Have you ever pulled out an old record, CD or tape you used to love and listened to it straight through after years to see if it still sounded as good as it did back then? I do it all the time. And after hitting rock bottom in an attempt to reclaim my childhood by duking it out in a high-stakes Ebay auction for a copy of Milli Vanilli's "Girl You Know It's True" on CD (I only own the cassette, you see) to relive the memories and decide if I liked the songs now as much as I did then (all scandals as to whose vocal cords were vibrating on said record aside), I knew that it would be a worthwhile regular project to go back to the music that meant so much to me in my formative years to either reaffirm what I felt back then and dip my pinkie in the fountain of sonic youth (see what I did there?) or otherwise have a "what the hell was I thinking?" moment as a mature adult with a wise and well-developed musical palate.
For lack of a better name, I'm currently calling my new feature "RE:3," as in "records" or "recordings," "revisited" and "reviewed" (or "re-reviewed").
It makes sense to begin my musical journey with Michael Jackson's "Bad," as the CD was just re-released this week as a 25th Anniversary remaster with lots of bonus stuff. And although I will touch on some of that bonus material briefly, my goal is to concentrate on the original work. We know that "Bad" was so good back in 1987, breaking records for number of single releases from an album (nine of the 11 tracks were singles!) and setting a benchmark for five consecutive number one singles that held up until Katy Perry managed it this past year. And we know that Michael Jackson was possessed with trying to top the success of "Thriller," and "Bad" came the closest.
But now that "Bad" is 25, I'm hearing some critics speak the words of a heretic in daring to posit that perhaps, pound-for-pound, "Bad" is Jackson's greatest album. It's a thought that's crossed my mind for years, though I dared not speak those words aloud. And it was time to analyze that claim.
What I know for sure is that "Bad" was MJ's final album created under the principle of economy. His adult breakthrough, "Off the Wall," had 10 tracks on it, and its follow-up, "Thriller," had only nine. This is shocking considering how substantial both albums - particularly "Thriller" - feel. "Bad" has 11 tracks, and I seem to recall its final cut, "Leave Me Alone" being a cassette-only bonus track, so you could argue that it also had 10. Regardless, Jackson would follow four years later with "Dangerous," which was still brilliant song craft but bloated by comparison at 14 tracks and, maybe for the first time, starting to show that the great one was capable of misjudging a production and including a clunker or two. Jackson would never again give his fans a tight disc of audible perfection; he would begin to show his humanity and have some whiffs to go along with his home runs. And he would never again employ a producer with the force of Quincy Jones to tell him no.
In this feature, I decided to challenge myself by ranking tracks on each album I revisit from favorite to least-favorite, a task that was mind-blowingly stupid and difficult with a record like "Bad" that contained 80 percent released singles (50 percent of them number one singles). With that in mind, I can preface this run-down by mentioning that there's only one track of the 11 that I truly don't care for (though none I hate), and the songs I ranked at 1-8 are up there with any of my favorite Michael Jackson songs from any album.
So here goes. My track-by-track revisit of "Bad," in the order I currently feel reflects what I like the best:
1. Smooth Criminal (track 10)
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| MJ in a gangsta lean. NOW who's bad? |
Some of it has to be because of the music video, which was also always my favorite. Yes, the video for "Thriller" was the most iconic, and yes, the introduction of the moonwalk during the Motown 25th anniversary special gave us his most breathtaking dance move, but who doesn't still freak out when Michael, dressed his best in a white suit with an electric blue shirt and black tie, fedora precariously perched on his head, leans forward at what appears to be a full 45 degree angle, both feet inexplicably planted on the ground, both legs improbably straight? Jackson never looked cooler than this. It wasn't long before his clothes were punctuated with enough buckles to tighten the pants of the entire Von Trapp family and his fetish for military wear-by-way-of-a-drag-queen began to permanently cloud his fashion judgment.
Only "Billie Jean" can challenge "Smooth Criminal" as MJ's greatest story song. And they're always about women. Here, Annie is clearly not okay...the victim of an attack in her apartment at the hands of a mysterious and paradoxically debonair assailant. I always thought the lyrics were cool because they were so different, and because of them, I never made it through CPR re-certification without flippantly exploding into the song's catchy question of a refrain.
