The Jackson 5 Discography
important work in color
1969: Diana Ross Presents the Jackson 5. 1970: ABC * Third Album. 1971: Greatest Hits * Maybe Tomorrow. 1972: Looking Through the Windows. 1973: Skywriter * Get it Together. 1974: Dancing Machine. 1975: Moving Violations. 1976: Anthology * The Jacksons * Joyful Jukebox Music. 1977: Goin’ Places. 1978: Destiny. 1980: Triumph. 1981: The Jackson’s Live. 1984: Victory. 1989: 2300 Jackson Street. 1995: Soulsation (82 track, box set) * The Ultimate Collection.
Michael Jackson Discography
1972: Got to Be There * Ben. 1975: The Best of Michael Jackson. 1976: Anthology. 1979: Off the Wall. 1981: The Best of Michael Jackson. 1982: Thriller. 1986: Anthology. 1987: Bad. 1991: Dangerous. 1995: History: Past, Present and Future, Book 1. 1997: Blood on the Dance Floor. 2001: Invincable.
INVINCIBLE?
I am the King of Critics, and though you might not agree with everything I have to say about Michael Jackson’s new album, Invincible - that’s okay, because it doesn’t matter what you think since I am the King of Critics.
First I should mention that my sponsor requires that if I write anything about Michael Jackson on this popular pop music website, I must stipulate that "Michael Jackson is not the King of Pop." I mention this because I am an above-board journalist. So I say it: Michael Jackson is not the King of Pop.
Some thoughts regarding the King of Pop thing: Madonna has a greatest hits package out right now and she is being sold as "the most significant singer of our time." Given Jackson’s lead, couldn’t she buy the rights to the slogan "The Queen of Significance"? And doesn’t this lead down the slippery slope to Elton John’s "The Princess of Wigs," or Prince’s "The King of Symbols." Won’t this ultimately demystify the significance of being the King or Queen of something anyway? If everybody’s a King or Queen of something – who wants to be one? The fewer of us, the better.
Other questions about the King of Pop thing: Is Michael the "King of Pop" forever or does the fact that his last few albums constituted a downward spiral mean that somebody was the King of Pop during that time? Only Rolling Stone magazine found good things to say about Blood on the Dance Floor, for instance, and Alice Cooper has composed better melodies lately. (Is Alice Cooper the king of something already? And can you be the King of two things? Maybe it should be a yearly renewable thing? Like the Nobel Prize?)
Last question (I have more – but you know how limited cyberspace is, and the editor does keep track): If Invincible is truly a work composed by the King of Pop, aren’t we more impressed by the music made by the King of Batavia? And can we suggest that Elvis, being named simply "The King," already had the title? Perhaps that was what people meant all the time anyway and they just hadn't thought it through?
I only ask because there isn’t a single song that matters on Michael Jackson’s newest album. Here are the writers of "Michael Jackson’s" Invincible: Teddy Riley, Tyrese Gibson, J. Henson, Babyface, Carole Bayer Sager, John McClain, LaShawn Daniels, Bernard Bell, Richard Carlton Stites, Reed Vertelney, R. Kelly, Gil Cang, J. Quay, Geoffrey Williams, Nora Payne, Robert Smith, Mischke, Norman Gregg, Dr. Freeze, Andreao Heard, Nate Smith, Teron Beal, E. Laues, K. Quiller, Andre Harris, Marsha Ambrosius, Rodney Jerkins, Fred Jerkins III, Grandpa and Grandma Jerkins, Uncle "Joe" Jerkins.
The "Kings of Pop," maybe?" Or just the King's horses and King's men trying to put Michael together again?
Invincible has an almost minimalist veneer: Drums, Keyboard bass (and regular bass), occasional guitar, key/synth flourishes. Michael’s voice is often lost in the mix. Sometimes his vocal is so compressed, the compression supercharges a host of grunts, groans, hisses and burps that surpass the prowess of his vocals. That Jackson spent so much time perfecting the grunt and hiss aspects hints at the problems with locating the soul on this album. Jackson tries to get scary on "Threatened" a la "Thriller." He tries to get freaky and over-amped on "2000 Watts" but the metaphor is written badly, and the music adds sound effects instead of intense ensemble playing. In fact, ensemble playing has no showcase here: "Heartbreaker," "Invincible," "Privacy," "You Rock My World" ("all instruments by Michael Jackson and Rodney Jerkins"), are all contrived and clattering studio arrangements with no heart or soul. The best dance groove is probably "Unbreakable" with it’s syncopated piano back-step, and it comes closest to the "drone zone" but it’s easy not to like it simply because the rest of the album is such a stone bore.
The slow tunes are better – "Don’t Walk Away," "Speechless," "Cry" (though if U2 had written "Cry" we would call it sanctimonious), "The Lost Children" (though if Barry Manilow had written it we would call it unbearable), "Whatever Happens" (though if Carlos Santana had written it we would call it a concession to the pop market).
