Sunday, October 18, 2020

Review: The Rarities • Mariah Carey



In 2018, two Mariah Carey albums entered cultural conversation: One was the brand new Caution, arguably her leanest, most effective release this side of Y2K. The other was Glitter, a record synonymous with turmoil in Carey’s lore. Released on Sept. 11, 2001, soon after Carey was hospitalized for an untreated bipolar episode and suicide attempt during its lead-up promotion, the record and its associated film were deemed Carey’s first true failures as an entertainer and were retroactively scrubbed from her digital footprint. But by the release of Caution, fans – Carey calls them her lambs, collectively the lambily – had reconsidered Glitter and its media framing: The only option was to demand reparations for the record that had been dwarfed by the criticism against it.

The resulting hashtag movement, #JusticeForGlitter, gained traction on Twitter and shot the record to the top of the iTunes best-selling albums chart. While the market share of iTunes downloads had already eroded by then, it was enough to catch attention from legacy media and Carey herself. To thank her lambs, she incorporated a Glitter medley into her live shows and posted the record in all its post-disco glory to streaming platforms – with simply “MARIAH” listed in its label attribution, hinting that she may have bought the rights to the record from her former label. Despite popular perception to the contrary, Mariah Carey is much more self-aware than she is portrayed. And from time to time, when she isn’t releasing something like Merry Christmas II You or #1s to Infinity, she knows exactly what diehard fans want from their favorite artists – something like The Rarities.

Not unlike a digital bootleg parceled together with illegal downloads and leaked material, The Rarities parcels lost songs from across her career into a most-wanted mixtape. Largely containing downtempo cuts from early to mid-1990s record sessions, the collection of session scraps is sturdy enough to legitimize Mariah Carey as a solid songwriter even outside of the hits. It becomes a new milestone in the retroactive redemption already in motion to reiterate that she crafted her own music during her blockbuster run in the '90s, a fact that many listeners ignored at the time. And while nothing on The Rarities feels essential to her career – sensual rhythm and blues number "Do You Think Of Me" is the only track to feel like a foolish omission from its parent album – not a single moment is unenjoyable, even if many are simply unremarkable.

The disc of outtakes is an invaluable gift for Carey’s fans, but the second disc may be better suited for the casual listener: A crystal-clear recording of a 1996 Tokyo concert, the first international tour stop in her career. It is particularly important given that she largely neglected to tour until that point in favor of rapid-fire album releases under her then-husband's control. The concert recording here is a stellar showing at the height of her career's first act: Carey reveals alternate melodies and delivers some of her smoothest vocals to be captured in a live setting. With its crowd-pleaser setlist and impressive vocal performances, the concert attempts – and succeeds, at least more often than the first side of this record – to accomplish the same mission statement as her accompanying memoir: The vindication of Mariah Carey as a songwriter, a vocalist, and a world-class entertainer.

The Rarities is available now under Columbia Records.

Saturday, October 3, 2020

Retrospective: In The Zone • Britney Spears

 

After the recent break in the mirage that is Britney Spears’ lucrative career, the #FreeBritney movement has infiltrated most social media platforms. Twitter accounts, viral Tik Toks, podcasts, and YouTube gossip channels have all covered – with varying level of dramatics – the pop star’s struggle to regain control over her own finances. Though some theorists are too far disconnected from reality, dissecting her Instagram posts for alleged secret signs that she needs rescued, it’s hard not to believe there’s some truth behind the idea that Spears wants to end a years-long conservatorship over her empire. And it’s incredible how united people stand for Britney Spears’ well-being: Many kids who share short clips of the pop music titan have been alive only long enough to remember Britney Spears after her independence was ripped away.

During her first decade as a headlining pop star, Britney Spears was the poster child of autonomy. Though her first two records appealed to listeners her age, Spears made cultural tidal waves to promote her music: The moment she tied some Kmart blouses into crop-tops when dressing for her first music video, she began a career that continually pushed boundaries in ways that made the average housewife squirm in outrage – or envy. She may have gone too far – like when she appeared on the front of Rolling Stone at 17 in a bra and boy shorts under the headline “Inside the Heart, Mind & Bedroom of a Teen Dream” – but the narrative from Spears’ camp, both at the time and in hindsight, has maintained that she controlled her own empire, allegedly making decisions to spite her management’s more modest image requests.

