Man in the Music

by Joseph Vogel

  14. “LITTLE SUSIE”

  Written by Michael Jackson

  Produced by Michael Jackson

  “Little Susie” was originally written in 1979, but there is no way it would have appeared on a Michael Jackson album in the ’80s. It was too left-of-center, too macabre, and definitely not a hit. “What it’s doing on an album with Dallas Austin and Jam and Lewis is anyone’s guess,” wrote Rolling Stone. That, no doubt, is why the track was shelved for so long. By 1995, however, Jackson was a different artist—less commercially driven, more willing to take risks. “Little Susie” is another testament to his depth and range. “If he ever decides to stop being a pop singer,” wrote music critic Anthony Wynn, “this song [is] proof he could compose music for movies and seriously win Oscars for it. It’s sad, haunting, beautiful.”

  Jackson began working on the song for HIStory in 1994. The song recalled “Sunrise, Sunset” from 1971 musical film Fiddler on the Roof and featured Broadway-style orchestration. Initially, like “Childhood” and “Smile,” Jackson had live orchestration on the song. Ultimately, however, he asked Steve Porcaro to redo it on a synthesizer.

  For the nearly two-minute prelude, Jackson sampled the “Pie Jesu” movement of Maurice Duruflé’s majestic masterpiece Requiem, Op. 9. Based in the plainchant tradition of the Catholic church, it once again shows Jackson drawing on the sacred to create a wider, deeper canvas than pop music typically allows. It also establishes a more somber mood for the story he is about to tell. “Pie Jesu” eventually fades, as the listener hears the cranking sound of a music box, followed by the voice of a young girl humming. The effect is both enchanting and disturbing.

  Then comes the tragic story, narrated in what has to be one of Jackson’s most moving vocal performances (captured vividly by Bruce Swedien). The lyrics read like a combination of William Blake and Edgar Allan Poe. Much of Little Susie’s life remains mysterious. We learn that her father abandoned her and her mother died. Only one man really knew her—but he couldn’t prevent her tragic fate. Instead, as he sees her limp body on the floor, he can only reach down and close her eyes. What matters in the song is what led to her death.

  For years, Jackson relays, she sings a beautiful tune but goes unheard (“She knew no one cared”). The ongoing loneliness she feels eventually leads to despair. “To be damned to know hoping is dead, and you’re doomed,” he sings. “Then to scream out and nobody’s there.” His delivery captures the horror of feeling invisible and unloved. He also paints a gruesome portrait of her death (“Lift her with care, oh, the blood in her hair”), though exactly how she died isn’t made clear. Did she kill herself? Was it an accident? Was she murdered? The full story is left a mystery.

  Jackson was inspired by Thomas Hood’s 1844 poem “Bridge of Sighs,” about a young woman who jumped to her death from Waterloo Bridge in London. The poem includes lines that closely mirror lyrics in Jackson’s song: “Take her up tenderly, / Lift her with care; / Fashion’d so slenderly/ Young, and so fair!”

  Another source of inspiration was a 1972 photograph by Gottfried Helnwein called “Lichtkind” (Child of Light), which depicts a young girl’s lifeless, bandaged body on a stark wooden floor. Rooted in German expressionism, “Lichtkind” was part of a series of photographs and watercolor paintings called Beautiful Victims. Jackson was deeply moved by the series and included “Lichtkind” in the booklet for HIStory. In the late 1980s, while on his Bad World Tour, he had met the artist in person. Helnwein described Jackson as “extremely beautiful, fragile, and totally unearthly. I always had the feeling that he is not standing on the floor, but slightly floating on air.”

  “Little Susie” was a testament to the suffering, sadness, and pure spirit Jackson sensed in Helnwein’s portrait. It was also a cautionary tale about abandonment and neglect. She died, the song suggests, because she wasn’t loved. It is one of the most gut-wrenching songs Jackson ever sang.

