Milestones: The Emancipation of Mimi by Mariah Carey

With The Emancipation of Mimi, Mariah Carey staged an exultant comeback after being counted out, capturing the spirit of mid-2000s R&B and revitalizing her as one of the best to do it.

Courtesy of The Island Def Jam Music Group.

In 2004, the influential American producer L.A. Reid left Arista and thus Sony—where he had landed in 2001 following the purchase of LaFace Records, the label he co-founded with Babyface—to become the head of Island Def Jam, to which Mariah Carey was signed. He would serve as the executive producer of the singer’s next album. Mariah hands over the reins to someone with real experience (she herself had served as executive producer of Charmbracelet) so that she can focus on what she does best: writing and singing. The year 2004 is devoted to preparing the album: both the label and the star want to take their time in devising a solid comeback plan.

Her big return is meticulously orchestrated with an entirely new team of producers: Pharrell Williams of the Neptunes, famous for his metallic grooves and percussive rhythms; Kanye West, a young recruit of JAY-Z’s Roc-A-Fella label, then known for his soul samples (his very first single, “Through the Wire,” from The College Dropout, 2004, sampled Chaka Khan’s voice sped up, and he also produced the old-school odyssey “You Don’t Know My Name” for Alicia Keys on her second album, The Diary of Alicia Keys, 2003); and pianist-composer Big Jim Wright, a former collaborator of Jimmy Jam and Terry Lewis, who joins the roster for the most soulful and spiritual tracks as well as the ballads (he would be Mariah’s “gospel ear” on future albums, as well as the musical director of many of her tours until he died in 2018 at the age of 52).

L.A. Reid is delighted with the lineup but wants more unforgettable songs like “Always Be My Baby” (Daydream, 1995). With that in mind, he invites the young singer to work again with Jermaine Dupri and his associate Bryan-Michael Cox. Mariah travels to JD’s hometown of Atlanta. Together, they write and produce “It’s Like That” and “Get Your Number”—upcoming funky, modern singles designed for the dance floor. The album seems finished; the record company celebrates the end of the recording cycle. But L.A. Reid still feels something is missing: “This album isn’t finished, it still needs a hit [...] You have to go back to see Jermaine Dupri.” In November 2004, the singer once again flew to Atlanta, where they wrote “Shake It Off” and the indispensable “We Belong Together.”

They spend an entire night in the studio, staying highly focused despite the glasses of Pinot Grigio. Mariah refuses to spend the night in Atlanta; her jet to New York is waiting. She gently puts pressure on them: out of that tension comes the entire composition of “We Belong Together.” A few days later, while she is relentlessly recording harmonies for the song—her favorite activity—L.A. Reid and all the senior executives walk by the studio. Mariah allows them to enter, even though she usually records alone with her sound engineer. Seizing the moment to impress them, she belts out the climax with as much passion as possible. This is the take they decide to keep.

The Emancipation of Mimi is chosen as the album title. No longer Mariah, but Mimi—her frequently used nickname—a play on words that conveys the star’s liberation, referencing Prince’s Emancipation (1996), which celebrated his departure from Warner Bros. Records, and Puccini’s heroine Mimì in La Bohème (1896). Deliberately camp, the title reveals the approach adopted: after the tearful “Through the Rain,” the record company decides to inject humor and self-mockery, as it had at the beginning of the Rainbow era with “Heartbreaker.”

In January 2005, the first single, “It’s Like That,” was released. Produced with a minimalist style and a powerful bass line, punctuated by Jermaine Dupri’s and Fatman Scoop’s interjections, it’s tailor-made for the dance floor. Mariah sings about partying (“I came to have a party”), letting go of negativity, and living life apologizing to no one (“I’m leavin’ it all behind/No tears, no time to cry/Just making the most of life”), over a nod to Run-DMC’s “It’s Like That” (Run-D.M.C., 1983). The beat’s aggressiveness makes it a party track, showcasing a playful star who has finally embraced her inner diva and heralding an upbeat, celebratory album thanks to its lightheartedness and humor: “It’s a special occasion/Mimi’s emancipation/A cause for celebration.”

In the video directed by Brett Ratner, Mariah enters a mansion filled with masked men, presiding as mistress of ceremonies at the center of everyone’s attention. On the screens, an older man in a three-piece suit watches her dance: this is her future husband, played by Eric Roberts, who observes her from an upper gallery as she falls under the spell of a mysterious masked young man (actor Wentworth Miller, star of the series Prison Break). “To be continued.” With this first single, Mariah climbs back up the Billboard Hot 100—which she thought she might never scale again—and reaches sixteenth place. Everything points to the successive single’s impending triumph.

Spending a few days in Paris in March 2005 to promote the album, the singer welcomes journalists at the George V, a luxury hotel in Paris’s 8th arrondissement, at the invitation of Mercury, an arm of Universal Music France, which has bet heavily by guaranteeing the heavy rotation of the “It’s Like That” video on French radio and music channels (two TV appearances are scheduled: the show Hit Machine, for a lip-synced performance of the single, and an interview with Thierry Ardisson on Tout le monde en parle). Arriving by private jet with her entourage, Mariah showcases her diva ways, determined to reclaim her legendary status. Jean-Louis Gérard is among the lucky few called in during the afternoon, warned that the star’s schedule must always be taken with a grain of salt.

