November 16th sees the return of Mariah ‘I Don’t Do Stairs’ Carey with her new album ‘Memoirs Of An Imperfect Angel’, straight away my hackles rise because quite frankly that’s the kind of title that could only have been summoned by a silly sod with a rampant ego and a long term distancing from reality. Then of course there is the dubious packshots on the sleeve which show a Mariah that has either turned back time or got intimate with a suite of Photoshop tools. She no longer seems to possess those arms that came straight from the meat packing district or were alternatively used to shovel buns like a fucking elephant (allegedly).
On to the album itself, as you might expect regardless what you think of the bun shoveller. She does have some clout and in this instance that means she has roped in good production values for the latest outing. The executive producer is none other than Antonio “LA” Reid (ex of LA and Babyface, remember them?) while elsewhere knob twiddling duties have been handed over to Tricky Stewart and Terius Nash, so in fairness if you’re into your RnB then the back line side of things is relatively solid.
Of course having good production values is one thing but if the material has all the inspirational qualities of typhoid then it all comes to nothing and that is honestly the case here. The beats and synths are as slick as you might expect and reflect the high quality production values but in this instance the absence of variety in the songs is something that you can’t forgive. The fact that bun head feels the need to slap an ungainly four mixes of one song on the album gives you an idea that she is hyping the lead single for all its worth. Yet what else do you get for your money, well frankly fuck all. Its all about Mariah trying to sound as street as possible which frankly sounds shit when you’re pushing forty and you’re previous incarnation was one of doing wibbly wobbly vocal gymnastics and dicey team ups with shit boy bands.
Crap.
