Mariah's voice plays second fiddle onstage
Since Mariah Carey first performed in Chicago seven years ago, she has been transformed from a wannabe Whitney to a wannabe Britney. At a mere 29, the Long Island-bred diva with the fabled five-octave range has an undeniably impressive commercial history: She is the only artist to have scored a No. 1 hit in every year of the '90s, selling some 125 million records worldwide.
These accomplishments make it especially difficult to fathom why Carey turned her sold-out show at the United Center on Saturday night - one of only 18 dates on her second-ever tour - into a shtick- and spectacle-laden parody. In terms of sheer gimmickry, video silliness, and outlandish costume changes, it outdid the last tours by Cher and the Spice Girls combined.
The problem is that there are two Carey audiences. One consists of fans from the early '90s won over by her skillfully crafted romantic pop and bravura vocals. This was the Carey on display at her first Chicago performance in 1993 - a little stiff, perhaps, but giving fellow diva Whitney Houston a real run for her money.
On the other side of the divide are "the lambs" - the legions of young fans who came on board with the recent "Rainbow" and "Butterfly" albums. This is a generation for whom music is simply the stuff that happens behind videos. For them, Carey is competing as a pop heroine and seductress with Britney Spears and Christina Aguilera.
The contrast was illustrated at the United Center by a row of teenage girls behind me who spent the entire night shouting, "We love you Mariah!" Meanwhile, two late twentysomething couples in front of me walked out midway through the show (despite having paid $75 a ticket) saying, "I wish she'd just stop all this nonsense and sing."
The "nonsense" included endless poorly made video skits, a staged battle between the "good" Mariah and her "evil" alter-ego Bianca, a taped duet with Snoop Dogg, eight different "ensembles" (as Carey called her skin-baring costumes), and staged encounters with her adoring fans.
She sang all or part of 15 hits, including "Close My Eyes," "Crybaby," "Emotion," and "Honey." But the music consistently took a back seat to the spectacle, and the bursts of virtuoso vocalizing were limited to a few explosions of high-register trilling that had dogs howling as far away as Rockford.
Much of the heavy lifting in the vocal department was done by Carey's backing singers: Melonia Daniels, Lloyd Smith, Mary Ann Tatum and Tracy Harris. They joined a cast of nine dancers and six musicians who delivered pristine, CD-perfect, and thoroughly soulless renditions of Carey's songs.
"You know what? I'm just being real," the diva declared at one point while having her nose powdered by her makeup man. Yes, kids, and there really is a Tooth Fairy, too. (Chicago Sun Times)
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