Man in the Music

by Joseph Vogel

  The main addition was Slash. “He sent me a tape of the song that had no guitars other than some slow picking,” recalled the guitarist. “I called him and sang over the phone what I wanted to do….[When I came to the studio] I basically went in and started to play it….Michael just wanted whatever was in my style….I don’t come from this heavy-metal school of guitar playing. All the stuff that I do or dig is from the same place that Michael Jackson comes from. We may go in separate directions or be on different sides of the fence, but when it comes down to it, it all comes from the same shit.”

  Slash’s contribution made Jackson change his calculation about the outro. Instead of the mournful cries, he soared over the top with pent-up passion and ferocity. “Love is a feeling,” he shouts. “Give it when I want it / Quench my desire, ’cause I’m on fire.” Part of what gives the song such impact is its contrasts: in the verses, Jackson is vulnerable and insecure; then in the chorus he comes in like a hurricane. Along with “Who Is It,” this was about as raw and soul-baring as Jackson had ever been on a record.

  “Don’t try to understand me,” he sings in one of his most memorable lines. “Because your words just aren’t enough.” As soon as he finishes the last word, Slash comes slicing in on guitar with a vengeance. “Michael Jackson was often at his best when he was indulging a dark streak,” proclaimed Rolling Stone, “and this strange, sinister number about obsessive love…is all ice and shadows. Jackson sounds agonized on the chorus, and Slash’s eerie descending arpeggios envelop the song like spider webs. [It is] one of Jackson’s more masterfully ominous numbers.”

  11. “WILL YOU BE THERE”

  Written by Michael Jackson

  Produced by Michael Jackson and Bruce Swedien

  The segue from “Give in to Me” to “Will You Be There” tells you everything you need to know about the ambition and scope of Dangerous. Up to this point, Jackson has already dabbled in hip-hop, New Jack Swing, funk, R&B, and rock. Then, as the turmoil of “Give in to Me” fades, the listener hears the reverential strains of a choir singing in the fourth movement of Beethoven’s Ninth Symphony. The part was sampled from a CD Jackson owned of the symphony by the Cleveland Orchestra. This prelude builds to a majestic climax at about the one-minute mark, before melding into an angelic chorale part (arranged by Andraé and Sandra Crouch). The song proper doesn’t begin until nearly two minutes in.

  “Will You Be There” takes Michael Jackson into new artistic territory. The nearly eight-minute epic blends classical, black gospel, and R&B and ends in a spoken confession/prayer. Music critic John Kays calls it “one of the best efforts of his career….A moving spiritual that seems to be carved out of the pages of the Old Testament.” Indeed, after the Job-like anguish of the two previous tracks, “Will You Be There” arrives as a moment of grace and hope. The use of Beethoven’s Ninth Symphony effectively takes Jackson’s struggle out of the pages of the celebrity magazines and into the grand human drama. It situates his struggle on a more significant, less trivial scale.

  It also sets the mood for a new chamber of the album. “He was brilliant with that stuff,” said Brad Buxer. “Intros and outros were really important to him. The intros were almost as important as the song itself.”

  Jackson said the song came to him while sitting in a tree—he called it his “Giving Tree”—at Neverland Ranch. He developed the song initially with Brad Buxer, to whom he beatboxed the percussion and hummed the chords. “By this time he was getting very comfortable with what I could do,” recalled Buxer. “We both sat down at the piano. It was extremely simple, where I just matched the chords to the melody he was singing. For the chorus, I kept the chords the same for simplicity but changed up the rhythm. This kept a kind of simplistic purity to the track.” Buxer then came up with a series of triads for the bridge. “He loved it and then sang the top notes of the voicings I was using for the chords in the bridge,” Buxer said.

  Following the elaborate prelude, the song kicks off with a simple piano hook and a shuffling, Chariots of Fire–like percussion. “It was modeled after Michael’s beatbox,” said Buxer. “He’d say, ‘It has to be dry and in your face,’ meaning no reverb, no effects. Just raw.” That sound was ultimately achieved by banging a piece of wood against a piano bench. It created an organic wood-to-wood texture. Buxer recorded that sound and tweaked it in his Emulator keyboard. “It is exactly the same pattern of what Michael had been beatboxing but was now made up of wood sounds that I had then turned into a percussion part,” said Buxer.