  15. “SMILE”

  Written by Charlie Chaplin, John Turner, and Geoffrey Parsons

  Produced by David Foster and Michael Jackson

  Michael Jackson’s love of Charlie Chaplin went back decades. He watched and studied all his films; he devoured biographies of the icon; he drew pictures of him (the earliest sketch was made when he was just nine years old); he dressed up as the Little Tramp for photo shoots; he visited Chaplin’s widow, Oona, in Switzerland, and even tried to purchase his idol’s home.

  Jackson identified with the entertainer in numerous ways: his rags-to-riches story, his stratospheric success and fame, his ambition, and his eventual ostracism and exile. “I just love him to death,” the artist confessed in a 1982 interview. “The little tramp, the whole gear and everything, and his heart—everything he portrayed on the screen was a truism. It was his whole life. He was born in London, and his father died an alcoholic when he was six. He roamed the streets of England, begging, poor, hungry. All this reflects on the screen and that’s what I like to do, to bring all of those truths out.”

  As a dancer and student of movement, Jackson especially appreciated how Chaplin could convey great emotion through silent expression. “How could you not admire his genius,” he raved. “He was the king of pathos….He knew how to make you laugh and cry at the same time….I relate to him. I sometimes feel like I am him.”

  For a time, Chaplin, like Jackson, was the biggest star of his time. His landmark movies—including The Kid, The Gold Rush, City Lights, and Modern Times (all of which Chaplin both directed and starred in)—were hugely popular and remain among the most significant films of the silent era.

  “Smile” came from Modern Times. The original instrumental song played during the poignant final scene as Chaplin and Ellen (played by Paulette Goddard), after enduring seemingly endless disappointments and hardships, walk toward the horizon together, arm in arm. The song was composed by Chaplin himself. Songwriters John Turner and Geoffrey Parsons later gave it lyrics and a title. It was first sung by Nat King Cole in 1954.

  Jackson had long considered covering the song. After discussing it with producer David Foster in 1994, he finally decided to do it. Like “Childhood,” “Smile” was recorded at the Hit Factory with the New York Philharmonic Orchestra. In fact, the two songs were done on the same day. According to Rob Hoffman, the orchestra “rehearsed a bit without vocals in, then during the first take Michael sang, [he] just about knocked them out of their chairs.” Jeremy Lubbock, who oversaw the orchestration, concurred: “I think I’ve worked with everyone,” he said, “but my most memorable recording session remains Michael Jackson’s ‘Smile’ from the HIStory album. Great song, great artist, painless!”

  The performance was so moving the orchestra gave the artist a standing ovation. “During the recording,” Bruce Swedien noted, “[they] had been listening to Michael sing through their individual headphones. When Michael walked out in the studio…every member of the fifty-piece orchestra stood up and tapped their music stands with their bows, as loud as they could. Jeremy [Lubbock] stood on the conductor’s podium and also applauded as loud as he could. I was applauding by myself in the control room as loud as I could!”

  Being a perfectionist, Jackson insisted on recording his vocals again the next day. He eventually did fourteen takes, but ended up using the first one. That performance has become a classic in Jackson’s catalog. The New York Times called it “a dramatic tour de force. Over quivering strings and a nonchalant piano, Jackson sounds like he’s barely holding back tears. His voice trembles, breaks, pulls together and heads for another emotional brink. It ends with an indrawn breath, a sob on the verge of a crying jag.”

  In the outro, Jackson hums, laughs, and whistles his way to the end. It completes a turbulent, emotionally exhausting journey, from the rage and fury of “Scream” to the temporary solace and acceptance of “Smile.” Like the best Chaplin performances, the final track somehow felt joyful and
painful at the same time (“a smile—and perhaps, a tear,” as Chaplin famously put it). It was the best tribute he could have given his longtime hero.

  6

  BLOOD ON THE DANCE FLOOR

  (1997)

  If you wanna see

  Eccentric oddities

  I’ll be grotesque before your eyes.

  —MICHAEL JACKSON, “Is It Scary,” 1997

  Two years after the release of HIStory came an unexpected postscript: a collection of five new songs and eight remixes titled Blood on the Dance Floor: HIStory in the Mix. The album was in many ways an anomaly for Jackson. In the United States, its release went virtually unnoticed. There was no elaborate unveiling, no promotion, no big music videos or hit singles. It did do much better abroad, particularly in Europe, where it received more advertising and airplay.

