FEATURE:
Whenever You Call
Mariah Carey’s Butterfly at Twenty-Five
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I am immersing myself…
IN THIS PHOTO: Mariah Carey during the Butterfly photoshoot/PHOTO CREDIT: Michael Thompson
in album anniversaries over the next week or so. This and next month, there are big anniversaries for album, by, among others, The Smiths, Talking Heads, Radiohead, Janet Jackson, and R.E.M. Although not necessarily Mariah Carey’s best-received album, I felt I had to mark the approaching twenty-fifth anniversary of Butterfly as it is hugely important. Her sixth studio album was released on 16th September, 1997. I remember when this came out, I was in high school. Singles like Honey and Butterfly were being played by a lot of my peers. While she mainly spoke to girls of that age, I was aware of a much broader and diverse listening audience outside of the school gates. I have always liked Mariah Carey, and Butterfly did top the album chart in the U.S. Seen as an R&B classic, it won awards and gained a lot of critical love. Like I do with album anniversaries, I am going to drop in a couple of sample reviews, just to show what critics make of Butterfly. Before that, there are a couple of features that give us more insight and background to one of Carey’s greatest and most important albums. Albumism marked twenty years of Butterfly in 2017. Among other things, they discussed its reception and success:
“Carey’s womanhood unfolds over the record’s expanse, lyrically and vocally. The title piece is a riveting gospel-pop stunner, recast later as a brief, but ascendant dance jam “Fly Away (Butterfly Reprise).” Many of the downtempo tracks on Butterfly borrow from devotional/non-secular music mechanisms―with exceptions for the ephemeral jazz of “Fourth of July” and the Spanish flecked “My All”―as it relates to Carey’s vocal intermix of power and nuance. But, she explores new vocal techniques too. Her rapid-fire delivery of lines from the album’s centerpiece, “Breakdown,” sting and soothe―a picture-perfect conveyance of resilience and heartbreak. Her guests on the track, Bone Thugs-N-Harmony, complement Carey and do not subvert or subtract from her or the song.
The only “swing and a miss” moment on Butterfly is an ill-conceived duet with Dru Hill frontman Sisqó on the Prince chestnut “The Beautiful Ones.”
Released on September 16, 1997, Butterfly went on to collect five platinum certifications in America. Globally, the record tallied silver, gold and platinum marks in Australia, England, Japan and Canada, among others. Beginning in the autumn 1997 and concluding in the spring of 1998, Butterfly produced five singles: “Honey” (US #1, US R&B #2, US Dance #1), “Butterfly” (US AC #11), “The Roof,” “Breakdown” (US R&B #4), “My All” (US #1, US R&B #4, US AC#18). Continuing tension between Carey and Columbia caused the mishandling of format and market specificity for these singles. Subsequently, their respective impacts were strong, but scattered in multiple territories.
Critically, Butterfly received mostly unanimous praise, amassing industry nominations, honors and awards, but its biggest gift to Carey? It distilled her gifts of songwriting, singing and that impeccable ear on one album. Even with the peaks and valleys Carey has endured―artistically, professionally and personally―Butterfly is remembered for its delicacy and strength”.
I have listened to Butterfly quite a bit 1997, but I am not too aware of the background and history of it. Two years after the incredible Daydream, Butterfly pushed Carey more into R&B territory. Carey had little control over the creative and artistic steps she took on her albums following her marriage to Tommy Mottolo. However, after their divorce midway (through the album's conception), she was able to assume more influence and control in terms of the writing and production. Making the songs and sound more in her own image rather than that of Mottolo. Carey has said how 1997’s Butterfly was a turning point and really important moment in her life. Essence took a look at Butterfly in 2020. Some of its creators (including Carey) reflected on a classic that cemented her as one of the world’s best artists:
“Of course she’s technically “pop,” in the purest sense of the word. With ten platinum studio albums, 34 Grammy Nominations, countless Billboard hits and a slew of other record-breaking achievements, she is undoubtedly one of the most popular and prolific artists of all time.
But she didn’t choose that. It was kind of inevitable, right? Her voice alone —its palpability, its singularity— primed her for a career of singing chart-topping hits. She couldn’t help it.