After waiting an hour, the journalist and documentarian is invited into the suite allocated for interviews. There, he watches in astonishment at the circus surrounding the star: a dozen assistants, makeup artists, hairstylists, and a publicist come and go. Everything in the staging dramatizes the situation. Seated cross-legged on a sofa, frequently having her hair touched up, Mariah nonchalantly sips a Diet Coke through a straw. After forty-five minutes, Mariah expresses concern about the man in front of her: “Could you move it along a bit? Let’s not keep this young man waiting; he might think I’m acting like a diva.” Admiring herself in the monitor, lips pursed, she complains about her outfit, then asks her interviewer’s opinion. Caught off guard, he struggles to respond in a way that pleases her, so she steps out to change clothes. Another hour of waiting. The label representatives showed their frustration and were forced to cancel other interviews.

Despite a total delay of three hours, Jean-Louis Gérard says he was not disappointed; the singer displayed humor and plenty of memorable quips: “The failure of Glitter? The film came out on September 11th, honey,” “Do I sometimes feel misunderstood? But of course, ever since my time in the incubator, my darling.” The journalist realizes that Mariah is fully aware of the fantasized persona she is expected to inhabit while keeping it at a distance with a touch of self-deprecation. The mega-star reasserts her status ten years after her triumphant Parisian stint on the Daydream World Tour.

The rest of the promotional campaign justifies the diva’s revived attitude. The next single, “We Belong Together,” was released on March 29, 2005. For the singer, this track becomes the ballad of all records: voted Song of the 2000s by Billboard (having already had the Song of the 1990s with “One Sweet Day”), it remains at the top of the Billboard Hot 100 for fifteen weeks (“One Sweet Day” stayed for sixteen). The public applauds the return to the glory of the diva and her voice. The song expresses the desperate laments of a lover ready to do anything to win back her beloved (“When you left I lost a part of me/It’s still so hard to believe/Come back baby please/We belong together”).

This whirlwind of non-stop emotion, spelled out in detail in the two verses with a haunting melody, sometimes sung staccato (the first verse about regrets, the second about the current symptoms of the breakup), is underpinned by a cadenced backbone courtesy of a Roland TR-808 drum machine often used in hip-hop, delivering a distinct bass drum and hi-hat sound, accompanied by a melancholy piano, merging hip-hop and soul tones.

In an unstoppable crescendo, the second verse spills into the final refrain, an octave higher, where the singer releases the full passion of her chest voice before sustaining one final plea for reconciliation for nearly fifteen seconds. The war machine that is “We Belong Together” sweeps everything in its path and once again propels the singer’s career to the heights of her early years. The video reuses her biography in a shifted narrative: after the events of “It’s Like That,” the moment arrives for the singer to marry the older man. Just as she’s about to say “I do,” she leaves the ceremony and runs away in her wedding dress with the young man from the party, leaving the old Mottola figure behind in favor of youth and a life of freedom.

In three months, Mariah performed the song on nearly ten different TV shows: the single’s success is the perfect launchpad for The Emancipation of Mimi, which was released in April 2005. This success is so great that it prevents the third single, “Shake It Off,” from reaching number one on the Billboard Hot 100, condemned to remain in second place behind the unstoppable behemoth. True to form, The Emancipation shines with a glorious luster (it will sell ten million units, like Butterfly; that’s even more than her second album. Emotions). The cover reprises the golden palette of Charmbracelet, but the royal gold is dramatized by a chiaroscuro effect that highlights her confident silhouette in a baroque dress.

The album is a tribute to the golden age of Motown, with numerous mid-tempos supported by acoustic instruments and brass. Following the model of “Subtle Invitation” from the previous opus, “Circles” and “I Wish You Knew” are high-level soul tracks crafted with Big Jim Wright. The production brings back the 1970s spirit of Stevie Wonder and Minnie Riperton through less processed, livelier acoustic arrangements—sometimes with added texture, as in “Stay the Night,” produced by Kanye West, which samples an instrumental by Ramsey Lewis, “Betcha By Golly, Wow,” a track also recorded by the Stylistics, a Philadelphia soul group renowned for its orchestral arrangements (The Stylistics, 1971).

A whole new sense of confidence, fulfillment, and vocal assurance emanates from the album: “Mine Again,” for instance, proves that the voice hasn’t vanished. Over a classic arrangement of keyboard, flutes, and brass, Mariah pushes her chest voice very high, even higher at the end of the middle eight and the final chorus, raised by an octave. In “Joy Ride,” her voice is powerfully sustained for nearly seventeen seconds before ending on strong whistle notes. If the diva-singer is back, it’s as much through her voice as her attitude: she refuses to be pushed around anymore (the third single, “Shake It Off,” is a break-up song written like a voicemail message left after she’s gone).