  Because all the songs were written during the Dangerous and HIStory sessions, Blood on the Dance Floor didn’t require the drawn-out, excruciating attention and time Jackson gave his other albums. The quality was still strong, but the result felt less calculated—more raw and experimental, without all the hype and expectations that typically accompanied a Michael Jackson release.

  There has been a great deal of mystery around how the album came about. In a 1998 interview, Michael Jackson acknowledged that he wasn’t much of a fan of remixes. “The least I can say is that I don’t like them,” he said. “I don’t like it that they come in and change my songs completely. But Sony says that the kids love remixes.” Jackson did, however, often express approval of creative engagement with his work, whether in the form of sampling, covers, or club remixes.

  What appealed to him most about Blood on the Dance Floor, though, was the idea of releasing a smaller collection of songs. HIStory was originally intended to have a full sequel (thus, the complete title of the first album: HIStory: Past, Present and Future, Book I). Book II would have been another double-disc record, including more hits and more new songs. But given that the artist was in the middle of a world tour, he knew he wouldn’t have time to come up with a whole new album that was up to his standards.

  A smaller collection of four to five tracks, therefore, appealed to him. It would sustain enthusiasm for the HIStory World Tour and would count as one of the six albums promised to Sony in his 1991 contract. Sony would have preferred a full new record, but knew that was unlikely given Jackson’s protracted creative process. The hybrid album, then, was a compromise: Jackson could release a tightly edited batch of new songs and Sony could tack on some dance remixes.

  Those remixes, eight in total, were all based on tracks from HIStory and were carried out by a range of producers. Probably the best of the bunch was a reggae-infused reworking of “2 Bad” (called the “Refugee Camp Mix”), featuring members of the Fugees. This chapter, however, focuses only on the album’s five new songs.

  Recording for Blood on the Dance Floor commenced in January 1997 during a gap in touring in Montreux, Switzerland. A small crew of musicians and engineers, led by Brad Buxer, worked with Jackson at Mountain Studio, building on the digital audio tapes (DAT) of songs recorded during the Dangerous and HIStory sessions. The tracks were completed at Record Plant in Los Angeles in the spring of 1997.

  About ten or twelve songs were considered, but Jackson ultimately settled on five: the titular “Blood on the Dance Floor” (originally written and recorded with Teddy Riley during the Dangerous sessions); “Morphine” (written and recorded with Brad Buxer during the HIStory sessions); “Superfly Sister” (written and recorded with Bryan Loren during Dangerous); “Ghosts” (written and recorded with Teddy Riley, also during Dangerous); and “Is It Scary” (originally worked on with Teddy Riley and intended for the 1993 movie Addams Family Values; later developed and recorded with Jimmy Jam and Terry Lewis).

  Blood on the Dance Floor officially dropped on May 20, 1997. The title track was released as the lead single two months beforehand. While it performed poorly in the United States (peaking at #43), globally the song was a hit, reaching the Top 10 in fifteen countries. The album as a whole, meanwhile, largely flew under the radar.

  The lack of hype and hoopla, however, seemed to allow some critics to pay attention to the considerable merit of the music. Rolling Stone called it arguably his most “revealing record.” Others saw it as a creative breakthrough. “His singing on the first five tracks of new material has never been so tormented, or audacious,” observed cultural critic Armond White. “Blood on the Dance Floor has the vitality of an intelligence that refuses to be placated….[It] is a throwdown, a dare to the concept of innocuous Black pop.” “There is real pain and pathos in these new songs,” concurred The New York Times’s Neil Strauss: “In keeping with Jackson’s darker mood the music has grown more angry and indignant. With beats crashing like metal sheets and synthesizer sounds hissing like pressurized gas, this is industrial funk….Creatively, Jackson has entered a new realm.”