But the greatest triumph of "Smooth Criminal" is its mood. The song's sonic palate is staccato, disturbed. It's a little faster than a typical MJ beat. And it's punctuated with explosive screams of "Dowwww!!!" in just the right spots to keep the listener locked into an inescapable intensity. Layer onto this Michael's vocal, a choppy delivery that sounds like bullets being fired from a gun, just as its video would later illustrate.
Even 25 years later, "Smooth Criminal" feels, sounds and looks as good to me as it did back then.
2. Man in the Mirror (track 7)
I remember when one's confession of love for "Man in the Mirror" was ammunition for a playground beatdown, so cheesy was its synth line and its self-help lyrics. But then, when Michael died, the song lost every existing drop of irony. It has become to Michael what "I Will Always Love You" has become in the wake of the death of Whitney Houston. It is the track for remembering Michael's heart, humanity and mission statement as an artist.
Perhaps I masked my appreciation for "Man in the Mirror" a bit as a 14-year-old, but even if I did, I always loved the song if for no other reason than the fact that I'm a sucker for a well-used choir. And "Man in the Mirror" is nothing if not a powerful showcase for half of the Winans family and Andre Crouch's choir to swoop in and convince me to "make that change."
I think "Man in the Mirror" is Michael's most important song because it stripped away his lunacy and eccentricities and, with raw emotion and direct, bare lyrics (courtesy of Siedah Garrett and Glen Ballard, as this was the only single from "Bad" that Michael did not write himself), Michael could, for five minutes, push away our memories of whatever it was about him that made his less than a truly caring human being.
Now that I'm older, I love the song more than I ever did. Few things in life make me smile as easily as overhearing one of my own children singing along to the song when it comes on. And if Michael had to be remembered for only five songs (what a cruel concept, huh?), who would argue that this track would have to be one of them?
3. Another Part of Me (track 6)
I guess "Another Part of Me" was "Bad"'s first clunker as a single, stalling just outside the top 10 at #11 after the first five singles on the album had all reached #1. Yes, stalling at #11 was the very definition of failure when you were Michael Jackson. But to me, it was the song that took MJ to a whole different level.
I could never talk about "Another Part of Me" without talking about a girl named Camille Graham with whom I shared many classes in high school. This was Camille's favorite MJ song, and she was so vocal about her love for it that we couldn't help but love it too. At the time, I had dropped my "Bad" cassette in its wooden slot in my wall-mounted cassette case in favor of sister Janet's "Control," which had just been released and had, for me, overshadowed "Bad" as my favorite of the two albums.
But Camille and I nurtured a mutual respect for Janet's "The Pleasure Principle" and Michael's "Another Part of Me" built on our shared love of all things Jackson. And while all these later I don't remember that much about Camille, I remember how easily a song can become someone's signature, or at least become my memory of a person.
As for the song itself, it's classic Michael: a propulsive and steady groove lifting positive lyrics about "brighter days." My enjoyment of the song has held up over time.
4. Liberian Girl (track 4)
I've read a lot lately about how underrated "Human Nature" is as an exquisitely-written and produced pop track, and only in my advancing age have I come to understand that "Liberian Girl" is "Bad"'s "Human Nature," its musical restraint and sonic beauty a gem for Michael's more adult listeners.
No track on "Bad" that I can think of has gone up in stock as I've gotten older as much as this song has for me. I can remember not caring much about it, and now I find it to be one Jackson's greatest moments on record. A softly-delivered female vocal part whispers in Swahili, assisted by a double downbeat-driven groove that's part Caribbean island, part African. And there's no question that the song's greatest feature is thanks to Michael's infamous studio wizardry, and that's his use of layering his own vocals until he's created a choir out of his own voice. MJ did that a lot, but I'm not sure if it ever sounded better than it does here.
