and “Vanishing” used to make you sit there and be like, “Damn…” even if you are only 11. You may not know exactly what she’s talking about because you haven’t experienced it yet, but you know that it’s something emotional, something powerful to make a person sing with such depth.

Memoirs of an Imperfect Angel evokes no such reaction from me. In fact, this entire album is garbage. Mariah, what have you done to yourself? I played your first album so much the tape popped. When you released Emotions, nobody couldn’t tell me I wasn’t going to be the next Mariah Carey. I would be in the bathroom singing my life away, pretending I could hit all those high notes but really I was just screeching, especially the notes at the end of “Can’t Let Go.” My mother threatened to whoop me if I didn’t be quiet. Music Box was another great album with all those wonderful ballads. You made me want to be a singer.

In 1995, I was a sophomore when Daydream came out. It wasn’t as good as your first three albums, but still I could not complain. I was in my early goth phase when you released Butterfly in 1997. Rainbow kind of disappointed me and you ruined my life with Glitter. I was prepared to abandon you forever after Charmbracelet because I couldn’t find a single track to pretend to. Somebody gave me an iPod and I made a Mariah Carey playlist with all my favourite sing-a-long songs, the songs that had me pretending that I had a voice as good as yours. Sorry to say that none of your songs from Charmbracelet made it into the list. When I heard you were going to release Emancipation of Mimi, I almost didn’t bother.

But you came back and I was so proud of you. E=MC2 was pretty good too, but I figured you were back from whatever crazy house you were living in after you made Glitter. After Emancipation, I felt like you could do no wrong: until this disaster.

Memoirs of an Imperfect Angel is Glitter’s follow-up album, instead of a reprisal of your “comeback” Emancipation. Glitter was an abomination. Memoirs is a crime against humanity. Mariah, you know I don’t like the hip hop, and even if I did, why did you feel like you have to go this route? You are one of the greatest female artists of all times. You are the number one selling female artist. You actually have real talent. You are not Britney Spears or Beyonce. You do not have to be contrived in order to sell albums. So I ask again, wwhat have you done to yourself? What is this? Do you really expect me, a loyal fan, to listen to this trite garbage and enjoy it? No, I don’t think so, Mariah. You should be ashamed of yourself that you allowed this atrocity to even come out the studio.

First of all, you are 39 years old. Why are you on the cover of your album, airbrushed to death, in a stretched out wife beater? But that doesn’t even have anything to do with the actual content of this mess. Let’s break it down.

Betcha Gon Know– That’s not even proper English. You are not ghetto, Mariah. I think I could live with the hip hop beat if you actually sang this song instead of trying to rap it. Trash.

Obsessed– I think this is the song that’s on the radio, but since I don’t listen to the radio I don’t know. Why is your voice AUTO-TUNED!!!! Has your voice degraded that much that you have to resort to Britney Spears tactics?

HATEU– I kind of like this song… kind of, but you aren’t really singing but wispy breathing into a microphone like you’ve just run a mile and you’re out of breath. I would probably listen to this while committing suicide.

Candy Bling– First of all, the title… Candy Bling. CANDY BLING. Another song where you don’t really sing. A disappointment.

Ribbon– The main reason this song is annoying is because of that weird voice in the background. It sounds like Mike Jones on crack. Once again, Mariah, why is your voice autotuned?

Inseperable– This song wasn’t horrible, but you could’ve put more effort into it. You have–had–such a strong voice, and you really could have sung this song but you didn’t. Why?

Standing O– This song is just entirely too hip-hoppy for me. I didn’t enjoy it at all. I can’t even stand to listen to it.

It’s a Wrap– What’s with the weird screeching in the background?

Up Out My Face– I couldn’t even bring myself to listen to a song called Up Out My Face. Seriously, Up Out My Face? Up Out My Face, Mariah. Just listen to that, say it slowly: Up. Out. My. Face.

Up Out My Face– And then you had the nerve to reprise it.

More Than Just Friends– Another Carey Rap = CRAP.

The Impossible– Breathy, wispy, no real singing.

Angels Cry– Other reviewers said this was the one song that was decent, but I felt like she didn’t sing this song like she’s sung other songs. Mariah, I don’t like what you’ve become. This could have been great.

Languishing– Why didn’t you make a full length of this? This had potential.

I Want to Know What Love Is– I used to consider any song you remade to be better than the original because your voice was the truth, but sadly, Foreigner blows you away on this. You ruined a classic. I never thought I’d say that about you, Mariah.

And then you had the nerve to do include like four different remixes of that abomination Obsessed.

I give this album a D-. You’re lucky I didn’t give you an F, but you’re Mariah Carey and that’s why you lucked out. I would not recommend it to my worst enemy. I would probably use this a a torture tactic at Gitmo, force the detainees to listen to your breathy gasping for hours on end until they told me their deepest darkest secrets.

I told you not to play with me, Mariah. Gone are the days when I used to accept anything you gave me. You now how to prove yourself to me. I don’t know if it’s because you’re messing with that infant Nick Cannon or because you really have lost your mind, but you need to call Walter Afanaseiff up and beg his forgiveness. Whoever writes your songs needs to be dragged out behind a shed and shot. These trite, insignificant lyrics are beneath you. If your voice has degraded then you should capitalise on the fact that you still have talent and you can still sing better than Beyonce, Rihanna and all these other hoes. You also need to realise that you are not them and they are not your competition. These children were in braces and knee socks when you cut your first number one.

Oh, Mariah, what the hell am I going to do with you? You’ve failed me.


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