L.A. had always loved what I did with Jermaine on “Always Be My Baby.” Even though there were already some very good songs for this album, and I had already worked with a bunch of incredible people, including the Neptunes, Kanye, Snoop, Twista, and Nelly, L.A. was inspired to bring the dream team of me and JD back together to see what our next level would be. I was like, “Let’s do it!” I called up Jermaine and said, “Let’s get to work.” We sat there on the floor at Southside Studios, Jermaine’s awesome creative oasis, and within a couple weeks we had written “Shake It Off” and “Get Your Number.” In a second session at Southside, we made “We Belong Together,” “It’s Like That,” and then, eventually, “Don’t Forget About Us,” which was on the platinum rerelease of that album.
For the first time in a long time, I had real vocal rest (something of which Luther Vandross had taught me the critical importance), clarity, and a deep sense of creative control. I initially started writing in the Bahamas and laid down some vocals there; the ocean air and the warm, moist atmosphere were very good for my voice. They were also good for my songwriting. Jimmy Jam and Terry Lewis had previously introduced me to the brilliant musician “Big Jim” Wright, an extremely talented and very special person in my life. At one point, Jim and I were at a house in the Bahamas, doing a writing session. I wanted to have a song that had a seventies live-band vibe; I imagined something Natalie Cole or even Aretha would have done back in the day. Being that Big Jim was a consummate musician, he and I almost effortlessly wrote “Circles.” After the session, as he was about to leave—and just as I had written “Hero” on a walk to the bathroom—suddenly a melody washed through my mind as I was walking upstairs.
I came back down very quickly.
“Wait! Wait. Before you leave, I have this idea,” I said to Jim. “Fly like a bird / take to the sky,” I sang. I knew this song was going to be something meaningful. I begged him not to leave yet. “Can we write this?” I asked. He loved the idea and stayed put. We laid out the music together, and then I wrote these words:
Somehow I know that
There’s a place up above
With no more hurt and struggling
Free of all atrocities and suffering
Because I feel the unconditional love
From one who cares enough for me
To erase all my burdens and let me be free to fly like a bird
Take to the sky
I need you now Lord
Carry me high
Don’t let the world break me tonight
I need the strength of you by my side
Sometimes this life can be so cold
I pray you’ll come and carry me home
—“Fly Like a Bird”
Big Jim laid down sublime live instrumentation in New York. Later, in the Capri studio, I recorded the vocals. I stayed secluded in the studio for two days working on the backgrounds; I was lost in a song that would eventually be one that would often help me find my way out of the shadows. I worked through the night, so it was dawn when the song was ready for me to listen to all put together. I opened up the big sliding glass doors of the studio, stepped out into the morning air, and looked at the majestic cliffs jutting out of the sapphire sea as the song came pouring out of the booming speakers. The sun was rising as the background vocals were peaking: “Carry me higher! Higher!” I closed my eyes, knowing God had laid His hand on the song and on me.
Later I brought Bishop Keaton in to the studio to anoint “Fly Like a Bird” with a reading of Psalm 30:5: “Weeping may endure for a night, but joy cometh in the morning.” Those words were a reflection of all that I had survived. That passage in the Bible really meant something to me. The song is really about how messed up the world is—“Sometimes this life can be so cold / I pray you’ll come and carry me home.” It’s about both difficulty and strength: I can’t handle this life alone, but the Lord will help me through it. I’m so grateful to have memorialized Bishop forever with one of my songs that’s most important to me.
I give a lot of credit to L.A. Reid, who by then had become a friend, for the success of Mimi. He and Universal still believed in me. My album Butterfly was an emotional awakening. Mimi was a spiritual evolution; there’s a lot of my true heart and raw emotion in it. And there are so many good moments. For instance, not everybody knows how much I really love “Your Girl” (it should have been a single). It’s innocent, yet still a bit grimy. I first heard Scram Jones’s beat while in N.O.R.E.’s studio drinking something out of a Styrofoam cup (I know it’s bad for our ecosystem, but that’s all they had). There was a little more confidence and a lot more liberation in it: “I’m gonna make you want to / Get with me tonight.” And there’s a little talking part in the middle of the song “I Wish You Knew,” which was inspired by Ms. Diana Ross. There are so many intimate, special, inside, almost intangible details that are specific to me on that album. You can actually feel my authentic emotions; there are no dramatic, overproduced ballads to appease label executives. This was pared down, simple, real shit. I think that’s why it resonated with so many people.
It was on Emancipation where I first started working with