  Work on the song continued through the summer and fall of 1991, with Matt Forger assembling various parts from an array of musicians, from Paulinho da Costa’s maracas to Johnny Mandel’s orchestral arrangement to Michael Boddicker’s synth programming. Jackson, meanwhile, kept Brad Buxer’s piano performance from the original demo (Greg Phillinganes plays the gospel chords during the final prayer). Eventually, the Andraé Crouch Choir came in to record their part, which was captured by Bruce Swedien.

  In contrast to “Give in to Me,” Jackson begins the song in a low, serene voice (“Hold me, like the River Jordan…”) before climbing up an octave in the second verse (“But they told me…”), giving the song momentum. As the song progresses, the Andraé Crouch Choir’s humming grows stronger. Jackson, of course, had done gospel before in songs like “Man in the Mirror,” but “Will You Be There” is perhaps his fullest realization of its language, style, and purpose.

  The power of the song is the way it builds. After the bridge, at the 3:40 mark (“Everyone’s taking control of me / Seems that the world’s got a role for me”), it really begins to take off, as Jackson launches into a rousing call-and-response with the choir. Where on “Man in the Mirror” he leads the charge for change, here he pleads for comfort, assistance, guidance. Jackson may have left the Jehovah’s Witness faith, yet in songs like this it is clear he hasn’t abandoned his roots in the Bible and the black gospel tradition. With each call, Jackson is lifted up by the choir, gathering strength. It’s difficult not to get goose bumps as this sublime drama plays out.

  Part of Jackson’s legacy will always be in his darker tracks (“Billie Jean,” “Who Is It”), but it is also in songs like this—songs that elevate and inspire. Brad Buxer called it “one of the most beautiful songs he has ever written” and claims that it “attests to his true genius.”

  “Will You Be There” is a personal song about a universal condition. Whether the final prayer is directed to God, a loved one, or humanity as a whole, it communicates our common yearning for love, devotion, and understanding.

  12. “KEEP THE FAITH”

  Written by Glen Ballard, Siedah Garrett, and Michael Jackson

  Produced by Michael Jackson and Bruce Swedien

  “Keep the Faith” continues the gospel fervor. “So much for the charge that he abandoned his black heritage,” quipped Susan Fast. Indeed, to fully appreciate the song, you must understand the role the black church—and gospel music—has played in American history as a force of solidarity, strength, and empowerment in the face of oppression and injustice.

  Rooted in the pathos of spirituals and the blues, gospel often tells stories, not just of spiritual devotion, but also of human suffering and endurance. They connect the present with the past. As W. E. B. Du Bois put it: “The music of Negro religion still remains the most original and beautiful expression of human life and longing yet born on American soil….Intensified by the tragic soul life of the slave…it became the one true expression of a people’s sorrow, despair, and hope.” Gospel-infused “freedom songs,” of course, also played a key role in the civil rights movement.

  In songs like “Will You Be There” and “Keep the Faith,” then, Jackson is tapping into a genre with a deep and rich past. This was not by accident. These traditions were passed onto Jackson—by his family, by collaborators, by his own knowledge of black history.

 
Crossover gospel—gospel targeting a wider, pop audience—was also part of that history, from Ray Charles to Aretha Franklin to Whitney Houston. On “Keep the Faith,” Jackson follows in this tradition. Perhaps with his global, multicultural audience in mind, he avoids religion-specific references (no mentions of Jesus, for example), opting instead for a more universal message of endurance and self-belief.

  The song was a collaboration with Glen Ballard and Siedah Garrett, the same tandem who created “Man in the Mirror.” “Keep the Faith” shares strains of that song, though it is primarily aimed at offering encouragement to the struggling individual. “The lyrics are like a proper sermon on Sunday by a spirited preacher trying to uplift his congregation to meet the challenges that life proposes,” wrote music critic John Kays. Without Jackson’s vocal to bring the lines to life, the lyrics can easily come across as a string of platitudes.