It’s the other connotation of “pop” that doesn’t quite fit and feels more determined —the one that makes you think of bubblegum— light, generic, lacking substance or burden. The kind of label we give to artists who can create anthems, but rarely get intimate. That’s where Mariah gets off the train.
IN THIS PHOTO: Mariah Carey during the Butterfly photoshoot/PHOTO CREDIT: Michael Thompson
To not define (or to not at least offer a careful disclaimer) when calling Mariah “pop” is to ignore her legacy of delivering masterfully written music that’s personal, profound and soulful —the antithesis of the typical pop music formula. While songs like “Love Takes Time” and “One Sweet Day” from her earlier albums hinted at Carey’s desire to go deeper, it was 1997’s Butterfly that solidified the rhythm and blues quotient in her music and presented her as a vulnerable and self-reflective artist ready to break free.
With Butterfly, she created a classic. More than a branding tool, the butterfly became synonymous with Carey, and for a good reason. The imagery of a vibrant, spirited thing with incomparable beauty and an unpredictable wingspan, was the perfect mascot for Carey’s unprecedented range as a musician and an artist —her dynamic voice, so striking and distinct, it could only be something crafted by the Divine. Not to mention the butterfly’s process of becoming —its life cycle, its transition while cocooning, the stages of egg, caterpillar and then butterfly— served as an idyllic symbol for a woman on the brink of emerging.
But Butterfly was more than a statement of her proverbial metamorphosis as an artist and woman. The album had tangible implications in her personal life and musical legacy. For one, it was her first album after her separation from Tommy Mottola, a divorce that afforded her the creative and personal freedom to produce music on her own terms. The album also catalyzed the pop music trend of collaborating with hip-hop artists (every other “pop diva” would soon follow suit.) And finally, Butterfly not only showcased her already-established prowess as a vocalist, who could belt out ballads or flirt over the hottest summer jams but also as one of the most versatile songwriters in contemporary music.
Here Carey and her collaborators speak on the creation of the album.
The whole butterfly theme.
Mariah: “I was never actually into butterflies, but I kept hearing this song in my head. ‘Spread your wings and prepare to fly because you have become a butterfly.’ And at the time, I was leaving the home where I lived and on the mantel there was a piece that this guy had made and it had a little butterfly in the middle. I had just written the song, [so it felt like a sign]. That was the only thing I took from that house. It burned to the ground.”
The house she is referring to is the mansion she shared with then husband and producer Tommy Mottola, which she nicknamed “sing-sing,” after the New York prison. Her and Mottola separated in 1997 and in an odd sort of poetic justice, two years later the home burned to the ground in an accidental fire. During the course of their six-year marriage, Mottola reportedly controlled Carey’s personal and professional life, and in his 2013 book, even admits that the marriage was “wrong and inappropriate.” Butterfly was Carey’s first album without Mottola’s oversight.
Stevie J: “She was just being herself [when we worked together]. She was married at a young age, so you know she had really began to find herself and the woman she wanted to be. It’s a great thing for a woman when she gains her independence, so I didn’t really see anything other than just her being a happy, spirited person. We would have our Cristal and our wine and just be writing smashes.”
Da Brat: “Once she broke away from the cocoon, she spread her wings and flew on her own. She was ready to handle her own life. The ‘Honey’ video showed her escaping from an island. ‘Butterfly’ (the song) is self-explanatory. She came into herself. The album was soulful because that’s who she was. Behind all the glam, she was hood, still a kid, knew all of the lyrics to all rap songs… and just wanted to express herself in her own way. Her words are her truth. ‘Breakdown,’ just listen to the words. She joined forces with her favorite hip-hop homies who she knew she had great creative chemistry with and soared even higher.”
Collaborating with a legend.
For Butterfly, Carey worked with Da Brat, Jermaine Durpi, Sean “Puffy” Combs, Q-Tip, Stevie J, Mase, Mobb Deep and Bone Thugs-N-Harmony. Although now it’s not uncommon for rap and pop artists to collaborate, Mariah was one of the first artists to popularize it with hits like “Fantasy,” “Heartbreaker,” and “Honey.”
