In the wake of the success of the “Fantasy” remix featuring Ol’ Dirty Bastard2 I now hadsome ammunition3 that made it slightly easier for me to work with people outside ofTommy’s jurisdiction4. I was starting to reach out to what I thought were the rightcollaborators, with whom I could achieve the sound I’d been hearing for a while, whichincluded infusing hip-hop and working with a diversity of rappers. However, the old guardof A&R and music executives at the major labels didn’t know how to control or containhip-hop and looked at me sideways for my suggestions.
Rap was making a lot of money really fast, so the smart execs raced to try to get apiece of it. And Tommy was no exception. He was smart. Though he’d always had a moretraditional pop/ adult contemporary style in mind for me, he couldn’t deny that theindustry and the audience were shifting. It was well established that Tommy didn’tparticularly like rap or rappers, but he was a shrewd businessman, and despite his initialresistance, he understood that I had my finger on the cultural pulse. I was determined6 formy next single to sound more like the music I was hearing in my head all day, the musicI’d been dreaming of. So began my work on Butterfly.
I had gotten to a place where I was trusted to choose people I was inspired by, not thepredicable players. One of the most talented was a suave7 and scrappy producer out ofAtlanta with a brilliant ear and instinct, Jermaine Dupri. Like me, Jermaine got in thegame early. He was fiercely ambitious and super talented; by the time he was nineteenyears old he’d discovered, developed, written, and produced multiplatinum hits for KrisKross and secured a joint-venture deal for a record label, SoSo Def Recordings8, with Sonyand Columbia.
I was really inspired by the work he did on “Just Kickin’ It” with the fresh girl groupalso out of Atlanta—Xscape. It was intentionally10 “underproduced”; his track choices weresonically raw—just what I was looking for. Once I heard that song, I knew we shouldwork together. Jermaine—aka JD, aka Jermash (as I call him)—and I instantly creativelyclicked. As producers, we both had a fierce discipline in the studio, but we could alsoapproach the music with abandon, unafraid to try new things. We could focus and flowtogether. It was a rare relationship, and we knew it.
Our first collaboration11 was “Always Be My Baby,” on Daydream12. It was the first songwe wrote together, but it was as if we’d done it a million times before. We sat in the studioand approached it like a blank canvas—sonically organic. With the gifted Manuel Seal onkeyboards, we created this cool, yet endearing, classic song.
In order to make the label happy, I had to deliver several versions of a single,including one that was up- tempo5 and simple, scrubbed of all ad- libs and “urbaninflections.” In order to make myself happy and make sure a song I liked could work forthe club kids (who have always given me life), I set aside time to make remixes,sometimes several on one song. I often did complete rewrites and all-new vocal13 tracksrather than recycling from the original—especially when I worked with David Morales.
We would completely re-envision a song. We often worked late at night, when I couldsteal a moment for myself. David would come to the studio, and I’d tell him he could dowhatever he wanted with the song. I’d have a couple splashes of wine, and we would justgo wherever the spirit took us—which were almost always high-energy dance tracks withbig, brand-new vocals14. It was one way I found liberation while locked up in Sing Sing.
I had a remix idea for “Always Be My Baby” and asked JD to bring Xscape and a big,exciting young female rapper out of Chicago named Da Brat15 who had a hit record,“Funkdafied,” that JD had produced, to my studio. Knowing how smoothly16 JD and Iworked together, I calculated that we could bang out a remix and shoot a cool docu-stylevideo all in the same session. It was an efficient move. It was a very big feat1 to secure a hitrecord; you had to be strategic in your creative choices. We chose “Tell Me If You StillCare” by the S.O.S. Band as the sample, thinking that it would be palatable17 for a crossoveraudience, and then having Da Brat rap on it would make it appealing for a hip- hopaudience.
JD was down. I knew how I wanted the remix to sound, with Supremes- stylebackgrounds. I had to redo all the vocals ’cause it was in a different key. But becauseJermaine was so adept18 in the studio and so in tune19 with all of our styles, I knew he couldbring it all together. The session was set—So So Def was coming to Sing Sing.