  When he sang the song, however, he transformed it. “Sitting at a piano and having him sing…it’s just a religious experience,” recalled collaborator Glen Ballard. “The guy is amazing.” Indeed, what seems like a rather innocuous, sanitized pop gospel song suddenly goes all the way to church in the nearly three-minute, rapturous outro. Even for a natural like Jackson, that performance required some sweat. According to Bruce Swedien, Jackson became so flustered by the song he walked out of the studio in the middle of a take, something he almost never did. Swedien found him in the corner of a studio office “crying his eyes out.” Swedien calmed Jackson down. “I told him, ‘Michael, it’s not that big a deal. I’ll just record it in the other key.’ We’d tried two keys and, unfortunately, picked the wrong one. He was really upset. I told him, ‘Michael, we’ve got to face this right now.’ ”

  True to the theme of the song, Jackson went back to work. It was already very late in the night, but Swedien told Jackson, “We’re not going home until you’ve sung this all the way through.” They didn’t leave the studio until dawn, but Jackson went home satisfied with the result. Listen to the final breakdown at the 4:40 mark with the African drums and Jackson’s ad-libs with the choir. That’s not the sound of sanitized pop. Parts of his vocal were so powerful, you can hear them causing interference. The recording couldn’t contain it. Swedien decided to leave it in as a testament to Jackson’s tenacity.

  13. “GONE TOO SOON”

  Written by Buz Kohan and Larry Grossman

  Produced by Michael Jackson and Bruce Swedien

  In the wake of Michael Jackson’s tragic death in 2009 at the age of fifty, “Gone Too Soon” suddenly became infused with new meaning. Ironically, the first time Jackson heard the song himself, it was being played to commemorate the passing of another artist whose time came far too early: Karen Carpenter. It was February 1983. Jackson was watching a TV special, called “Here’s Television Entertainment,” when he saw singer Dionne Warwick perform “Gone Too Soon” to honor Carpenter, who was just thirty-two when she died. “Certain singers carry with them the energy of their time,” Warwick reflected. “They become symbols or signposts. They’re reminders of our frailties and need to communicate….[Tonight] we are left with unanswered questions that are asked when any great talent is consumed before its time: Why? What if? And what might have been?”

  Warwick then began her performance. Watching at home, Jackson wept. Late that night he called up Buz Kohan, a renowned television producer, writer, and longtime friend, to ask about the song. Kohan confirmed that he had written the song, along with Larry Grossman. Jackson told him how beautiful and moving he found the ballad. “It’s yours when you want it,” Kohan said.

  Over the ensuing years, however, the timing was never right. Then Jackson met Ryan White, a young teenager from Kokomo, Indiana, who had been diagnosed with HIV in 1984 when he was just thirteen years old. White was teased, taunted, and threatened at school. When the threats turned to violence, his family was forced to leave their hometown. White subsequently became the most visible face of the AIDS crisis—and a powerful spokesperson for AIDS education.

  Hearing his story in the news, Jackson reached out to and befriended Ryan White in 1989. In the final years of White’s short life, the two spent many days together at Neverland, forming a deep bond. Jackson knew he couldn’t change Ryan’s fate, but he hoped to give him some escape and joy before his time was up. White and his family made several trips to Neverland Ranch that year, where they rode four-wheelers, ate pizza, and watched movies, including an advance private screening of Indiana Jones: The Last Crusade. “Those trips to California kept me going,” Ryan said. Jackson later bought Ryan a red Mustang convertible, his dream car, for his birthday. Just months later, however, on April 8, 1990, Ryan died.

  Jackson was devastated. Soon after, he called Buz Kohan about recording “Gone Too Soon.” Kohan came to the studio at Record One in Sherman Oaks when Jackson recorded the song. As usual, Jackson sang in the dark to fully immerse himself in the process. Sitting by engineer Bruce Swedien at the control desk, Kohan got goose bumps as he listened. The lyrics were about the beauty, transience, and fragility of life. For many performers, those sentiments might come across as contrived or sentimental, but Jackson was no ordinary performer. “He put his soul into it,” recalled Kohan. “There was no exaggeration or affect. It was real emotion.”