As Spears aged, she aligned her music with her image: A consenting adult in 1999, she began to produce more overtly sexual music by 2001 when she released the self-titled Britney. Coverage of that record (and the ones that followed it, for that matter, but we’ll get there) was gross – a memorialization of how strongly toxic tabloid culture had been intertwined into legacy media coverage. “It seems the super-starlet can’t decide whether she’s a stripper or a prostitute” was the lead on Slant magazine's Britney review. Other publications, like The New York Times, were quick to pull her virginity into a conversation supposedly about her music. Beyond their inappropriate slights, critics came to a clear consensus on the record: Britney vacationed outside of her comfort zone but did not vacate the premises entirely.

• • •

Her fourth record, In the Zone, was a milestone in its own right: It represented an adult Britney without exceptions or complications. Before it, she primed audiences for its existence, and on its heels, she expedited a public self-destruction that was somewhat foreshadowed by “Outrageous,” an R. Kelly-penned embrace of extreme media perception, and “Everytime,” accompanied by a suicidal music video plot. The media scrutinized as she married a man who they claimed “gave Britney license to fully embrace her white-trash side,” birthed two sons, and began to crumble under their intrusive watch: She began to party hard and act out, assaulting paparazzi and lashing out in public. Everything she did off the stage overshadowed her career, including the release of Blackout, a now-revered record that embraced – and likely wouldn’t have happened without – messy media fallout. Though Blackout piloted Spears into her most blatantly experimental and self-parodying musical mindset, In The Zone captures a brief, predominantly carefree side in her life in an incredibly alluring way.

With In the Zone, Spears does not compromise what she wants to become with what she was. The record is forward-facing and scaled back when compared to the full-bodied instrumental blueprint and massive harmonies that Max Martin laid out for her first three records. In fact, Martin was swapped out altogether for a menagerie of producers that somehow worked in tandem to build the record’s faux-futuristic sheathing. Far from maximalist but rooted in dance, In the Zone provided imperfect, moody nuance to Spears’ music. While dance floor ode “Me Against the Music” – featuring Madonna and a fantastic tongue-twister pre-chorus – was billed as its lead single at Spears' request, the bigger hit “Toxic” bears the closest resemblance to the bonafide pop artist that Britney Spears was previously perceived to be. But even it was a risk: Its shrill string spasms crash into a whiplash beat, culminating a bastardized fusion of Bollywood and western cinema score. 

“Overall, I think that music is emotion at the end of the day, and I think this album isn’t necessarily saying anything. I think the music is just a feeling,” she told the press during an album launch event in 2003. The mood, she told MTV, is “just a little freaky.” When she isn’t escaping in the club, like on thumping deep South club tracks “(I Got That) Boom Boom” and “The Hook Up,” she scales back to slinky beats and breathier, less pinched vocals: Considering she still slotted them between radio hits in a 2016 primetime award show medley, “Breathe on Me” and “Touch of My Hand” are clear favorites for Spears and fans alike. But there’s also something to be said about the strange dynamics of something like “Showdown,” which flaunts a fantastic dance beat, a rougher guitar riff, and hushed flirts in its verses: It’s a perfect representation of the genre-mashing and mood-shifting on a record that is a tour de force in redefining an artist without a margin of error.

• • •

Just before In The Zone was released, conversation over Spears’ split from Justin Timberlake and her coming to age seemed to take precedent over the music: Diane Sawyer pummeled her during a Primetime interview that aired just before the record dropped, often prefacing questions with warnings that they would sting. While Timberlake was the centerfold of the interview and questions on recent public turbulence drove Spears to tears, it was the accusatory tone over provocative performances that was much more irksome. After sharing with Spears that the first lady of Maryland had declared she would “shoot Britney Spears” if given the opportunity, Sawyer blames Spears for the threat because she defaulted on her alleged responsibility to remain a children’s entertainer forever. Spears was just in her response: “It’s not my job to babysit her kids.” 

While it triggered unfair growing pains for her career, a record like In The Zone was absolutely necessary for Britney Spears to mature as a young musician beyond a stock-build pop staple. Not stocked with typical album fluff or odd retrofitted covers, it is undoubtedly Spears first sturdy, dynamic artistic statement that matches a busy night at the club and an even busier night after reeling a boy back home. Making bold introductions of electronic, funk, and rhythm and blues into her repertoire, it’s an incredibly ambitious record that primed audiences for what was to come – a career that would very soon thrive on synth-heavy, mega-beat, over-processed cuts like "Gimme More" and "Womanizer."

