The Meaning of Mariah Carey, стр. 36

Technically, I had been writing since before I was a teenager. I wrote poems and sketches of songs in my diary. Every once in a while I would be alone in the house, or my mother would be asleep, and I would have a moment of lightness in the small, dim living room, sitting on the wooden piano stool at my mother’s surprisingly well-kept brown upright Yamaha piano. I would prop my diary on the music shelf, feet dangling. I’d hum a bit of a melody, search for the keys that were the closest to my voice. Then, very quietly—nearly whispering—I’d sing a few words with the melody.

I trusted the music I was hearing in my head. I believed it was akin to the popular songs I heard on the radio. My songs didn’t mimic the style or sound of what I heard; rather, I would always search for the right sound, the one that felt like me. And I believed my sound would fit in with, or even break through, what was on the radio. I really believed that. I knew what I was hearing was advanced for my age, but luckily I was working with two guys who were very collaborative and open to working with such a young and female artist. So it was there in their mother’s house, in a sad little slapped-together studio, that I wrote and produced one of my favorite demos, “To Begin” (I still love it, but sadly it’s among one of the many lost tapes of little Mariah). I was confident I had a solid song.

They were like, “Why are we listening to this little kid?” Honestly, I just don’t think they understood the culture, genres, and tones I was working with. They really were weird little garage-band hippieish-type guys. Indeed, I was a little kid, but I also knew where the pulse of the culture was—and that they were not anywhere near it. The discipline of working with them was good for me. But by the time I was fifteen, I had outgrown them.

One of my first regular gigs was with these two sketchy guys who made demos. They liked my sound because I had that young-girl quality that was popular at the time, largely because of Madonna’s success. But I was actually a young girl, and my vocals could get into that high pitch range naturally. I could emulate the popular Madonna studio technique, but with my voice alone.

I auditioned by singing one of the songs they wrote, and they hired me on the spot. So the sketchy guys began paying me to sing demos. This was the official start of my professional career—and of a never-ending succession of sketchy characters that came with it. I had entered the treacherous territory of the “music industry.” Though my journey was just beginning, I would soon be initiated into the complicated dynamics that female artists have to endure. As I now know, most don’t make it through.

There were weird vibes from the start because I couldn’t really tell if these guys were pervy or not, but I believed nothing crazy would happen because they both had wives who were around all the time. Naïvely, I thought these women might take on big-sister type roles with me. They were all full-blown adults, and I was still just about a child, but unfortunately, my age and talent caused friction. Even though I was a scrawny little teenager (I mean, my body was pretty much a straight line at that age), one of the wives was threatened by me. She was always close by, prancing around in short shorts, giving me evil energy. I didn’t understand what was going on. I was too young to get it, and also, I was there to work. Maybe my own short shorts were inappropriate around these older men. I didn’t know. I was just a kid getting her first whiff of independence, and besides, a few pairs of cheap shorts and tops were all I owned. I was in a battle of the short shorts, and I didn’t even know it.

I continued recording demos of songs for the guys, making a little money. But again, just as with the garage-band dudes, we were putting down their songs, though I believed my songs were stronger. And again, I asked if they were open to me writing some songs. Initially, they refused. It was totally frustrating: here I was singing weird, corny songs again. Didn’t these people even listen to the radio? I wondered. Didn’t they know what was popular? I studied the music on the radio closely, constantly analyzing what was in heavy rotation. I knew the songs they were writing weren’t good. Despite not liking the material, I sang it because it was my job, and I really needed the money. But now that I’d had a taste of making demos, I knew I needed to get my own songs down, and quickly.

Later I was able to make a deal with one of the guys who owned a studio: I would sing demos for him if he would let me work on my own. I brought in one of the songs I had begun at my mother’s piano at the shack, called “Alone in Love.” I sat in a room alone and began to make my very first demos. My own.

Swept me away

But now I’m lost in the dark

Set me on fire

But now I’m left with a spark

Alone, you got beyond the haze and

I’m lost inside the maze

I guess I’m all alone in love

—“Alone in Love”

I figured out the setup. I experimented with the songs. I did dance tracks, straight down the line, all different sounds. I learned how to produce under pressure. I was in the studio, doing it. “Alone in Love” was one of the first tracks on my demo. A version of the song eventually made it onto my first album and remains one of