  “Gone Too Soon” was released as a single on World AIDS Day, December 1, 1993. Jackson also performed the song at President Bill Clinton’s inaugural gala to further educate the world about Ryan White and to garner political support and funding for AIDS research. “One can never choose to forget how much vitriolic hate was spewed against AIDS patients at the height of the virus’s transmission,” wrote author and music critic Jason King. “Jackson released his tribute at a time in the 1990s when I can’t recall many, if any, hip-hop artists willing to talk about or discuss AIDS publicly.” Indeed, Jackson became, along with friend Elizabeth Taylor, one of the most prominent celebrity voices to get behind AIDS education and treatment.

  Jackson rededicated the song to Princess Diana after her tragic death in 1997. Usher performed the song at Michael Jackson’s memorial in 2009.

  14. “DANGEROUS”

  Written by Michael Jackson, Bill Bottrell, and Teddy Riley

  Produced by Teddy Riley and Michael Jackson

  The album closes with perhaps the hardest-hitting song on the album—and one of the most impressively produced. It is a jarring transition after “Gone Too Soon,” but Jackson felt it was important to end with something edgy—something that reminded people of the sonic innovation the album represented.

  “Dangerous” was originally recorded with Bill Bottrell in the summer of 1990. Bottrell had started the track while Jackson was on his Bad World Tour. The main hook was an outgrowth of the song “Streetwalker.” Bottrell tinkered around with it for months until Jackson returned.

  Jackson came up with the evocative lyrics and decided to speak the verses, similar to Madonna’s 1990 hit “Justify My Love.” The wide strings and sexy, moody vibe also resembled Madonna’s work from this period. Interestingly, the outro seems to draw from the atmospheric score for the 1990s TV show Twin Peaks, composed by David Lynch and Angelo Badalamenti.

  As compelling as the song was, however, by 1991, Jackson felt the production was a bit behind the times. “To me, it wasn’t contemporary enough,” he acknowledged. “So I had Teddy go in and kind of update the sounds.” Bottrell understood Jackson’s reasoning. While he could have been territorial about the track, he generously passed it along and was impressed with what Riley and Jackson came up with. “When Michael suggested Teddy do a version, I had no problem,” said Bottrell. “Hey, it’s all about the writing, Teddy’s version rocks and sounds like the ’90s, whereas mine was stuck in the ’80s. Everything was in divine order.”

  The final version of “Dangerous” wasn’t the New Jack Swing of Bobby Brown. It was more industrial and dark. The long in
tro feels like entering an enormous steel mill or factory—as if the song were being created in the depths of a fiery furnace. The tension builds as the metallic pounding gradually grows closer and louder. These are the sounds that inspired the industrial center of the album cover.

  When the beat finally hits, it hits with force. It raises the hair on your arms. With the factory noises still looming, it pounds relentlessly, the snare popping with every swing.

  Jackson, meanwhile, narrates in a low whisper, as if the listener were being let in on a secret. His confession is about a woman who has seduced and entrapped him. “Deep in the darkness of passion’s insanity,” he says, “I felt taken by lust’s strange inhumanity.” Like “Billie Jean” and “Dirty Diana,” the tension is in Jackson’s indecision. He is torn. He describes her as “divinity in motion”; yet he is also fearful of where it might lead. “I never knew but I was walking the line,” he sings, an oblique allusion to Johnny Cash. The tension of the narrative builds until it explodes into the one-word chorus: dangerous.

  The song is a classic femme fatale story. Susan Fast reads it as “a retreat from reality, from real-world problems, into theatricality, to the presentation of stylized, more two-dimensional characters, a tough-guy barrier that safely distances Jackson from the world of hurt he has explored throughout the record.” This makes some sense, as Jackson literally lifts lines from the 1953 MGM classic The Band Wagon, starring Fred Astaire (a film that also inspired the short film for “Smooth Criminal”). Like “Smooth Criminal,” “Dangerous” is, at least partly, a cinematic genre song. Yet the sound and feel of the latter song lend it a certain authenticity. There is real lust, trepidation, fear, even anger in Jackson’s vocal (it marks the first time he ever swore on a record). Listen to the gasps and percussive breaths. “Jackson’s hard exhalations,” noted Fast, “brilliantly placed on beats one and two…[represent] one of the most intense moments I’ve ever encountered on a record.”