Pitchfork

Eight thousand Michael Jackson fans-- the ones in the U.S. that actually bought this collection in its first week of release-- could be wrong, though I think it's more likely that the group outside of those 8K are the ones with the loose screws. After all, a two-disc best-of collection from a performer with more than 150 million records sold worldwide is bound to have better sales numbers than the latest volume of Now That's What I Call Music!. But the majority of those millions were sold years ago, before (most of) the plastic surgeries, the 30-foot statue floating down the Thames, the gold-plated baseball equipment, the crotch grabbing, the ethnic slurs, the baby dangling, and the countless accusations of child molestation. Suffice it to say that any pop capital Michael Jackson accrued during his reign as the self-appointed King of Pop has long been spent. However, as these two discs ably show, his honorarium was, for a time, actually justified.

For most folk, Disc One might be more than enough MJ. The disc covers the meat of Jackson's career, starting with the Jackson 5, and ending with the title track from Thriller. Anyone that doesn't know "ABC" or "I Want You Back" must be deaf, and anyone that doesn't enjoy these songs must be dead. Pitchfork staffer Tom Breihan will be happy to know that "The Love You Save" is included-- it's the J5 #1 that never gets any play, and it might be the best of the bunch. Of course, as much as Jackson is all about the finger-snapping funky dance stuff, he's also about the treacly ballad, so instead of "I'll Be There", there's "Got To Be There", which really shouldn't be anywhere. And then there's "Ben", a song about a boy and his homicidal rat that touched the lives of both Crispin Glover and Eddie Vedder. Yay for the skip button, because right after that roadblock comes great unsung tracks from the Jacksons, like "Blame It On the Boogie", and the ubiquitous Quincy Jones collaborations that made Jackson a legend.

The final 12 tracks of Disc One are comprised with cuts from Off The Wall and Thriller, including all seven Top Ten singles from the latter album. The importance of Thriller can't be understated, musically or otherwise-- 27x platinum in the U.S. alone, ushered in the age of milking albums for all they're worth, helped dimwits at MTV realize that having popular black artists on their nascent network might be a good idea, gave John Landis a chance to do more werewolf stuff-- but it's the Off The Wall tracks that shine brightest. The triple-threat of "Don't Stop Till You Get Enough," "Rock With You", and "Off The Wall" hinted at the effortless pop hopscotch Jackson would execute on the next record. Thriller does manage to make the Beatles and heavy metal (and, um, monster movies) hold hands like BFFs-- no easy feat in the early 1980s, regardless of who's doing it-- but it could take years of distance and brainwashing for "Beat It" or "Billie Jean" to shake off their played-out flavor. Hearing "Thriller" away from the zombie chorus line is interesting, though, if only because one comes to realize that a song about being pursued by 40-eyed behemoths actually made CBS a boatload of cash. Of course, the title track's success came in the wake of a song that goes from a refrain of "You're just a buffet/ You're a vegetable" to a coda of tribal chanting, which goes to show how off-the-wall Thriller actually was.

In light of what Disc One offers, Disc Two will invariably disappoint, just as the 8x platinum Bad was a disappointment in the wake of the unparalleled success of Thiller. With hindsight, it's hard not to see the songs from Bad in an unflattering light. As Tom B. noted in his write-up regarding the Michael Jackson box-set, this is where all the tics and affectations that people think of when they think of Michael Jackson came to roost-- not five seconds pass without an unwarranted "shamon" or "hee-hee" or hiccup or "woo". While Bad boasted more #1 hits than its predecessor-- ah, the joy of riding coattails-- most of the singles are just lesser versions of Thriller tracks. "Bad" is a beat-down "Beat It", "The Way You Make Me Feel" is a tepid rehash of "P.Y.T.", and the hamfisted seduction in "Dirty Diana" is light years from the alluring ambiguity of "Billie Jean". And then there's "Man in the Mirror", wherein the King reacquires his taste for schmaltzy sub-"Ben" balladry, now cutting it with a need to "make that change" for the sake of the entire human race. It might be simply a matter of a failed negotiations, but it's no small blessing that "We Are the World" is far, far, far away from this collection. Unfortunately, no such boon kept the chirpy and grointastic "Black Or White" off the board.

That said, the second disc does right by Jackson, culling quality tracks from the sparse smattering of original material that followed That Album, and all the non-musical nonsense that surrounded this music. Without such selectivity, an interested novice would be better served just grabbing Off The Wall and Thriller. Instead, Bad's gorgeous "I Just Can't Stop Loving You" and neglected Dangerous single "In The Closet" receive their deserved moment. Even the DOA single from his latest album, "You Rock My World", sounds surprisingly spry. Being far removed from that awful video featuring Marlon Brando's corpse and Michael Tucker as Mini-MJ helps, just as getting the hell away from Iman and Eddie Murphy does wonders for "Remember the Time". Therein lies the rub of Jackson's career-- as fantastic a performer, songwriter, and singer he is, people at large are going to remember Michael Jackson more for his Wacko Jacko public persona than for his exemplary body of work. Given recent events, the backlash is understandable, but in regards to the actual music being offered here, it's a damn shame.