According to "informed" and "reliable" sources, Michael Jackson released only one great album in his career, yet few people comment on the absolutely power-mad arrogance of his buying the title to "The King of Pop." Inevitably, the co-option has proven self-destructive: With Invincible, Jackson seems to have unleashed a mythical karmic force that has turned all efforts to mush.
ZIP-A-DEE-DOO-DA
It’s been said that the Jackson 5 were a hell of a lot better that the Osmonds and the Cowsills and the Partridge Family; but did somebody listen to find out? Not me. The Osmonds and the Partridge Family scare me with the treacle. The Cowsills - I liked a song or two - but I've never had the time. In fact, I confess that it took awhile to get around to the Jackson 5. I'd heard the hits - they were okay - but the career was puzzling, and kids singing "grown-up music" seemed an acquired taste.
Motown released three Jackson 5 albums in a two year time span (the debut was released in December, 1969), then put out a hits package and two more studio albums before 1972 was over. The Jacksons' Anthology was released when the Jacksons’ recording history spanned a mere six years. The 82 track Soulsation (1995) had to be one of the most pointless boxed sets ever released. They couldn't be that good. Or could they?
Grappling with the pop art found on early Jackson 5 albums leads down unusual roads. You have to embrace a certain amount of absurdity. There is good absurdity and bad absurdity, just like there is good cuteness and bad cuteness. An example of good absurdity/cuteness: Michael Jackson exclaiming on "2,4,6, 8" (from ABC), "I may be a little fella, but my heart is big as Texas; I have all the love a man can give, and maybe a little extra." An example of bad absurdity/cuteness: Jermaine or Randy or one of the other fellas (Motown credit sheets are legendarily BLANK), along with Michael, singing the sentimental "I Found that Girl" (same album). The song's plot is a remembrance by the boys of how their Mom sat them on her knee and explained what kind of girl they should hold out for, and now the boys are reporting back, saying they "found that girl."
The arrangements on the first three Jackson 5 albums (Presents, ABC and Third Album) can be characterized as baroque Motown. With the Temptations, Norman Whitfield, perhaps the blues-iest of the Motown arrangers, harnessed Motown orchestration into lean, hook-ridden explosions that were unleashed when the voices were quiet, and deftly left room for vocals and the rhythm section elsewhere. Smokey Robinson and Stevie Wonder, for the most part, used Motown's unique instrumentation in a more traditional back-up/augmenting role, sublimated to conceptual pop-vocal clarity and meaning. With the Jackson 5, Hal Davis and the "The Corporation" had a kitchen-sink approach. You get the thick, sonorously intoxicating embellishments of "One More Chance," "ABC," "2-4-6-8," "Don't Know Why I Love You So," "I'll Be There" and "Reach In;" and you get the cluttered, over-playing of tunes like "Darling," "True Love Can Be Beautiful," "Found that Girl," "Born to Love You," "Never Had a Dream Come True" and "Oh, How Happy." In many instances nobody seems in charge of the band.
James Jamerson's bass on many of these tunes goes from the phenomenal to the ridiculous, often in the space of two minutes. On a few tunes - "Reach In" and "Mama's Pearl" - Jamerson transcends everybody and everything, making abstract musical bass statements out of other people's endeavors by running right over them. But in several other instances he cripples simple pop beauty with distracting instrumental showboating. He overplays enough to kill several songs ("Darlin," "Found that Girl," "La La Means I Love You.") On "Tue Love Can Be Beautiful" Jamerson sounds absolutely whacked.
The results are uneven, but Michael Jackson cuts through everything. On a grown-up, wizened classic like "Who's Loving You," it seems impossible that a kid this young can connect so powerfully to such a perfect song. On "I Don't Know Why I Love You," Michael gets to places I'm not even sure Stevie Wonder or Aretha have found. Jackson had the trademarks of the gifted singer - right when you think he's peaked, he peaks again, and again. His ad-lips seem perfect, his approach is skillful, subtle. There is no disconnect between what he is singing about and what he seems to be feeling. Schooling and feeling are united. Motown came up with enough good material to make ABC a near-standout. Some of the songs are awash with vigorous Motown funk professionalism presented in potent stereophonic glory.
As the Jackson 5 albums moved away from a focus on Michael, the albums grow diffuse. Oddly, Moving Violations remains their only classic album. Straight up funk without the Motown orchestration, it's a prime example of hardily played, mid-seventies, soul beauty - just before keyboard and drum synthesizers would start to ruin things. Whomever these musicians are on Moving Violations: Thanks. Michael is sidelined, but the groove is solid and the playing is hard and beautiful.
In the meantime Jackson drifted into a solo career. Ben is the first time he sounds like a kid in a bad way. The title track is very nice, but the rest of the albums suffers from carousels, teddy bears and skies filled with tears. In actually writing songs suited for his age, Jackson sounds as puppy-lovish as the next pre-teen. He couldn't go anywhere from here. Could he?