Stevie J: “When I got with Puff, he was like, ‘Imma introduce you to Mariah and you gone work on an album.’ And I was like, ‘Yeah, right. Yeah right. Get the f-ck out of here.’ But he made it happen. And she was so f-ckin cool and it’s crazy because she’s one of our legends. Nobody can say she didn’t pay her dues —she sold a lot of records… and she still looks good.”
Da Brat: “’Always Be My Baby’ was the very first time I met MC. I went with JD to her and Tommy Mottola’s home. They lived right next door to Ralph Lauren. I felt like royalty. I was blown away. We hung out, she stole a car (she had twenty and had never driven them) and drove me to McDonald’s. We got in trouble and were typical Aries. I was a kid that wanted to scream like a true fan but I had to keep it together and maintain my So So Def swag.”
Stevie J: “Even though I was nervous in the studio, she just always made me feel comfortable with my talents and abilities. She would let me sing background vocals, and just vibe. When we first met, we did ‘Honey.’ It was me, Puff and Q Tip. Q-Tip came up with the sample and after I had the sample looped, I put the chords, music, and drums on and she was just like, ‘Yo, your bounce is crazy. Where did you learn how to do all these instruments?’ From there, we just developed this great rapport.”
Mariah, the writer.
With the exception of “The Beautiful Ones,” a remake of Prince’s song, Mariah wrote or co-wrote each track on Butterfly. Carey’s former manager and American Idol judge, Randy Jackson reportedly stated that out of the “Big 3” (Whitney, Celine and Mariah) Mariah is the only one who also writes her own music. And according to her collaborators she really, really writes.
Stevie J: “When you have someone with that type of writing ability… Her pen game is lethal.”
Da Brat: “When MC works, she likes to write together with the producer or artist she’s collaborating with. She starts humming melodies, we throw ideas in the pot, different scenarios, rhymes, ad-libs, harmonies and then a masterpiece is crafted.”
Mariah: “I love writing, sometimes more than singing. There’s something about it. I love poetry. I love writing melodies. I love collaborating with other writers. When I’m not doing it, I don’t feel like myself”.
I think Butterfly, like Daydream, is one of those albums that anyone can appreciate. You do not need to be a fan of Mariah Carey and know her work to like what you hear. It is such a brilliantly performed and written album! Whilst my first experience of the album was at school in 1997 where certain contemporaries were listening but it was not being shared, I have grown to explore and appreciate Butterfly since those early days when I heard the odd single played here and there. I am going to wrap things up with a couple of reviews. This is what SLANT said about Butterfly in their 2003 review:
“Honey” and “Butterfly” together exemplify the abrupt gear shifting that appreciating Mariah the artist requires. Butterfly’s pop brilliance doesn’t always come easy, where detecting it depends on the audience’s newfound ability to apply Carey’s pop life to her pop music (the divorce shaded her in and put some real-life behind her on-record misery). Like very good camp, Butterfly requires work. Russ Meyer knew and Paul Verhoeven sometimes remembers that the most enthralling camp is that which doesn’t always announce itself as such (ahem, John Waters), but which alternately winks knowingly and blinks blindly at the consumers, awarding them the decision of what’s good, what’s bad, and what’s so-bad-it’s-good. Though Butterfly does a lot more blinking, there’s a similar mechanism at work that’s actually inherent to all of Carey’s music, since all unbearable sappiness, to varying degrees, counteracts with her extremely listenable, extraordinary voice. Butterfly heightens the effect as Carey swings wildly between emotional extremes (cool and, to use one of a few 10-cent words Carey drops throughout the album, fervid), between mushy subject matter and specificity. Carey’s means may not be as astute as those of Meyer and Verhoeven, but her end has the head-spinning effect that the aforementioned auteurs ideally achieve: entertainment by any means necessary.