As you approach the grounds of Sing Sing, a security station sits to the right, obscured bytrees. Inside were multiple screens connected to all the cameras throughout the house andon the property. JD made his way up the long driveway toward the enormous house thatrose like a castle from a thick, fluffy20 blanket of glistening21 snow. He wasn’t prepared forsuch grandeur22. I didn’t realize the rare air I was orbiting in until I caught that moment ofrecognition on JD’s face when he stepped out of the car. The scale and opulence23 of themansion suggested not simply “music star” but the next stratosphere. Sing Sing wassupersized. It was the physical representation of the combined power and influence of meand Tommy, a music-industry power couple. And in that moment, we were the music-industry power couple. When he got to the massive front door, Jermaine looked likeRichard Pryor in The Wiz. Honestly, the whole lot of us looked like a group of childrenplaying in a fairy-tale kingdom. But in actuality it was more like visiting day “upstate.”
The joy was temporary.
It was refreshing24 and a much-welcomed reprieve25 to have a group of fresh artists at myhouse to create something we would love and respect. These were my peers, steeped inhip-hop music and culture—and we were down to make a hit. Though we were all veryyoung, collectively we were worth hundreds of millions of dollars in record sales. Butonce you walked through the gates of Sing Sing, that didn’t mean much. We were now allunder surveillance. JD, Xscape, and Da Brat took note of the excessive presence ofbodyguards and security, but it wasn’t immediately clear to them exactly who or what theywere guarding.
Jermaine was so focused and serious, he went straight to the studio to get acclimatedand organized. He sat at the console, in full command, like the captain of a spaceship.
While he worked on the beat, the girls from Xscape and I vibed and talked through themechanics of the background vocals. It was probably the first time I ever had five womenclose to my age at my house. Xscape was Kandi Burruss, Tameka “Tiny” Cottle, andTamika and LaTocha Scott. With their elaborate Atlanta hairstyles, glossy26 lips, andoversized sportswear, they were super fly and fully27 captured the glamorous-yet-chill lookof women in hip-hop during those years. Their sound and style was exactly the right vibefor the remix and video. I wanted us all to look easy and real, not manipulated by“development executives.”
From the studio you could see the massive French windows, which led to the indoorpool area with its museumlike high ceilings. On clear days the reflection of clouds wouldfloat on the water’s surface from the outdoor pool, which was beyond the walls. From theoutdoor pool you could see the pond, and from there, on a clear night, you could catch thetwinkling lights of Manhattan way in the distance. We hung out in the marble room withthe pool, playing cards, drinking, cracking jokes—almost like actual girlfriends.
And then there was Da Brat. Her energy was irresistible28; I adored her, instantly. I wasvery reserved around new people back then. I had become shy, and it took me a long timeto trust (it still does), but Brat broke right through the wall of my fearful past, on day one.
We had kindred, childlike spirits, only Brat fearlessly flaunted29 her little-girl soul, while Iwas desperately30 hiding mine. A lot of effort, strategy, and money went into creating myclassic-storybook-princess fa?ade, but Brat, with all her irreverent adolescent spirit, armedin a big puffy coat and little braids and barrettes, burst right through my bubble. By thispoint, my life was so controlled by Tommy and his cronies, I could barely see it anymore.
But Brat, with her spontaneity, brashness, and cool-assness, spotted31 my inner little girlright away and shook her awake.
Brat was from the West Side of Chicago and was clearly mesmerized32 by the extranessof Sing Sing. There was absolutely no posturing33 from her; she walked right in the doorlike, “Dayyyyumm!” I took her on a tour of the house. She never tried to contain herwonder as we ran from room to room. But we were not alone—security was always rightthere behind us, like a shadow. When we moved, they moved. For the past four years I hadbeen constantly working on such an intense level. I had so many decisions to make, somany people counting on me and looking to me for answers and a payday. If I had any“free” time, I spent it with Tommy or people his age, people on his payroll34. I hadn’t hadany real fun in such a long time, and Da Brat was a one-woman party.
I just wanted to have fun, but I knew we were being watched and listened to. Therewere cameras and recording9 devices throughout the house. I wasn’t sure where they wereall planted—but I knew of at least one place they weren’t.
Our next stop on the tour was the master bedroom. Brat was so funny; she squealedwhen she saw the giant television screen rise, as if by a magic trick, from a case at the footof our elaborate bed. Brat was no girlie girl—she was wearing oversized jeans, a poloshirt, and Timberland boots—but I made a big deal out of showing her my Coco Chanel–inspired closet and insisted she see my massive fancy shoe collection. I knew if I could gether in the shoe room, security wouldn’t see us; I’d designed it and was pretty sure therewere no cameras or listening devices among my Manolos. I chatted loudly about stilettoesas I slowly closed the door.