5. Leave Me Alone (track 11)
By the time Michael got to his "HIStory" album, the songs he was writing about how difficult it was to be him were growing a little tiresome to listeners because of all that Jackson seemed to have brought upon himself, making "Leave Me Alone" perhaps his best self-defense track, the best song he'd written about himself. This is likely because although some very bizarre tabloid stories had circulated about the star, he was still endlessly likeable and the public had yet to discover that he was capable of making any decisions that would challenge his moral character.
Once again, the success of "Leave Me Alone" as a song is largely inseparable from its music video, a "Gullivers Travels"-inspired piece of genius in which Michael embraces - and mocks - every famous rumor about him. Only Peter Gabriel's "Sledgehammer" video contained so much whimsy and computer-generated wizardry.
When I hear the song now, I'm sobered. We didn't, after all, leave him alone. It's a somber listen today because he sings it as a humble request with a vocal largely free of vitriol. And we walked all over him for it.
6. The Way You Make Me Feel (track 2)
I bet many would pick "The Way You Make Me Feel" as their favorite Michael Jackson song from this album, but I remember this song as being the most overplayed from the album on the radio, and I think I got a little tired of it. And besides, one of the song's greatest moments never appears on record, but instead, happens in the music video, where a pop star on the prowl circles a beautiful woman on a street corner, snaps his fingers, and delivers an a cappella "You knock me off of my feet now bay-bay...HOOOOOO!" that, thanks to its naked exposure, stands as one of the greatest vocal moments of Jackson's entire career.
"The Way You Make Me Feel" is feel-good Michael at its pinnacle,and one of his best examples of a perfect-tempoed groove. He delivered the track long before we questioned whether or not the expression of such joyful feelings about a woman was a genuine sentiment. And even after all these years, the song is as ready-made for singing behind the wheel as anything I can think of.
7. Bad (track 1)
How in the hell did Martin Scorese come to direct one of Michael Jackson's most MTV-exploting and uber-choreographed music videos? How heavy was that outfit with all of that metal hanging off of it? And how could the authentically-tough-looking gang members of "Beat It" suddenly look so effeminate? I had many questions about "Bad" back then, and some linger. (I'm hoping Spike Lee's forthcoming documentary on the anniversary of the album will provide me with some closure.)
One thing I never questioned was the four ascending synth chords that usher in "Bad"'s opening and title track. It's true that we were never convinced for even a second that Jackson was as tough as he sang he was in the song, so I think we spent a good amount of time laughing at it. But make no mistake, we were grooving to one of his catchiest bass lines while we were doing it. And then, when Jackson himself expressed enjoyment over Weird Al Yankovic's second food-related parody of one of his songs, we enjoyed "Bad" all the more.
It might seem like a gesture of dislike on my part to have placed "Bad" this low on my list, but I have to be honest and say that while I've always enjoyed the song, I've also always thought of it as a bit of a novelty track for Jackson, and listening to it afresh in 2012 confirms for me that while I've made some egregious errors in judgment when it comes to my musical tastes, this was not one of them. It's a fun song, but it's also bad....in a good way.
8. Dirty Diana (track 9)
Perhaps the biggest problem I had with "Dirty Diana" was that my mom's name is Diana and while any parallels between her and the Diana Michael sings about here were absolute impossibilities, the song at least put those thoughts in my head. So I distanced myself from it a little bit.
I also didn't know what to do with Jackson's rock side yet, though I was smart enough to understand how, as he had with Eddie Van Halen on "Thriler," Jackson could please fans of almost every genre short of skiffle on one individual album. Here again is a song that opens with a crazy electronic chord, a recurring sonic theme on the album. And then a crowd comes in. This was Jackson fighting off the women, his crazy female fans. And at the chorus, in comes hair-sprayed-to-hell metal god Steve Stevens with a crisp, bracing guitar solo. And we knew there was nothing that Michael couldn't do.
Listening to "Dirty Diana" now, I can almost see it as "Billie Jean 2.0," at least thematically. It's a great rock vocal from an R&B/pop star. And it's certainly the most dramatic track on "Bad," with only "Smooth Criminal" in competition for that title.
9. Just Good Friends (track 5)
Okay, I'll admit that I skipped "Just Good Friends" as a kid on my cassette. The song was kind of a throw-away. And it still is, but it has appreciated dramatically in value by simple virtue of the fact that it's a duet between Jackson and Stevie Wonder. No matter how you look at it, the song has everlasting value for that reason alone.