  Picking up where HIStory’s most intense tracks left off, the album is often shocking in its boldness—both sonically and lyrically. It was Jackson at his darkest. Some even compared the sounds and themes to Nine Inch Nails and Marilyn Manson. The songs told stories of murder, drug addiction, sexual panic, abnormality, paranoia, and decay. They experimented with fusions of industrial funk, EDM, R&B, rock, and Gothic pop.

  It was perhaps the closest Jackson got to a concept album—in essence, an exploration of an individual’s descent into a monstrous world. From the fear and betrayal of the title track to the rage and desperation of “Morphine,” from the vexed reproach of “Superfly Sister” to the metaphorical horror capsules “Ghosts” and “Is It Scary,” Jackson is surveying a fraught reality. There is no “Man in the Mirror” or “Heal the World” here—the only real hope it offers is in its act of holding up a mirror to both the individual and society. It is a dark collection from start to finish; however, it also contains some of Jackson’s most experimental and compelling work.

  In spite of its low profile, Blood on the Dance Floor moved an estimated six million copies, becoming the bestselling remix album of all time.

  THE SONGS

  1. “BLOOD ON THE DANCE FLOOR”

  Written by Michael Jackson and Teddy Riley

  Produced by Michael Jackson and Teddy Riley

  “Blood on the Dance Floor” is classic Michael Jackson: a high-energy, thumping rhythm track with the mystery and intrigue of “Billie Jean” and the film-noir drama of “Smooth Criminal.”

  The song was originally conceived during the Dangerous sessions with producers Teddy Riley and Bill Bottrell. “I thought I’d be a clever salesman,” recalled Bottrell, “and I teased Michael about this great song I had called ‘Blood on the Dance Floor.’ He was out of town and I was trying to tweak the song and this went on for weeks. He was really intrigued, so much so that before he ever heard what I did, he wrote his own ‘Blood on the Dance Floor.’ ” Jackson developed this version with Teddy Riley, believing that Riley had the perfect groove for it.

  Riley’s groove was written in the wake of a visceral tragedy—a friend of his had been murdered at a club. The music absorbed the mood—it was aggressive, ominous, menacing. Jackson had no idea about the events surrounding the song. “He knew nothing about it,” Riley said. “I never told him anything about it.” Yet a couple of weeks later, Riley said he was shocked to learn Jackson’s proposed title for the track: “Blood on the Dance Floor.” Riley got goose bumps. “It was like he prophesied that record. He felt its mood.”

  In the months that followed, “Blood on the Dance Floor” became a priority track for Dangerous. “I remember he came back with this melody,” Riley noted. “ ‘Blood on the dance floor, blood on the dance floor.’ I was like, ‘Wow!’ He came up with these lyrics and harmonies. Then we just started building it up, layer by layer.”

  Riley used a vintage drum machine—the MPC 3000—for the beat
. The snare was compressed to make it pop. It was a sound used throughout the Dangerous album, including on “Remember the Time.” Ultimately, however, the track didn’t make it onto Dangerous. “It wasn’t quite finished,” said Riley. “There were still some vocal parts missing. Michael loved the song, but he would listen to it and say, ‘I like what you did here, but we still need this here.’ He was a perfectionist.”

  “Blood on the Dance Floor” was pulled back out of the vault in January 1997. Jackson was in Montreux, Switzerland, where he had reportedly tried to purchase the home of his longtime idol Charlie Chaplin. In Montreux’s Mountain Studio, Jackson completed his vocals and polished the production. “We took Teddy’s DAT [digital audio tape] [from 1991] and worked it over with a four-man crew,” recalled Brad Buxer. That crew also included HIStory recording engineers Eddie DeLena and Andrew Scheps. It was completed and mixed at Record Plant by Mick Guzauski in February 1997.

  When Riley heard the finished song, he had mixed feelings. “I wished I could’ve been the one to [complete it],” he said. “But Michael knows what he wants, and he was happy with it.” Jackson told Riley he thought “Blood on the Dance Floor” would be a “smash.” He turned out to be right, at least globally. “Blood on the Dance Floor” hit #1 in four countries and reached the Top 10 in at least seventeen (the United States was the exception).