In lieu of a real blogs for the next what, week or so, I am bringing Twitter to One A Day. Officially. I’m talking 150 word paragraphs (bit different) and crazy, incisive commentary on all the latest (nothing out of the usual). Thredbo, you see, has limited Internetz capacity. As such, it has taken me about thirty-five minutes to get to the point where I can actually type something into this here browser and now I still have to write something! Also, my knees are hurting like a bitch given my five straight runs down the 3.7km supertrail. Talk about overenthusiasm.
On the topic of overzealots; Mariah Carey. She has the most #1 singles of any solo artist on the US charts (18, second only to The Beatles), is married to a fucking massive guy (actor? Nick Cannon), was married to a mad record-exec (Tommy Mottola) and has nice tits. She likes falsetto. That’s about as much biography as we need for the moment.
Next comes the personal struggles and the bad (bad) film/pseudo-biography Glitter. Critics panned it. Mariah Carey got sad. Went into hiding for a couple of years. Returned with a fairly bad album (e=mc^2) which attempted to suggest some link between Carey and Mr Relativity. Alas, no dice. She brought in too many producers, too many guests and generally produced a shemozzle of an album.
Now this. There’s no doubt she remains headline-grabbingly famous. But I can’t quite decide whether it’s because of her aforementioned mammary glands, any skerrick of real talent she might have or rather, sheer public interest in celebrity breakdown. On this track, Mimi tries to tackle those who fall in the third category. Supposedly it’s a stab at Eminem. To me, it stinks of a substandard attempt at postmodern lyricism, wildly self-reflexive and an overarching failure. I’m no carreers advisor but hiding your best assets and dressing up as a guy is quite plainly not the way forward. Stick to the falsetto and drawing out your vowels, Mimi.
Mariah Carey – Obsessed
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