The track is filled with Stevie's Moog-banging keyboard groove, a sound that dominated his own 80s output, and I'm fascinated when I listen to it now because it truly feels like a collaboration between the two, something I might not have deduced - much less appreciated - when I was in junior high. Upon revisiting the track, I'm surprised by how much I enjoy what I otherwise know is a throwaway track if the lean "Bad" has one. But it's also a track with two of my all-time favorite artists on it, so I've had fun rediscovering it.
10. Speed Demon (track 3)
Was Michael sneezing at the end of each groove line on the intro to "Speed Demon"? "Choo!" For me, this was always the most Michael-sounding track on "Bad" that never fully clicked for me. It's incredibly mechanical, particularly in its use of a repetitive ascending-then-decending keyboard run that happens so quickly, and it's overused. The car noises felt like gimmicks, distractions. Only a Prince-style guitar part saves the track from being completely inorganic, and that feature of the song has too low of a profile in the mix.
11. I Just Can't Stop Loving You (track 8)
"I Just Can't Stop Loving You" has always been my least favorite Michael Jackson single. I'm not sure if I still feel that way today, but if I did a full reassessment, I don't think my feelings will have changed much. This is no slight on Siedah Garrett, who's genius on "Bad" was more successfully used as the co-writer of "Man in the Mirror." But for me, "I Just Can't Stop Loving You" was always soaking wet with syrup. Not even an emotional softie like me could stand how ready-made the song was for airplay in Hallmark stores around the country.
The way the vocal enters in from that softly sustained chord is high drama, and before the end of the first verse, I've had about enough. Yes, it's a good vocal. A damn good one, in fact. And there's no doubt that there's true emotion behind it. And yes, the song builds successfully to its climax. But for me, it was too much then and it's even more too much now.
A fresh listen to "Bad," summarized:
My revisit to bad found me feeling surprisingly the same toward most of its cuts today as I felt about it in 1987, the key exception being my new found excitement for "Liberian Girl." And though I listened to it repeatedly in recent days to write this review, I'm still not certain I can say whether or not this is the best Michael Jackson album. (It's amazing how important sentiment and memory is to determining something like this, and I have a deeper affection for "Bad"'s follow-up, "Dangerous," knowing full well that this is a much tighter album.)
I would recommend picking up at least the two-disc version of the anniversary reissue of "Bad," because you've got to hear many of the bonus tracks pulled from the era's recording sessions and included here without further production work (thank you, MJ's estate!). "Don't Be Messin' Round" is slight but light, fun and funky. "Song Groove (aka Abortion Papers)" hints at Michael's interest in tackling controversial topics with compassion. It's an extension of "Billie Jean," and it's also clear why he decided to abandon it, probably not confident enough that it would be taken in the spirit in which he intended it. And "Price of Fame" is a cousin to "Leave Me Alone," a prophetic early look at the ills that were already starting to befall the king of pop.
My favorite of the unreleased tracks is the transcendent "I'm So Blue," with its melody line and hook so catchy that it instantly becomes as memorable as anything that made the album's final cut. It would have done well on "Bad." I absolutely adore it. And I'm also a fan of "Al Capone," Jackson's first incarnation of what would later become "Smooth Criminal." It's simply fascinating to here what Jackson originally did with his ideas and listen for the pieces he kept and what he discarded. "Capone"'s groove stood on its own just fine, though "Smooth Criminal" further improved upon it.
Jackson's estate handed "Bad" and "Speed Demon" over to some contemporary EDM remixers, with results worthy of forgetting. Infusing a Pitbull rap in the Afrojack remix of "Bad" is what the song finally needed for it to live up to its title in the literal sense. Yes, the groove is freshened up for contemporary audiences, but how necessary is that for a song that is already perfectly funky? And while the Nero remix of "Speed Demon" is the less annoying of the two, it feels equally unnecessary, as if Skrillex jumped into the driver's seat of the car we keep hearing in the original and bumped MJ to the back.Why mess with a good thing? Especially when it's so "Bad."
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