Butterfly is too eager to please for it to merely settle into guilty pleasuredom. Yes, it’s incredibly slow and the flutter turns to a crawl during the album’s final third, which becomes audacious with a how-slow-can-you-go cover of Prince’s “The Beautiful Ones” with Dru Hill. But a moderate pace more often suits Carey, who’s less prone to running (thematically and vocally) to the bigger picture during Butterfly’s wonderful middle. Little more than yearning, kissing, and remembering happens during the course of “The Roof,” a rough-enough R&B revision of Mobb Deep’s “The Shook Ones.” But lyrically, Mariah the writer is vivid, sometimes shockingly clever (rhyming “liberated” with “Moet” is a stroke of genius).
Butterfly peaks exactly where it should, with its sixth track, “Breakdown.” It’s the song of Carey’s career, where the lyrical strokes are as broad and obvious as they are naked. The song’s central question, “So what do you do when/Somebody you’re so devoted to/Suddenly just stops loving you?” is so naïve and bare, it’s almost as devastating as a child asking hard questions about death. The song finds Carey paired with half of Bone Thugs-N-Harmony, Krayzie Bone and Wish Bone. Mariah the chanter flawlessly adapts to their singsong style, largely boxing her multi-octave range into a sly, hypnotic melody so that when she really wails at the end, you really feel it. As with “The Roof,” Carey lunges toward musical maturity by embracing, not shunning hip-hop. This is the height of her elegance—and maybe hip-hop-soul’s too.
The comedown after “Breakdown,” and the last in the album’s mid-game rally, is “Babydoll,” Carey’s sole stab at Timbaland-styled skitter balladry to date. No longer able to seem nonchalant about the breakup that surfaces repeatedly throughout the album, Carey wants to be smothered once again: “Wrap me up nice and tight/Love me all through the night.” And here Mariah the confessor explicitly reveals what post-“Honey” Butterfly lacks: “I wanna get intimate/But you’re not within my reach.”
A quiet storm album without the fucking, Butterfly is, above everything, idiosyncratic. Here, like never before, we’re asked to take Carey for what she is: unabashedly chaste but ultra femme, unrelentingly precious but undeniably vulnerable. It’s this perceived waffling that makes Carey such a divisive pop artist; certainly the girliness doesn’t help either, since femmephobia is perhaps the status quo’s least-questioned fear. And it’s Mariah the inconsistent that makes Butterfly so ultimately fascinating and endearing.
Viewing her character from a completely different angle on the album’s weepy last track, “Outside,” Carey observes that she’s “always somewhat out of place everywhere/Ambiguous/Without a sense of belonging to touch/Somewhere halfway/Feeling there’s no one completely the same.” Whether she’s talking about her mixed-race heritage, her career, or both, it’s the old Carey one-two, a seemingly unhappy ending fueled by the know-thyself philosophy that otherwise makes Butterfly joyous. As Carey’s most bizarre moment of self-celebration, it’s also a triumph, since it could only make sense coming from Mariah the person”.
I am going to conclude with Sputnikmusic’s 2017 review. They marked it as a classic and noted how this was a personal and spiritual quest and revelation for Carey. A moment of honesty and truth where she was almost breaking away from chains and being held back, you can hear this sense of emancipation and strength throughout Butterfly:
“There is a lot of lyrical content on Butterfly that relies much on Carey’s existing skills as a lyricist, and her innate ability to write about love and the difficulty in human relationships, as she did in her previous work. In track nine, Whenever You Call, a piano-driven ballad co-arranged and produced with Carey’s longtime writing partner Walter Afanasieff, there is evidence of this fact. The second verse finishes with an acknowledgment and understanding that the narrator’s affection and empathy for another has compelled her to search herself, with greater transparency than ever before: “And you have opened my heart/And lifted me inside/By showing me yourself undisguised”. The distinction between the language used in this song and in album closer Outside is one that, in my opinion, seems to deal with the relationship between the universal and the personal, like the other tracks on Butterfly, and Carey’s personal lived experience transforming into a universal thing- as a caterpillar metamorphoses into a butterfly, eventually. When Carey reveals her internal struggles with self-acceptance and racial identity in the lyrics and vocal performance on Outside, she is doing so with a level of transparency and intimacy that which she had not done prior to Butterfly. While her debut album has Carey grasping at the concept of systemic racism in There’s Got to Be a Way on a global scale, Outside allows her to express her own uncertainties, insecurities, and constants that she believes in, such as her faith- that she has kept private and is only now beginning to shed, and perhaps, resolve.
