Michael Jackson
Blood on the Dancefloor
In 1984, Michael Jackson was the biggest star on the planet. His "Thriller" L.P was far and away the biggest selling record of all time, spawning seven hit singles and garnering universal acclaim. Viewed as a master of the video medium and a consummate performer, he could have released the gaps between the songs as an eighth single and it would have gone top five. Thirteen years later and the self-styled "King Of Pop" is still probably top dog, the hottest ticket in town (when he actually deigns to perform), but he hasn't half blown the goodwill vote. Choose your poison - the skin tone, the facial surgery, the animals and children axis, the marriage, the divorce, the pregnancy. A staple in the repertoire of every club-land comic, he is arguably as reviled as he is revered these days. The floating voters have fled in tabloid-fuelled disgust, leaving the die hards to bolster the sales graph. No doubt a killer album could turn the tide in a jiffy. Sadly "Blood On The Dancefloor" is not a killer album.
Cheesily sub-titled "History In The Mix", the L.P features five new tracks and eight remixes of songs from 1995's "History" album, and it smacks of a flagrant rip-off. Given that Jacko tends to liberally palm off remixes as bonus tracks on single releases as it is one wonders how valid another batch of them are to even the most fervent MJ apostle.
What we get is a mixture of clunky piano house mixes and hip hop makeovers from name producers like Frankie Knuckles and Terry Farley that conspicuously fail to better the originals. "Earth Song" for example is smothered by a handbag house backbeat completely at odds with the delicate dynamic of the song. Regardless of it's gauche sentiment it is one of Jackson's finest vocal performances, especially in the climactic coda. The new dancefoor-friendly reading is anodyne in comparison. The same goes for "You Are Not Alone" , "Money" and "Stranger In Moscow", where all subtlety is shunned in favour of tempo.
Percussion pervades in the new material as well. Stabbing snare drums and bass loops dominate the final mix, with even Jacko's larynx taking second place. This reliance on rhythm over melody is exemplified by the title track (the recent blink-and-you'll-miss-it number one) and the turgid "Morpine". Only "Is It Scary?", a vaguely sinister work-out with a funky gothic hookline reminiscent of "Thriller" begs repeated listening.
It is alarming how dated this L.P sounds. The remixes are no real advance on the Black Box era of House music, whilst the breathy bump n'grind of the new stuff could easily pass for Cameo. For a man who virtually reinvented pop at the turn of the eighties, this isn't just bad, it's dreadful
Reviewed by Anthony J.Brown.