REVIEW
Carey fans hang on her thrill ride of highs and lows
- Jaan Uhelszki, Special to The Chronicle
Wednesday, October 4, 2006

It wasn't just Mariah Carey's dancers who were doing backflips at
Monday's sold-out show at the Arena in Oakland. By the opening number,
the diva-in-absentia had the crowd on its feet, as she time-traveled
back to some of the messier moments in her personal history.

It's not as if she didn't warn the 19,000 faithful, kicking off her
90-minute set with a short, thrill-inducing cinematic climb up a roller
coaster, with Carey narrating platitudes about her opulent soap opera
come to life.

"When I was little I was so scared of roller coasters, but you learn
you have to face your fears," she said breathlessly. "But just when I
thought the scariest part was over, something more terrifying would
happen."

Like detonating her marriage to music mogul Tommy Mottola, being
released from her recording contract, the failure of 2001's "Glitter"
album and quasi-autobiographical movie of the same name and attendant
canceled tour dates, the hospital stays and the famous glass- and
dish-throwing episode in a London hotel room, all documented in
tabloids and by Carey on her own Web site.

To the singer's continuing credit, she doesn't try to conceal any of
those tawdry details from fans, as if she could in her barely there
outfits. Instead, she used them as rather touching fodder to detail
many of the two dozen songs she performed. "How many times have I had
to apply this song to my own life?" Carey mused mid-verse during
"Hero," her self-penned 1993 song that became one of the unofficial
anthems of 9/11.

After the conclusion of the short film, the singer ascended from
beneath the stage, like a goddess rising from the depths of the ocean,
screaming over the din, "San Francisco, how ya feeling?"

Oozing down a lavish spiral staircase in her mile-high Christian
Louboutin stilettos, all jutting hips, tossed curls and purring vocals,
Carey effortlessly slid into "It's Like That," the first single from
her Grammy-winning 2005 album "The Emancipation of Mimi," opening her
show with a mighty leonine roar. It was more Victoria's Secret TV spot
than pop music show, and in the first of five costume changes, Carey
looked resplendent -- albeit a little more zaftig than in recent years
-- in a black peignoir set that revealed more than it concealed. "It
takes a lot of guts to dress like that with that body," one reveler
gushed to a friend.

While not a trained dancer by anyone's stretch of the imagination,
Carey sensuously moved in half-time down the frighteningly steep
staircase once again, stumbling on the fourth step, all the while
caressing her prodigious curves and running long, manicured fingers
through her imposing hair in time to "Heartbreaker's" disco beat. But
the stumble, like the extra weight, humanizes her even more to fans,
eliciting a small gasp among the faithful.

A wounded sex kitten, Carey coos, pouts, then goes for broke, emitting
sounds that you'd think only dolphins could utter at the close of
"Dreamlover," one of the 17 No. 1 hits that allowed her to become one
of the wealthiest stars of the 1990s.

"What do you want, Frisco?" she demanded as she plunged into "My All,"
before someone in her cadre undoubtedly gave her a geography lesson.

"I know we're in Oakland," she said a little defensively, flashing only
a little of her diva ire. "Some of my friends are here from San
Francisco, so I can say that, you know. I love me some Oakland.

"Anyway, this is one of the first places that played my first single
when I was little," cooed the 36-year old singer in appeasement, before
asking permission to take a small sip of her ever-present Fiji water, a
far from her halcyon days swilling Cristal Champagne.

The newly emancipated Carey is all business, down to the strategically
placed cutouts in her Barbie doll gowns, to the mirrored "Mimi" that
descended from the ceiling before "Shake It Off," a clever kiss-off
with the perfect intersection of high concept and low culture: "I gotta
shake it off/ Just like the Calgon commercial." All the better when you
know that nothing less than Chanel really touches her golden skin.

During the tune, Carey put on a pair of expensive hit-man sunglasses.
Why? Because of the high-wattage sign or because her future really is
so bright again she does needs shades? "The Emancipation of Mimi" has
already racked up 5 million in sales, she's taking guitar lessons, and
it looks as if there's another movie on the horizon.

Some of that momentum was lost during the chanteuse's five costume
changes. Sometimes the breaks were so long that it allowed the DJ to
romp through decades of rap and R&B tunes, such as Bell Biv DeVoe's
"Poison" and the Digital Underground's "The Humpty Dance."

In the meanwhile, longtime backup singer Trey Lorenz stepped out into
the stoplight to sing the Jackson 5's "I'll Be There," with Carey, then
to finish up alone with a rather weak and dispirited three-song medley,
culminating in an anemic version of Gnarls Barkley's "Crazy." The only
thing crazy was Carey allowing this singer so much face time.

All of that was forgiven when the singer came back for the second half
of the set, slowing the pace just a bit with "Fantasy," a song that
pairs her pop vocals with a hip-hop beat, a winning formula that the
singer has been employing since she left the controlling clutches of
her record-exec husband. She performed the song as a duet with the
disembodied video of the late rapper Ol' Dirty Bastard, which was as
disconcerting as it was affecting.

But that sentiment colored the entire night. At times, as cameras
flashed over the audience, fans could be seen with tears in their eyes,
wrapping their arms around themselves as they sang along to hits like
"Always Be My Baby" or the feisty heart-tugger "We Belong Together,"
only equaled by Carey herself, whose immaculate made-up eyes welled up
with tears during the latter song.

But that is the true gift of this singer. While Jennifer Lopez may
claim to be Jenny From the Block, Carey shows that she still lives
there, even if she gets there in a chauffeur-driven roller coaster.

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