Several upbeat, fast-paced songs crown her as a dance-floor queen, such as “Get Your Number,” based on the R&B hit “Just an Illusion” by Imagination (In the Heat of the Night, 1982), or “To the Floor” by the Neptunes. In both tracks, the scene takes place in a club (“Oh damn! The club’s about to close in a minute”; “Whatever happens/It’s going down tonight/Because you and me got business/We are gonna handle it tonight”), and Mariah becomes a seductress through brief, lascivious confessions (“Tell me a little something about you/Hear a little something about me”).

At the end of the album, “Fly Like a Bird” serves as a spiritual finale. Pastor Clarence Keaton preaches at the beginning of this gospel piece produced by Big Jim Wright: “Weeping may endure for a night/But joy comes in the morning/Trust Him.” Mariah was determined to pay tribute to him: he guided her soul after the chaos of Glitter and helped her rebuild her confidence. The last notes are in whistle register: “Higher, Jesus,” she articulates in shimmering high notes, while the choir sustains a weightless “Carry me higher, Lord.” An avowed Episcopalian, discreet yet unwavering in her faith, Mariah has often spoken of her deference to God, whom she believes to be the source of her voice and success.

Like her, Christine Daaé in Gaston Leroux’s The Phantom of the Opera (1910) is a sensitive, solitary singer who loses both parents at a very young age. After a childhood in Brittany filled with stories and the promise of one day being blessed by the Angel of Music, Christine moves from being a simple dancer to an extraordinary singer under the tutelage of the Phantom of the Opera, Erik, whom she believes to be that very Angel. From this special relationship with a fantastical father figure, she draws her gift, her sensitivity, and her unparalleled musicality—though Erik becomes a prison for her soul (in his great jealousy, he refuses to let her marry anyone else and forces her to wear a ring so she’ll remain pure for him).

On numerous occasions, Mariah has discussed her personal relationship with God through prayer: “I feel the difference when I don’t have my private moments to pray. I said to my father when I went through all that stuff, ‘I feel like I’ve gone through everything but death, so I’m not scared of anything anymore.’ Once you fall that hard and have been kicked and kicked, you learn to protect yourself. I’m a fighter, but I learned that I’m not in charge. Whatever God wants to happen is what’s going to happen. I feel like I’ve had endless second, third, fourth, fifth, and sixth chances. It’s by the grace of God I’m still here. Yes, I’m frustrated a lot of the time, I go through bad days. But, I’m ecstatic where I am.”

At the 2006 Grammys, her performance was preceded by an on-camera interview in which she stated that her voice is a divine gift that has helped her overcome every challenge in her life (“For me, music has always been connected to spirituality, and I know that without it, I could never have survived any of my life’s circumstances. I am truly grateful to God for giving me this voice”). For five minutes, she then sings a live medley of “We Belong Together” and “Fly Like a Bird,” joined at the end by a choir. Despite the palpable tension, Mariah manages to wow the audience, who gives her a long-standing ovation. She leaves the evening with three Grammys, marking her comeback after winning no awards for Daydream in 1995. Mariah seems to have finally found herself in this organic middle ground between soul and hip-hop—which she would have liked to adopt earlier in her career had she had control.

The album’s success is such that an expanded reissue appears in November 2005: “Don’t Forget About Us” (her seventeenth number one), a slightly watered-down carbon copy of “We Belong Together” whose magic they keep trying to replicate (Mariah believes its emotional force is what connected with the audience), is the first new addition. It’s followed by “So Lonely (One and Only Part II),” a sequel to “The One and Only” with Twista, produced by the vibrant Darkchild, who is known for blending pop with a punchy R&B style, as well as a more hip-hop remix of “We Belong Together” with Styles P and Jadakiss, produced by DJ Clue, who frequently revisits tracks.

“Fly Like a Bird” and “Say Somethin’” featuring Snoop Dogg (one of the Neptunes’ productions) serve as the final singles, reflecting the label’s confidence and desire to ride the album’s success for as long as possible—success that leads to a nationwide U.S. tour. The Adventures of Mimi is a big-budget production complete with choreography, a theater set, and side staircases. The setlist is built around an effective alternating of old and new hits, a formula she still uses to this day.

The show opens with the solemn hip-hop of “It’s Like That,” mixed with the percussive “Sucker MC’s (Krush Groove 1)” by Run-DMC (Run-D.M.C., 1983). Filmed in Anaheim, the concert is not as heavily overdubbed or post-produced as the Daydream Tour footage, and her voice often sounds strained when she summons her chest register; on the other hand, she delivers resounding whistle tones, such as when she sings a snippet of “Can’t Let Go” (Emotions, 1991) at a fan’s request, or adds long, crystalline exclamations at the end of “Vision of Love.” The costumes, however, are pretty flashy, and Mariah often shimmies with her midriff bare and tanned as if to remind everyone of her paternal heritage.

Standout (★★★★½)