The knowledge we have now about Spears’ situation may cast a shadow over even her early years in show business. Were odious power dynamics at play in Britney Spears’ career from the beginning to persuade her into uncomfortable positions, or did the trouble begin soon after In The Zone when she crumbled under pressure and her father was subsequently handed her assets? We may never know the answer – but given the longevity of In The Zone tracks in Spears’ live shows, it seems to be a body of work she is still willing to stand behind, regardless of what happened beyond the music. After all, it is the perfect escape from the paparazzi, firearm-wielding first ladies, and harsh speculation – into the zone, wherever that oasis may be.

In the Zone was released on Nov. 18, 2003, under Jive Records.

Sunday, September 20, 2020

Review: Heaven & Hell • Ava Max

Despite this year’s hardships, the gears of the commercial pop music industry may have moved more efficiently than they did under ordinary circumstances. Bunkered down while concert venues are still high risk businesses for COVID transmission, artists have been producing more music and releasing it from the comfort of their home studios. Established industry headliners have managed to capture attention without their typical flair: Lady Gaga charged forward with a warehouse rave record for an era without a dance night to attend. Taylor Swift topped the Billboard 200 for six consecutive weeks with an intimate foray into acoustic pop. Katy Perry released, well, a Katy Perry record. All things considered, it’s been a good year to be a music fan who wanted nothing more than new records from their favorite artists.

Finding a new favorite artist, however, hasn’t been so easy. The pandemic has crushed most platforms afforded to new artists for publicity and opportunities to share music between friends. In fact, it seems the most prominent force in music publicity at the moment is Tik Tok, which has a knack for embedding a 30-second snippet of a song into the brain via looped video but fails to blast its meme soundtracks into superstardom. In that way, American pop singer Ava Max is lucky: She not only cut through legacy platforms just before the pandemic began – sleeper hit “Sweet But Psycho” reached the top 10 in America in the middle of last year – but also saw two songs be turned into notable Tik Tok trends in the past year.

With her hair comically chopped at the shoulder on one side and a small group of fans to record every detail of said hair style’s authenticity on her Wikipedia page, Ava Max can feel like a gaudy pop star genuine to a decade ago – just after tabloid culture was succeeded by internet stan culture, and before political correctness subdued the act of stanning to spamming K-pop fan cams under unrelated Twitter threads. Rather, she’s the distillation of the industry veterans who loved through that time in entertainment: She guns for theatrics and stadium-sized hooks that make large (and frankly, extremely alluring) booms to distract from the reliance on songwriting tropes on her debut record, Heaven & Hell.

Max writes music like her heroes did ten years ago: That translates to lyrics that often lack grit – She spends much of her time reiterating that she is a quirky, misunderstood outcast, a tired character in entertainment filled by a rotating door of artists – but it also means that she can produce bangers. Very infrequently does pop music of today produce sturdy three-minute stompers like the four-on-the-floor revival of early Lady Gaga and Britney Spears' second wave, but Max accomplishes it very solidly a few times – like on "Torn," the record's crowning jewel that owes its success in part to that synth sample from ABBA's "Gimme! Gimme! Gimme! (A Man After Midnight)," and "Belladonna," with its digital synths and vocal line that push and pull like a crankshaft. And she comes admirably close at other moments – the musicality behind "Tattoo" compensates for its criminal metaphor, and “Kings and Queens” is a fine stab at a triumphant battle cry.

Without a careful listen, there is nothing particularly wrong with Heaven & Hell. “Sweet but Psycho” alone proves that it’s easy to be swept into the record; Max’s melodies often latch to memory quickly, and her intense production value is just as recently nostalgic as it is universally attractive to the casual listener. It’s upon further analysis that the argument for Heaven & Hell begins to falter a bit – her lyricisms are chintzy at best, and between thoughts, she tends to interrupt momentum with a new underwhelming riff or two off the millennial whoop. On “Who’s Laughing Now,” for example, what should be a maniacal laugh turns into an oddly sugary post-chorus, while "Take You To Hell" suffers from a similar conflict in moods. Even still, the record rarely reflects its titular polarity: For better or for worse, it provides a consistent level of service to reflect the Ava Max lifestyle of exile and excess.

Heaven & Hell is available now under Atlantic Records.

© Aural Fixation
Maira Gall