'Butterfly'

My favorite thing in the world outside of watching people on Christian television is listening to people overanalyze pure pop-star diva-driven pop music. 

Nothing against Mariah Carey, Britney Spears, Christina Aguilera and the dozens upon dozens of other bubble gum pop stars through the ages, but you’re not curing cancer. 

You’re a pretty face with a pretty good to great voice. There’s nothing wrong with that. I wish I were a pretty face with a half-decent voice. Hell, I’d take the pretty face. 

Still, I find people that try to rationalize albums like these as having meaning and possible value. Honestly, I think Carey’s done much, much better albums. If I listen to pop, I want hooks. I want pep. (I’m pretty sure Tom Hanks’ character in That Thing You Do said the same thing.)

Butterfly is boring. There are no hooks and I can’t even sing to it. And I don’t want to hear about what the album is saying about Carey at the time. She may or may not be vulnerable and I’m sure at some point during the process she got her feelings hurt and I’m sure she was really happy and in love. 

Doesn’t make any difference to the songs. They’re not windows into her soul. They’re singles.