Yesterday, Jezebel brought to our attention something of great importance: The new Mariah Carey music video. This video for "Up Out My Face," Carey's first single off Angel's Advocate--the companion remix album to last year's Memoirs of an Imperfect Angel--substantiates the claim that Carey had a "genius breakthrough" when creating Angel: clunky lyrics, overcooked production and non-singing are its hallmarks. But all of us who scratch our heads and wonder, "Why is crap like this getting funded and then turning a profit?" need look no further than the video for "Face." The video proves that Carey really no longer cares what we think. She's found a demographic that will buy her wares, instead of casting her off into the same ghetto where pop peers like Madonna, Whitney Houston and Paula Abdul have taken up residence.

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Last November, Carey sat down with The Times UK and proved that for all her palaver of Bacardi and butterflies, she's a shark-like businesswoman:

The more you see her at work, the more you realize that Carey has grasped not just how her industry must move from a recorded-music business model to a brand-based model, but also that she is the best person to do it. Ask what her “brand” is, and she replies as well as any Madison Avenue advertising executive: “Optimistic, accessible, universal.” It’s true. Her music is the kind of upbeat, bubblegum pop that appeals as much to teenagers in Tokyo as in Tooting. “It’s R&B but not too R&B. It’s poppy but not too poppy. Hardcore but not too hardcore,” she says. She dresses trendy “but not too trendy. I never want people to think I just wear ‘this’ or ‘that’ designer and that they cannot afford my stuff.” Her team work remorselessly to make sure fans get what they want. “We try very hard to answer everything we get sent,” says Carey. “We mustn’t get remote or ever give people the chance to think I think I’m better than them.”

This video for "Up Out My Face" is proof of Carey's tightrope-walking. It's her ultimate branding strategy. She's not angling for those of us who grew up listening to her wail, "Fantasy" or "Honey." She's eyeing the cache of kids who need their own anthems. Pop songs like "Fantasy" no longer have a place in the Top 40 marketplace. Carey, for all her spaciness, is shrewdly aware of this. In fact, "shrewdly aware" is the best way to describe this video which counts among its selling points:
• A turn by rapstress Nicki Minaj--unknown to those of us whose hip-hop knowledge may extend only to Jay-Z or T.I.--but a fixture on the scene since 2007. This is clearly what we'd term her "big break." • Slutty wardrobe • "Girly" motifs like butterflies, dolls, cosmetics • Champagne • A cloyingly sweet, Valentine's Day-friendly color scheme • Nick Cannon
We can be sure that when she was laying down tracks with Tricky Stewart, she was well aware that lines like "When I break I break I break / Not even a nail technician with a whole lot of gel and acrylic can fix this" and "Might see me on a poster / See me at a show / But you won’t see me for free / Boy this ain’t no promo" were patently stupid. Curiously though, for a pop star who has become so cynical, Carey is still having fun--or at least selling the image of having fun. She recognizes that as being fundamental to the package. Madonna, take note.

But Carey realizes that as a pop star in her "advanced years," she needs to move units. Fast. And nothing moves units as fast as appealing to tween-aged Twitterers and the lowest-common denominator. Her music these days needs to be instantly infectious or else she'll risk another flop on the scale of Glitter. No longer can she afford the kind of subtlety that made "Dreamlover" such a timeless classic.

Is there a Mercury prize-winning song inside of Carey? Definitely. Will we see it? Not unless a good song-writing is the next fad to make waves through pop. Until then, revel in the fact that for all the horrible mixed metaphors in this tune, she at least mixes it up with a marching band at the end of her music video.