We sat on the floor of my shoe closet and kicked it for a bit. We were both Aries, bothsuper silly, and both believed in an awesome35 God. I was having so much fun with Brat,but I knew we couldn’t stay hidden for too long; surely security would get suspicious andexpose my one safe room in the house.
I never knew who was listening, so I whispered to Brat, “Want to go get some frenchfries?” In any other reality, this would have been a mundane36 suggestion, but in mine, itwas about to be a full-scale caper37.
As we emerged from the closet, I put my finger to my mouth and pointed38 at the wall,giving her the signal to be quiet and follow my lead. I chirped39 on about showing heraround the rest of the property, then announced that I wanted to quickly show her the cars.
We skipped along to the garage. Inside there was a fleet of cars. Several of them weremine, most of which I never drove, in part because I was always being driven. I pointed atthe black Mercedes convertible40 and told Brat to get in quickly. I always kept the keysinside the car, so in a matter of seconds I had the engine going. I threw it into gear, and wewhipped around the cul-de-sac, then sped down the driveway and out onto the open road.
Suddenly, there I was: flying down the street in my sports car, with my new, coolhomegirl, laughing deep and loud in the bright wintery afternoon sun. It was exhilarating.
Brat and I had broken out da Big House!
While we were out playing Black Thelma and Louise, Escape from Alcatraz was notplaying so well back at Storybook Manor41. I understood that security was necessary, butwhy was it necessary for them all to be white, with blue eyes and black guns? They weregoing berserk. Before we got the mile or so down the road to the Burger King, Brat’sphone began to ring. I could hear JD yelling on the other end: “Yo, Brat, get the fuck backhere; they going crazy!”
Brat laughed into the phone and replied, “I ain’t driving; Mariah is!” But JD wasclearly upset.
“This ain’t fucking funny,” he said. “Tommy is bugging42 out; he got everybody runningaround looking for y’all; they got guns out and shit!”
Brat shot back, “Damn, we just going to get french fries, JD! If Mariah wants frenchfries, we getting fucking french fries!” She abruptly43 slammed her phone shut, and weproceeded to Burger King.
For the twenty or so minutes, while Brat and I sat in the car eating those fries andcracking jokes, I reveled in the simple excitement of being young. I’ll never forget it.
Jermaine must have called every five minutes, begging us to come back. He went frombeing angry and annoyed to being nervous to being afraid. Brat was quickly realizing howserious our momentary44 escape had been. With every ring, she looked at me withincreasing concern and sadness. We were really only a mile away, and people werepanicking.
She said something like, “This ain’t right. This is your shit, Mariah. Jermaine, Xscape—we all here because of you. You done sold millions of records, girl. You live in a damnpalace. You have everything, but if you can’t be free to go to fucking Burger King whenyou want, you ain’t got nothing. You need to get out of there.” This time she wasn’tlaughing. If Da Brat, a nineteen-year-old female rapper from the West Side, is afraid foryou, you know the situation has got to be dire45, dahling.
When we pulled up to the property, there were more than ten security personnelstanding outside, preparing two large black SUVs to go on a search. They stopped mebefore I could get up the driveway to the garage, as if I was a fugitive46 crossing the border.
I was promptly47 whisked back into the house and back into the studio—back into mytower, my jail.
JD was visibly shaken. My spontaneous, mischievous48 little scheme had had realconsequences for him. I hadn’t brought my phone, so security had no way of contactingme. There would be hell to pay from Tommy for such sloppy49 surveillance. WhileJermaine was in the studio, concentrating on laying down the beat for the track, securityhad busted50 in and interrogated51 him, with their guns out in broad daylight. I assume theyfigured that since Jermaine was the producer, Brat was his artist, so he was in charge, hewas responsible. They yelled at him: “Where is she? Tell us where she is!” Of course, hehad no idea where we were. He was working. He was at my studio. This was the first timehe’d been at my house. He was only twenty-three years old.
After Tommy was assured of my safe return, the situation settled down. Brat rolled afat blunt, but God knows she couldn’t smoke it around me, so she just held on to itthroughout the shoot, like a security blanket, and began to work on her rap for the remix.
