Well, what can I say. Here I am, a 26-year old man that loves cars
and still, after all these years, loves this damn Mariah Carey.
When you appreciate and love a particular person or thing to such an
extent, and place them upon the highest mountains (pedestals just won’t do in
this case), there is always the possibility that if they do disappoint you,
the distress will be far greater.
And there are some realities every lamb just has to face, myself
included: Mariah is well into her 40s, has not had a Billboard chart-topper
since 2008, thrives on a genre of music that no longer thrives on radio, has
not released a non-holiday studio album since 2009 and admittedly, she needs a
fair amount of vocal rest and the tiniest of prayers to produce a solid,
powerful live performance – just as well, then, that she is tight with Jesus.
Throw in Mariah’s newfound hobby of pushing back album releases and releasing a billion teasers of this song and that video, and it’s no wonder that the lambs
are constantly running around in a panic-stricken state, not knowing what the
hell is going to happen next.
And then… she releases The Art
of Letting Go and the panic subsides. We find a song that intrigues from
the first few bars with some old-school, LP-esque crackling, calming strings
and a simple piano accompaniment. We find Mariah in full voice from the start,
with less whispering than we’ve become accustomed to in recent years.
But we also find her specialty, which is writing the heck out of a
song when she is forced to fill those extra two minutes that would usually be
taken up by a T-Pain or Rick Ross. This woman is a phenomenal songwriter, not
needing to rely on awkward metaphors (ie. Wrecking Ball), profanities (Work
Bitch, Rihanna pouring Lord-knows-what up goodness-knows-where) or questionable
concepts (Blurred Lines).
She’s really, actually, just writing down what could be a series of
heartfelt diary entries and ingeniously squeezing them into something just
under four minutes.
I just want to blab on about this song writing thing for a little
bit longer, because it’s truly why I believe she has her loyal fans, so take
your imaginary diary and imaginary pen out and bear with me.
It’s in our diaries (and if you don't own one, you’ve got your
subconscious) where we write down or harbour our unsolicited, untarnished,
unrestrained thoughts and feelings about people and about the world. Yes, we’re
using a few big words here and there, but mostly it’s a constant, busy stream
of emotions – the words and phrases sound cheesy sometimes, but that’s love: is
there a slick, smart-ass way in which you can tell someone you love them? Or
more than that, are you trying to be clever when you’re talking about something
you so desperately need to let go of? Nope.
I can assure you that “I came
in like a wrecking balllll…” won’t make it onto the pages of your diary,
because it’s clouding what is actually a very powerful message with something
‘catchy’ that the masses can latch onto and brandish as ground-breaking. I
could even say something similar about Adele’s “I set fire, to the raaain…” (again, a powerful message clouded by
phrases you’d never ordinarily think up or write down as a means of expression).
Mariah removes that cloudiness, and what she ends up with are lyrics
that are often labelled ‘cheesy’ or ‘silly’, but which are far more reflective
of the inner workings of the average human psyche:
“Letting go ain’t easy,
it’s just exceedingly hurtful… there’s a deep deep loss of hope, and the anger
burns within me. I hope you don’t go get no ideas about reuniting baby, cos
that’s the last thing I truly need.”
On the other end of the scale, hold onto that imaginary pen, look
into my imaginary eyes and tell me, with a straight face, that you’ve never
wanted to write down or tell someone to ‘touch your body’. From the depths of
despair to the heights of euphoria, our emotions have no concern for order or
logic or fanciful figures of speech. We just want to tell someone, sometimes,
that ‘you’re beautiful, good lord, you’re F*cking beautiful’ (yes, I know that
flies in the face of my earlier comment about Mariah not needing to resort to
cursing).
In summary, she just says it. I
won’t go so far as to say Mariah is alone in this regard, because Alicia Keys
stands out as another that couldn’t be bothered with anything more than saying
what’s on her mind. Most artists, at various points in their album releases,
delve into this ‘writing from my diary’ space, but I find that Mariah is ALWAYS
in it.
I realise I have gone off-track here, so back to The Art of Letting
Go. Structurally the song is a bit of a maze, without a decisive
this-is-the-chorus and here-is-the-pretty-bridge feel to it, which to me only
adds to its depth.
I imagine the song will be a great ‘grower’, once one has taken in the full extent of the lyrical content. I forgot to mention that what isn’t missing is Mariah letting rip
towards the end in a fitting climax, and it’s also a joy to hear a new Mariah
song that doesn’t taper into silence suddenly just after the 3’00” mark. The
background, airy vocals from Mariah herself remind very much of the
Daydream-era, and the restrained choir bring some church-vibes into the mix,
which many lambs do enjoy.
Here is an artist that can remove almost all traces of reality from
her album covers, without doing anything of the sort when it comes to her
music.
Letting Go feels instantly old-school, but with a fresh twist, and
is a solid and emotive statement from my favourite singer (and if you have
lasted this far into my extended waffle, probably yours too…).
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