I got an offer to do a demo session for a group called Maggie’s Dream. When I got to the gig I was told I would be singing for a male vocalist. In walked this sexy, serene, toasted-almond-colored artsy young man—he just looked like the definition of an artist. His thick, dark hair was just in the beginning phases of dreadlocks. He had a perfect five o’clock shadow, with a thick stripe of goatee down the center of his chin. He was dressed rock star casual: heavy black leather vintage motorcycle jacket, black jeans, black T-shirt. He had a thin ring in his nose and smelled how I imagined ancient Egyptian oils would smell. His face was kind and fine, with a boyish smile. He went by the name of Romeo Blue. His friends called him Lenny. And about a year later, the world would know him as Lenny Kravitz.
Maggie’s Dream had a drummer named Tony, who was also the drummer for the band of a singer named Brenda K. Starr. Brenda had a big R & B pop hit out called “I Still Believe,” which the record company was looking to rework. There was an opening for background singers, and Tony got me a slot at the audition. I was excited because Brenda had a big song on the radio—and you know how much I loved the radio. At the audition, we were asked to sing Brenda’s song right in front of the table where she sat. I gave it my all.
I sang for my life. I did all kinds of runs and belted out the last note. When I was finished, I stood perfectly still, returning back to Earth, heart on fire. Brenda gave me a long, flat stare, then suddenly broke into a mischievous little giggle. In her clipped, nasally accent, she said, “You trying to steal my job?” I didn’t move. But her giggle turned into hearty laughter. I didn’t realize you weren’t supposed to outsing the singer who could hire you!
“Mariah is my new best friend,” she said, breaking my trance. Wait. She knew my name! I couldn’t believe someone who had a major song on the radio now knew my name. Immediately after the audition, Brenda had to fly somewhere to perform, but as soon as she returned, I was hired. She kept saying, “I told everybody about this girl Mariah!”
Brenda was a spicy mix, in the true meaning of the word. She grew up in the projects on Ninetieth and Amsterdam Avenue, and the culture of the projects grew in her. She told me her mother was Puerto Rican and Hawaiian and her father, Harvey Kaplan, was Jewish and in a band called the Spiral Starecase. They had a hit song: “More Today Than Yesterday.” Brenda was a bit older and more street savvy than I was and had an effortless and silly sense of humor. It was easy to become friends.
My life as a professional singer was moving swiftly, but at the same time, I was still a teenager. One time I was hanging out with the guys from Maggie’s Dream, and one of them started teasing me because I was a virgin. (Apparently, Clarissa had told them I was.) Everybody was laughing, but I didn’t get why it was funny. I was a kid. I was always the youngest and clearly the most idealistic, so I had to suffer through some of the more crass amusements of adult musicians.
I may have been young and naïve, but Brenda knew my songs were good, and wise beyond their years. When I let her listen to my demo, she said, “Oooh, Mariah, I wanna do this on my next album.” She currently had a song that was still in active rotation on the radio, and every time we were together and I heard it play, it was mind blowing. I couldn’t believe I was working with her and she was my friend, not to mention that she had given me my biggest gig to date.
Yet I said, “I know I don’t have anything big going on yet, but I’m sorry, I have to keep these songs. These songs are the ones I wrote for me.”
I may have been insecure about my money, my clothes, my family, and a whole host of other things, but I knew my songs were valuable. I was really excited to finally be in the company of young and some struggling current musicians and artists, but the truth was that I had always believed this would happen to me. Brenda never pushed me to use my songs after that.
Singing background with Brenda while she toured with her big song was big fun. Once, we went to Los Angeles to appear at a popular radio station’s concert. It was the first time I’d ever been to LA and one of the few times I’d ever set foot on a plane. Now, I was boarding a plane as a professional singer, going to do a big outdoor radio-sponsored concert in LA! To me, being on the radio was being famous. For the show, Brenda was set to sing “I Still Believe,” with me as one of the background vocalists. Will Smith was there too, to perform “Parents Just Don’t Understand.”
Jeffrey Osborne (from the group L.T.D.) was also there; he did “You Should Be Mine (The Woo Woo Song)” as part of his set. I was in the audience, watching. Jeffrey, the veteran among us, began singing the chorus to his song with his seasoned, smooth voice: “And you
