Because Mariah Carey seems to remain consistent in terms of her presence in the public eye, it’s easy for some to forget that, despite her relative ubiquitousness (especially once Christmas rolls around), she hasn’t released a new album since 2018 (namely, Caution). As such, she hasn’t provided fans with a solo single since 2019 (mainly “A No No,” unless one wants to count “In the Mix”). Thus, the announcement of “Type Dangerous,” along with the promise of a new album at the end of the year, has been one of the many “big deals” of the music industry (along with, apparently, Sabrina Carpenter’s Man’s Best Friend album cover) in 2025.
Carey’s decision to wait so long to release new music is likely twofold. For one, she was fine-tuning a multi-record deal with Gamma. For another, like many pop stars “of her age,” she’s become more measured with the music she chooses to put out, fearful that an album might not “land.” And when it doesn’t land for pop stars “of a certain age,” it tends to mean the public is ready to have their claws out all the more to help put the final nail in the proverbial coffin of her career. Regardless of whether or not that pop star theoretically has an “untouchable” legacy. But as Mariah and those like her know, you’re only as good/respected as your last hit.
With “Type Dangerous,” MC hedged her bets on having a bop by sampling the beat (and select vocals) from Eric B. & Rakim’s “Eric B. Is President,” from their 1987 debut, Paid in Full. And it isn’t lost on those in the know that, like Mariah herself, Eric B. & Rakim originated from Long Island. Of course, the diva persona that Carey has cultivated by now isn’t too interested in calling attention to that place as her hometown, preferring to leave such “hometown pride” instead to someone like Lindsay Lohan.
And, talking of Carey’s diva “persona” (read: actual personality), it’s all over “Type Dangerous” from the instant she kicks off the track with the verse, “I came in the door, dripped in Balenci’/Cropped leather coat and some nine-inch Fendis.” This latter phrase causing immediate dissection when Carey appeared on The Ellen K Morning Show and was asked if such a thing really exists (‘cause who knows, maybe it could—even if only for celebrities). To which Carey shrugged, “I don’t think they do… We were just hoping, ‘Okay, maybe they’ll realize that some people would like them and they will start to make them.’” It’s the sort of “iconic” Mariah response that fans have come to expect from her. Though what they’ve expected less and less in the decades since Butterfly came out are songs that “paint a picture.”
However, with “Type Dangerous,” Carey returns not only to the hip hop-infused sound that reignited her career on 2005’s The Emancipation of Mimi (the anniversary of which she’s been pushing heavily this year), but also to “depiction” verses. Case in point, “The crowd opened up and I started to strut/I need my space, but I’m signing autographs and such/Hit the little girls’ room to powder my nose/Then came in three hatin’ ass hoes/They don’t know the meaning of water nor soap/I don’t have time for the rigamarole/Taking off my coat, clearing my throat/Certified diamonds like the songs I wrote/Look at my wrist, check out the light show/Can you handle this?/I don’t know/You can meet me up at the pent’/Knock ‘em out the box with a chocolate kiss/Hope I ain’t sayin’ too much/I like ’em dangerous.”
Historically, though, the only type of “danger” Mariah has ostensibly “enjoyed” is being in relationships with stifling, oppressive men, albeit rich and powerful ones (arguably the most dangerous kind of man, contrary to the stereotype of the leather-jacketed, motorcycle-riding “bad boy” fitting that bill instead). This refers, most glaringly, to Tommy Mottola, to whom Carey was married from 1993 to 1998. And yes, in her memoir, The Meaning of Mariah Carey, she mentions the fact that she used to call the house she lived in with Mottola “Sing Sing,” a nod to the infamous New York prison. Although the marriage ended twenty-seven years ago and the memoir mentioning the nickname came out five years ago, Carey still seems to have plenty of shade left to go around for that marriage and abode by saying, “Fresh outta Sing Sing, nah, I’m just playin’/That was just a castle and an evil king/Made my escape, yes, I had to flee/Now it’s sex in the city and a couple little flings.” Despite this line, Carey is less known for flings and more known for her long-term relationships, which included, most recently, Bryan Tanaka, a former backup dancer of hers (tale as old as time with pop star romances), that helped spur her split from then fiancé James Packer.