Her nerves were a bit of a wreck52 now too. In addition to everything else, she probably feltguilty we had caused such drama while recording her first big rap feature with me. Butwhen the mic was hot and the camera was rolling, Da Brat killed it. Her delivery washappy and hard, playing with clever references and sophisticated rhythms inside the spaceof the song:
Who rocks your Music Box
And breaks down your structure
You fantasize as you visualize53 me as your DreamloverFuck with your Emotions Unplugged in your Daydream—“Always Be My Baby (Remix)”
We got it done: a remix, a video, and a prison break all in one day. You would never knowfrom the video I directed that we were surrounded by armed security. I was a master atediting out the pressure.
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feat
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| n.功绩；武艺，技艺；adj.灵巧的，漂亮的，合适的 | |
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bastard
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| n.坏蛋，混蛋；私生子 | |
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ammunition
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| n.军火，弹药 | |
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jurisdiction
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| n.司法权，审判权，管辖权，控制权 | |
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tempo
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| n.(音乐的)速度；节奏，行进速度 | |
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determined
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| adj.坚定的；有决心的 | |
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suave
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| adj.温和的；柔和的；文雅的 | |
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recordings
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| n.记录( recording的名词复数 )；录音；录像；唱片 | |
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recording
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| n.录音，记录 | |
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intentionally
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| ad.故意地，有意地 | |
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collaboration
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| n.合作，协作；勾结 | |
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daydream
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| v.做白日梦，幻想 | |
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vocal
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| adj.直言不讳的；嗓音的；n.[pl.]声乐节目 | |
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vocals
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| （乐曲中的）歌唱部份，声乐部份( vocal的名词复数 ) | |
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brat
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| n.孩子；顽童 | |
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smoothly
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| adv.平滑地，顺利地，流利地，流畅地 | |
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palatable
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| adj.可口的，美味的；惬意的 | |
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adept
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| adj.老练的，精通的 | |
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tune
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| n.调子；和谐，协调；v.调音，调节，调整 | |
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fluffy
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| adj.有绒毛的，空洞的 | |
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glistening
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| adj.闪耀的，反光的v.湿物闪耀，闪亮( glisten的现在分词 ) | |
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grandeur
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| n.伟大，崇高，宏伟，庄严，豪华 | |
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opulence
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| n.财富，富裕 | |
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refreshing
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| adj.使精神振作的，使人清爽的，使人喜欢的 | |
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reprieve
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glossy
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| adj.平滑的；有光泽的 | |
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fully
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| adv.完全地，全部地，彻底地；充分地 | |
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irresistible
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| adj.非常诱人的，无法拒绝的，无法抗拒的 | |
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flaunted
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| v.炫耀，夸耀( flaunt的过去式和过去分词 )；有什么能耐就施展出来 | |
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desperately
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| adv.极度渴望地，绝望地，孤注一掷地 | |
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spotted
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| adj.有斑点的，斑纹的，弄污了的 | |
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mesmerized
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| v.使入迷( mesmerize的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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posturing
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| 做出某种姿势( posture的现在分词 ) | |
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payroll
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| n.工资表，在职人员名单，工薪总额 | |
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awesome
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| adj.令人惊叹的，难得吓人的，很好的 | |
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mundane
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| adj.平凡的；尘世的；宇宙的 | |
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caper
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| v.雀跃，欢蹦；n.雀跃，跳跃；续随子，刺山柑花蕾；嬉戏 | |
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pointed
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| adj.尖的，直截了当的 | |
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chirped
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| 鸟叫，虫鸣( chirp的过去式 ) | |
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convertible
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| adj.可改变的，可交换，同意义的；n.有活动摺篷的汽车 | |
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manor
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| n.庄园，领地 | |
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bugging
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| [法] 窃听 | |
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abruptly
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| adv.突然地，出其不意地 | |
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momentary
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| adj.片刻的，瞬息的；短暂的 | |
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dire
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| adj.可怕的，悲惨的，阴惨的，极端的 | |
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fugitive
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| adj.逃亡的，易逝的；n.逃犯，逃亡者 | |
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promptly
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| adv.及时地，敏捷地 | |
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mischievous
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| adj.调皮的，恶作剧的，有害的，伤人的 | |
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sloppy
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| adj.邋遢的，不整洁的 | |
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busted
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| adj. 破产了的，失败了的，被降级的，被逮捕的，被抓到的 动词bust的过去式和过去分词 | |
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51
interrogated
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| v.询问( interrogate的过去式和过去分词 )；审问；（在计算机或其他机器上）查询 | |
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wreck
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| n.失事，遇难；沉船；vt.(船等)失事，遇难 | |
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visualize
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| vt.使看得见，使具体化，想象，设想 | |
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