It isn’t only within the ballads that these lyrical transformations occur, but in the mid-tempo R&B numbers Breakdown and Babydoll, which are polar in their contrasts of Breakdown’s frustration and pain in a relationship, and Babydoll’s near-erotic level of intimacy and degree of sexual confidence and liberation. Breakdown is the realization of suffering at the hand of another, but claiming personal accountability in a need to not allow oneself or another to create emotional trauma that only damages existing scars. This is achieved not only with Mariah’s contributions to the record, but guests Krayzie and Wish Bone’s rap section, functioning as the bridge of the song, before, from a production and compositional standpoint- the lines “…going to extremes to prove I’m fine without you” and “…and I lie convincingly” converge into one-minute-and-thirty-seconds of self-actualization. This closure consists of layers of harmonies, ad libs, and backing vocals by Carey, reinforcement by Krayzie and Wish Bone that one must “better get control”, and the denial at the onset of Breakdown becoming self-awareness by its end, as demonstrated in the best way Carey can, which is enough. Between Breakdown and Babydoll, as well as Honey and The Roof, she was able to marry and integrate the sounds native to modern R&B at the time with fresh and distinctive lyrical, rhythmic, and melodic choices while maintaining her artistic integrity.
Following Mariah Carey’s first world tour for her most successful album in her home country, Daydream, both fans and critics alike have observed over the years, that her voice suffered at the hand of her intention to please her international fans. Despite various phases of rest Carey has taken following Butterfly, most people believe that her voice will never return to the way that it was during the early to mid-nineties. It is well-documented throughout the history of vocal pedagogy that the human voice does indeed undergo significant changes, regardless of one being a professional singer or not, but that singers are often in their vocal prime during their thirties, particularly classical singers. It should be noted though, that not every classical singer has had to promote, record, tour, and use their instrument quite as much as Carey had to in the first seven years of her career alone, debuting at the age of 20. It can be argued, therefore, that Carey’s physiological changes to her instrument are not only responsible for several tracks on Butterfly being more subdued and less vocally taxing as her previous records indicate, but that this change to her instrument has left her neither a weaker nor stronger vocalist, but perhaps one- “...on the verge of fading…nearing the edge…” in the self-reflections on track eight Close My Eyes, and one who, thankfully, “…woke up in time.”
Mariah Carey is doing exactly what she wants on this album. There is no more pretense than the fictional worlds and narratives created by her music videos for this album. She is doing what she wants, and doing it extremely well. Whether or not it’s what she wanted from the beginning, or just for a moment- this is her at her best, most honest self. As she writes in the titular Butterfly, track two: “When you love someone so deeply they become your life/It’s easy to succumb to overwhelming fears inside…”, Carey’s evanescing relationship with her ex-husband and CEO-of-Sony comes secondary to her desire and need to “…prevent this hurt from almost overtaking me…”. On Butterfly, Carey is not only evaluating the risk-reward of being honest with herself to the world, but finding a determination and certainty in the spiritual and creative flight that which she has craved for many, many years”.
Because the mighty and majestic Butterfly is twenty-five on 16th September, I wanted to write something ahead of time. I haven’t heard of any anniversary vinyl release for the album but, if anyone has, then let me know. Carey would go on to release other terrific albums after Butterfly, but many (possibly herself included) consider Butterfly to be her greatest achievement. In a phenomenal and hugely competitive musical year (1997), Carey’s sixth studio album definitely stood out. It is a stunning album from an iconic artist. If I was a bit slow to appreciate the album when I was a teen, knowing more about it and what Mariah Carey had to go through until as recently as halfway through recording Butterfly has bonded it to me! A step into new territory here – compared to the Adult Contemporary vibes pre-1997 – Butterfly is a maturation and evolution. On its twenty-fifth anniversary on 16th September, I hope that Mariah Carey remembers…
BUTTERFLY very fondly.