Every Mariah Carey Album, Ranked From Worst to Best (Part 2)

Breaking down some of the most intriguing work of her career.

In this post, I continue my discography ranking for all of Mariah Carey’s studio albums (i.e., no “best of” compilations or live records). Lots of great music to get to, so I won’t belabor this intro longer than I have to. Before I begin, some quick links for you:

• Check out my other discography ranking posts for lots of other deep dives into some of the most famous discographies in pop and rock history.

• For all the Mariah Carey albums you may have missed so far, click over to Part 1 of this series.

• If you enjoy great music and don’t have the time or patience to fish around for your next favorite record, consider subscribing to this newsletter for fresh music picks every week.

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Housekeeping over. Let’s get to some music:

10. Rainbow (1999)

Of all the records in this discography ranking, Rainbow may be the most confusing. It’s not a miss, exactly—there’s at least one or two dynamite singles on this album. But that also doesn’t make it a thoroughly engaging listening experience, either. More than any of her other 90s releases, this is the moment when the execution started to feel more like a factory-standard output than a singular, distinctive artistic vision. Let’s classify the vibes as “overly familiar.”

The best aspect of Rainbow is how unabashedly she leans into her growing hip-hop influences, an instinct that played especially well during the genre’s turn-of-the-century transition phase. Lead single “Heartbreaker,” by far and away my favorite bop off this album, fuses her effortless charm with an equally breezy Stacy Lattisaw sample to disarming effect. The remix, featuring killer verses from Da Brat and Missy Elliott, is even better than the original and was a staple of my DJ sets for many years. In a similar sonic vein is “Crybaby,” a fun, underheard Snoop Dogg collab that does after-midnight soul-searching better than many of her ballads.

Which leads me to the LP’s weakness, which is the overdose of by-the-numbers Big Ballad energy. She could (and likely still can) churn out soaring, stadium-ready love songs like nobody’s business by that point, but you hear some of these cuts and wish they were at least a little more inspired. “After Tonight” and “Thank God I Found You” are to Mariah’s catalog of ballads what Casino is to Martin Scorsese’s stable of mob movies. The craftsmanship remains, but the death-by-comparison trap looms around every track transition. She’d already made her version of Goodfellas, and, by that measuring stick, this album suffers.

Ultimately, Rainbow is too invested in straddling the line between the old and the new, lacking punch and cohesiveness, despite some standout flashes of brilliance.

9. E=MC² (2008)

Before I get to the album, I need to discuss the “Touch My Body” video.

Back in the day, it was on Canada’s MTV equivalent (shout out to all those who remember MuchMusic) all the time. It literally got to the point where part of my brain thought poor Jack McBrayer would never recover from this shameful act of public humiliation. Here he is, following Mariah Carey around her mansion as she struts from room to room in various skin-tight fits, never getting anywhere close to realizing his fantasy. They even have a pillow fight. Nothing. It was basically rubbing it in my and every other average male’s face.

Anyway … the album. Much like Rainbow, it’s fine. Nothing cringeworthy or embarrassing, but nothing spectacular. If nothing else, it sounds a bit tighter and more cohesive than that comparable, but it was a different time in Mariah’s pop star trajectory, too. She was coming off a career-saving (and possibly career-defining?) effort and, as a result, E=MC² plays like a victory lap—polished, confident, and definitely calculated. If you’re like me and have a soft spot for the strain of uber-airbrushed pop-R&B that dominated radio countdown shows in the late 2000s, you’ll dig a lot of what’s on this tracklist.

Beyond “Touch My Body,” which still stands up as a winking earworm, songs like “I’ll Be Lovin’ U Long Time” and “Bye Bye” are examples of how adept Mariah’s voice is at cruising over this kind of sleek production style. Elsewhere, “Thanx 4 Nothin’” is a definite throwback to her Daydream days, while “Side Effects” is the record’s lone curveball, a raw, edgy trap gem that’s a welcome changeup from everything else this album has going for it. And yet, having said all of that, there’s part of me that believes you could put any number of era-specific pop stars behind the mic for some of these songs and they’d sound pretty similar. That’s not a dig at Mariah, simply an admission that there’s not a ton of transcendent material present.

File this one under: If it ain’t broke, run it back again (and again and again).

8. Me. I Am Mariah... The Elusive Chanteuse (2014)

First, the title: Me. I Am Mariah… The Elusive Chanteuse. It sounds like a ridiculous self-help memoir—an outcome that the singer thankfully avoided when she penned her actual memoir, which is incredibly vulnerable and frequently harrowing. I bring up that dichotomy because, while the words on the album jacket suggest one vibe, the actual music is pretty far removed from that absurdist framing. Strikingly, it’s one of her quietest and most affecting releases.

A major reason why is how reflective she is throughout this record. Then-husband Nick Cannon confirmed that her writing process was inspired by her early-90s debut and sophomore records, as well as the upcoming birth of her twins. She was taking the time to look back on her life and career with wistfulness, pride, and, subtly, tinges of regret. Songs like “Dedicated” and “Make It Look Good” meld supple soul samples and slick production to deliver two of her best late-career pop-R&B moments, with the former weaving in a spoken-word portion that drops us into the middle of a front porch nostalgia session. Elsewhere, “You Don’t Know What to Do” is pure roller-disco euphoria, the kind of track that reminds you Mariah can still own the dancefloor when she feels like it.

