Sunday, May 11, 2008
Her best singles represent the kind of quality craftsmanship that made us listen to the radio in the first place.
Aug 21, 2001 | These are dark days for pop radio. Calculation rules. TV shows like "Making the Band" and "Popstars" celebrate the corporate Meccano set that is current pop culture; the deluge of boy bands and Britney leaves us grateful even for a bloated and self-indulgent remake of "Lady Marmalade" if it can at least remind us of an inspired original. Pop fans wait for the dawn to break -- and in the meantime, thank the radio gods for Janet Jackson.
For 15 years, spanning the eras from Journey to Destiny's Child, Janet Jackson has frequently provided the best reason to turn on the radio -- although, admittedly, the case for opening a good book is usually a lot stronger. Top 40 has always been more or less a sausage factory. Between the occasional bursts of true genius that change the prevailing flavor of pop, journeyman producers and performers rush in to fill the gaps with sawdust imitations of the real joy. Much of pop history has consisted of marking time until the next big thing.
Janet Jackson is not, and never has been, the next big thing. Working with producers/songwriters Jimmy Jam and Terry Lewis, Jackson could be fairly described as yet another sausage merchant. But Janet's gourmet links are so fine. Since her 1986 breakthrough album "Control," whatever Janet Jackson song happened to be on the radio at any given time was usually the song you wanted to hear. At their best, her singles represent the kind of quality craftsmanship that made us listen to the radio in the first place -- the kind of songs that make you swallow a stream of crap from O-Town and 112 because the next song might just be "Someone to Call My Lover."
That hit from Jackson's latest album, "All for You," demonstrates much of what makes her records stand out from the radio dross. Opening with a guitar sample from America's "Ventura Highway," the producers demonstrate how such samples ought to be used -- as filigree on an original work, rather than the basis for a Puff Daddy-style karaoke record.
As for the singer, she is dreaming aloud about the lover she seeks: "Maybe we'll meet in a bar/He'll drive a funky car/Maybe we'll meet in a club ... " A bar? A club? Hardly a Cinderella scenario. And yet there is a quality in Jackson's voice -- the kind of sweet yearning Diana Ross brought to the Supremes -- that culminates at the end of each verse as she sings a wistful "Maybe!" Somehow, Jackson makes a tale of club-hopping sound as innocent as "Someday My Prince Will Come."
"Innocent" is not a word that has been attached to Janet Jackson's music of late -- ever since 1993's "Janet" album, her lyrics have displayed startling sexual frankness. And yet while her songs have often been raunchier than Madonna's, Jackson's image retains a certain wholesome quality. Perhaps it's because of the inherent sweetness of her voice, or perhaps it's the power of first impressions. Aside from some early performances with her famous siblings, Janet's first real introduction to the public came via roles on the sitcom "Good Times," in the late '70s, and then "Diff'rent Strokes," in the early '80s. That initial clean-cut image has subsequently allowed her to explore the subject of sexual pleasure as the natural province of a mature young woman.
Then too, the public may cut Janet some slack because, as she has admitted in interviews: "People see me as the 'normal one.'" A relatively uncomplicated pop career is not what people have come to expect from the offspring of the most famous showbiz clan ever to come out of Gary, Ind.
Born May 16, 1966, Janet is the youngest of Joe and Katherine Jackson's nine wunderkinds. The Jackson 5 were already stars when she was just a child, and Janet was spared the poverty of the family's early years. After beginning her acting career, Jackson released her self-titled debut LP in 1982. She was only 16. The record drew little attention, and 1984's "Dream Street" didn't do much better. Meanwhile, brother Michael was dominating the charts in a way that few artists have ever accomplished.
Janet's first real attempt to break away from the tight strictures of the Jackson clan was personal, not professional. At 18, she eloped with singer James Debarge for a quickie marriage that was just as quickly annulled, sending her back to the family home in Los Angeles. Her next breakaway would be more successful; it took her not to the altar, but to Minneapolis.
In 1985 A&M Records executive John McClain suggested that Janet work with Jimmy Jam and Terry Lewis, two aspiring producers who had until recently been members of the raucous funk outfit the Time. When Janet's father, still her manager then, heard that the duo was based in Prince's hometown, he bristled. According to writer David Ritz, father Joe warned the two men: "I don't want my daughter sounding like Prince."
And that, more or less, was the end of Joe Jackson's professional hold over his daughter. Because sounding like Prince was something eager young Janet could definitely get behind. The resulting LP, "Control," was a statement of independence packed with insolent hits like "What Have You Done for Me Lately" and "Nasty." In the fall of '86, "When I Think of You" not only gave Janet her first No. 1 single, it provided a blueprint for subsequent explosions of pop ecstasy like 1989's "Escapade" and 1998's "Together Again." Sausages don't get much tastier than those.
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