THRILLER
If Michael Jackson actually had any claim to the King of Pop title, it would have to start with Off the Wall. Considered Jackson's "coming of age" album, it's a light album that never lives up to the wildness implied in the title. Given Michael's status as an eccentric, it's unfortunate that he's never been able to express himself like eccentrics from Presley to Little Richard to Iggy Pop to George Clinton. It's hard to think of Michael taking an acoustic guitar and pulling out an unplugged, emotional event out of "Girlfriend," "She's Out of My Life," "I Can't Help But See You" or "Rock with You." Candy-coated and predictable, these ballads don't have a spark of originality, let alone genius, and it's not hard to hear any number of other mediocre pop vocalists doing the same kind of work on these songs. The excitable little fella has vanished. It's the dance tunes that pull Off the Wall up a notch, but "Don't Stop," "Get on the Floor," and "Burn the Disco Down" are not played with the excitement of the previously cited Moving Violations.
Jackson has never moved at the fervid pace that many great rock/pop performers/players have moved when on an inspired roll. The follow-up to 1979's Off the Wall wouldn't arrive until 1982's Thriller. "Wanna Be Startin’ Something," "Beat It" and "Billie Jean" are the linchpins of Thriller, and they show the type of compelling music and performance style that Jackson would have to be immersed in if his musical stature were to show signs of increased strength. But these songs would never be matched on subsequent releases. "40 million copies sold" means absolutely nothing in the great scheme of critical things, except perhaps in the way mega-hits tend to slow creativity down as the cash cow is milked till blood flows. (Bad would arrive five years later).
In retrospect, Thriller ranks with other vastly overrated works in pop history like "Stairway to Heaven" and The Wall. The problems include the conventional love songs – "Baby Be Mine," "The Lady in My Life," - which are well sung, but impersonal. There is a much too cute duet with Paul McCartney. So the status of the record rests largely on the centerpiece itself – the Thriller title tune – and what one thinks of this song most likely determines where you rank this album in terms of importance. "Thriller" (the song) shows a preoccupation with the horror genre that might be odd for r&b, but is pretty much every young suburban kid’s banal idea of compelling writing. With Thriller, the funk genre is pitched at an ultra-slick level and doesn’t mesh with gothic necessities that require atmosphere rather than dance/rhythm beats. The Vincent Price monologue is bad camp and the concept is uncomfortably similar to Alice Cooper's use of Price in "The Black Widow."
Dangerous is a more ambitious album than Thriller. It covers a wider range of song styles. The album is almost twice as long, and Jackson's name is more evident in the writing credits. Teddy Riley is the producer on a number of the tracks. He attempts to pull Jackson into the studio synthesized, pop-rap-hip-hop styling circa 1991. Almost all of Riley's tunes boast too few ideas extended through too many minutes. Jackson's breathless, syncopated, swallowed melodies are set flush in the mix. At times, the results sounds like gibberish. Michael's voice should be a main highlight of the album, and sidelining it like this makes no sense. The Jackson/Riley songs offer just half of what Prince offers along the same lines: everything is back-beat, studio-repetitive and mono-rhythmic as hell (if such a thing is possible). Where are the flights of lyricism, the in-your-face vocal drama, the holy band dynamic and instrumental flourish? Where is an unaffected vocal, and a natural sounding harmony, or an off-the-cuff flash of brilliance. Where is the wood, the oak, the blues, the soul? Working this obsessively on such small lyric conceits (lots of bad-girls-walking-into-the-room type stuff) leaves everything sounding histrionically labored. What is created is the opposite of intimacy - too much artifice gets in the way.
The other half of Dangerous is given over to more traditional pop efforts, but most of them have the same studio bound claustrophobia. "Heal the World" is social/political empathy pitched at an earnestly ineffective level. "Will You Be There" is a horribly produced faux-gospel tune rising and falling in modal-shift hell. "Gone Too Soon" is adolescent girlish poetry about stars, comets, and death. Slash, ex-guitarist from Guns and Roses, enlivens a couple of tunes, but not in an unpredictable fashion. If you were trying to make an old fashioned classic length vinyl album out of this offering, the force would need to be with you. Best chances are: 1. "Why You Wanna Trip on Me" - a Teddy Riley/Bernard Bell tune that perfectly expresses Michael's frustrations with the media, and Jackson nails the choruses with gritty angst; 2. "She Drives Me Wild" - a conventional pop tune; 3. "Black and White" - another conventional pop tune; 4. "Who is It?" - a nice double chorus and good vocal. 5. "Give in to Me" - a hard rocker with real pop finesse; 6. Well, hard to say - maybe "Jam," maybe "Keep the Faith." Even shoving all of these songs together leaves much to be desired.
Looking for solid substance on which to rest the King of Pop mantle is futile. Bad, Dangerous, History, and Blood on the Dance Floor were increasingly irritating releases by a studio bound performer who plans too much and sings too little. It's hard to tell what resides in Michael's heart. But on record one notices a lack of song, melody, craft, beauty, empathy, tears, drama, passion, achievement, scope and ambition. These are the things one must find in the work of the One True King of Pop.
King of Pop Music Reviews Index
SF Music Chronicle Home
Contact Us