The standout track on this LP is its lead single, “#Beautiful,” a sweet and sunny collaboration with Miguel. What I love about this song is how much restraint Mariah shows. She’s not forcing it or hitting you over the head with showy vocals. Yes, she gets a couple of moments to let her singing really soar, but by dialing it back a few notches when it comes to the performativity, you’re left with something that sounds far more authentic and luminous than much of her other post-90s output. The elusive chanteuse may not have revealed her entire self, but the version we get on I Am Mariah is wonderfully layered. All that’s missing is a “Fantasy”-level pop hit, and this easily would’ve been a Top 5 candidate.

7. Glitter (2001)

Alright folks, let’s do it. Let’s have the Glitter conversation.

Those old enough to remember the movie’s rollout can back me up on this, but its cinematic debut was an unmitigated disaster. Critics were particularly harsh, using terms like “sugary,” “over-produced,” “a derivative mishmash,” “hilariously inept,” and “heroically bad.” Not a surprising end product, considering how troubled the production was, with a half-dozen script rewrites, multiple reshoots, and delay after delay on the release calendar. I covered how the fallout affected Mariah personally in Part 1, but suffice to say, the press junket was just as weird as the film itself. Thankfully, in the years since, it has been reappraised as a cult classic and gained popularity as a midnight show darling. It’s not a good movie—not by a long shot—but it can still be a fun watch if you meet it on its level.

The soundtrack, on the other hand, is a bop. It’s simple and direct, hitting you with one delectible disco-funk-inspired jam after another. There’s “Loverboy,” with that Cameo bassline that should be sampled far more frequently than it is. “Don’t Stop (Funkin’ 4 Jamaica)” and “Last Night a DJ Saved My Life” are party tunes that tell you what you’re going to get based on the title alone. There’s also an above-average Mariah ballad (”Lead the Way”) and a dynamite mid-80s pop cover (”Didn’t Mean to Turn You On”) available for your listening pleasure. After a fresh listen, I was left with a lingering question: Why all the hate? Why was this perfectly entertaining album positioned as a career killer?

Perhaps the real answer lies in the timing and optics. If your movie is released in the wake of 9/11, it certainly won’t help your cause, nor will an early-2000s tabloid media salivate at the opportunity to tear another pop icon down. In retrospect, it’s clear there was too much hate heaped on this record, especially during a pop music era that wasn’t exactly known for its risk-taking or inclusivity. If Glitter were released today, it would be a much bigger deal than it was back then—or, at least, for far more positive reasons.

Historically, a notable comparable would be Xanadu, Olivia Newton-John’s 1980 ill-fated roller disco musical. Both movies tanked at the box office and earned their share of jeers from the critical community. However, the soundtrack is rock-solid, with several tracks that have been given new life as part of nostalgia playlists and yacht rock documentaries. I think Glitter should benefit from the same treatment. It’s slowly being recognized as what it always was: a joyful, if uneven, party record. It’s not musically or thematically profound work, but it doesn’t have to be. Sometimes, the disco ball spins for no reason other than the joyousness of the occasion.

6. Mariah Carey (1990)

Imagine you’re a young pop star. Raw, talented, but still requiring a lot of polish. You’re discovered almost by accident by a record executive who later brings you over to a major label and begins plotting your rise to superstardom. He wants you to make a splash big enough to rival the established divas of the day—think Whitney Houston, Gloria Estefan, and Madonna. And then, amid all that pressure and hype, imagine your first single is “Vision of Love,” one of the most impressive and influential vocal performances in pop music history.

That is how you make an entrance.

What’s wild about Mariah Carey’s self-titled 1990 debut album is how fully-formed she sounded right out of the gate. She’s evolved stylistically and matured vocally in the years following its release, but the pose, control, and range she had from the beginning are nothing short of astonishing. A word like “iconic” gets thrown around too liberally these days, but that’s exactly the right term to describe “Vision of Love.” It’s such a moving song that’s structured so well, you could make the argument that she’s been chasing that level of near-perfection ever since. “Hero” and “One Sweet Day” are just two examples of Mariah basically covering herself, at least in spirit, and kinda sorta falling short. Again, not a knock on those tracks, but a testament to how incredible “Vision of Love” is.

Then, what’s even wilder is that she followed up that single with three more No. 1 hits in the US. In order, those standouts are the breathy “Love Takes Time,” the New Jack Swing bop “Someday,” and the Latin-inflected “I Don’t Wanna Cry.” Throw in the slow jam gem that is “Vanishing,” and you’ve got a half-dozen highlights worthy of any Mariah best-of listening rabbit hole. The biggest factor keeping this album out of the Top 5 is a relatively weak second half. You can hear her trying to find her footing in a few of those back-nine moments, which is to be expected. She was only getting started.

But, in the pantheon of pop music debuts, Mariah Carey ranks up there with all-time greats.

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Any of these albums over- or under-hyped? Sound off in the comments.