Tellingly, Packer isn’t alluded to in any of the lyrics that offer callbacks to Mariah’s romantic past, whether real or fictional. In “Type Dangerous,” it’s mostly the fictional romances of MC’s previous music videos that get dredged up for inspiration (in contrast to Ariana Grande wielding only real-life relationships for the lyrics of “thank u, next”). For example, “Motorcycle man had a yen for me/Liked to rush through the tunnel at a breakneck speed/Computer boy toy [how unlike Mariah to use such a Madonna-patented phrase], he was fun for a while/‘Til I caught him on the web hacking other girls’ files/You know the guy say he worked construction/Turns out he was movin’ them pounds through customs/They wanna settle down but I just don’t trust ‘em/They wanna lock me down, but there’s no handcuffin’/Said we’d be together, but you didn’t stay forever/Now I guess it’s just whatever ‘til the twelfth of never.” As for the number twelve being bandied, some have speculated it has to be shade toward the only other man Carey married, Nick Cannon, father of twelve.
With regard to Carey’s insistence, “I’ve never been afraid of love/That’s why I like ‘em dangerous,” it must once more be reiterated that what she really means by “danger” is a toxic fuckboy who’s only going to disappoint her in the end. But it’s the kind of disappointment she takes in stride, as evidenced by the “Type Dangerous” video, directed by Joseph Kahn (who previously worked with Carey on 2002’s “Boy [I Need You]), “#Beautiful” and “All I Want for Christmas Is You [Make My Wish Come True Edition]”) . Divided into seven “acts” that are separated not by plot, but rather, by “types” (of men, obviously), all of the ones shown are theoretically “dangerous.” This includes “Mr. Player,” “Mr. Dancer,” “Mr. Traitor,” “Mr. Racer” and “Mr. Dealer.”
Act 6 then shifts to “Ms. Danger,” presenting Carey as that very “miss” while she lies at the center of the numerous men who she felled despite their supposed toughness. And in this scene, there’s a second instance of animation that, again, allows a comparison to be drawn to Madonna (like the “boy toy” lyric), who had a prominent animation sequence in the 2000 video for “Music.” But, of course, Carey would never admit to any kind of Madonna influence (having shaded her so thoroughly in life and in her memoir), “intentional” or otherwise. Nor would she ever admit to “knowing” J. Lo (who takes far more of a hit in the Mariah memoir than Madonna), the entertainer now perhaps best known for spawning the Mariah aphorism, “I don’t know her” (on a side note, though MC definitely wouldn’t like it called out, there is a certain J. Lo quality to the sound of the production on “Type Dangerous” [then again, everyone knows that J. Lo “borrowed” from Mariah]).
This quintessential Carey phrase is riffed on for Act 7, “Mr. Beast.” As in the YouTuber with the most subscribers. Not exactly something Carey would be impressed by, as is conveyed when he enters the frame to attempt wooing her, prompting her delivery of the line, “I don’t know him.” This sends MrBeast into oblivion as he spontaneously explodes like all the other men that couldn’t “get on Carey’s level.” Except that, in MrBeast’s case, his explosion leaves behind a barrage of denominationally-varied bills. Perhaps a flex on his part to remind viewers that, while Carey might not “know him,” he’s still a very rich man thanks to all his various business ventures.
As the camera pans out briefly during this final scene, the viewer can see that Carey has her own business venture—“Bianca Industries” (named after her alter ego, naturally)—too. Indeed, she’s standing on top of the very building that houses it as a slew of other men fall at her feet. Proving, perhaps, that the only dangerous type in this scenario is her. As played up via the very “Toxic” by Britney-reminiscent visuals. Complete with Carey tooling around a futuristic backdrop on a motorcycle and generally acting like a secret agent (just like Brit in “Toxic,” which is also directed by Kahn, and remains one of his most well-known works).
As for Carey’s dichotomous messaging in the visuals (which, on the one hand, wants to present these men as “dangerous,” but, on the other, presents her as the real danger), that contradiction can also be found in the lyrics, which conclude, “Oh yes, I want someone to step to me/Oh, yes, I want someone to rescue me.” Even though it’s quite clear that Carey can rescue herself, and is in no need of a “white knight” (or any other color one). And yet, here she is dating her co-writer on the song, Anderson .Paak. A man who has undoubtedly secured some favor with MC for a while considering that “Type Dangerous” is her biggest single of the past decade.
So maybe it only lends credence to her belief in the fairy tale construct that she’s been “rescued.” Or at least her career outside of Christmas has been. But, considering that Carey likes a Sex and the City mention, it bears repeating the Carrie (not Carey) adage, “Charlotte, honey, did you ever think that maybe we’re the white knights, and we’re the ones that have to save ourselves?” Since it would appear that Mariah is a Charlotte vis-à-vis that question, it’s likely that she, too, would also respond to Carrie with, “That is so depressing.” Depressing (a.k.a. realistic), but true…as Carey will probably find out anew after getting burned by the latest dangerous type in her love life. Until, that is, the burner is made to understand the full effects of her power…and the power of a woman scorned in general.
