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SOUND
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Poor judgment leaves Jackson even less 'Invincible' ROSS RAIHALA Originally published Nov. 9, 2001
Most people have a judgment switch inside their head, that little voice inside that says everything from "maybe white jeans aren't the best look for me" to "perhaps it would not be a great idea to jump off the Space Needle."
Michael Jackson does not have that switch. He had it surgically removed at some point in the late '80s during a routine lip replacement and eyebrow reconstruction.
If he were still alive, convicted serial killer Richard Speck -- a man who somehow managed to grow a pair of breasts, snort coke and make a homemade porn tape while in prison -- would surely say to Jackson: "Dude, you kind of, like, freak me out."
As if the world needs any more proof that Wacko Jacko has long since earned that unfortunate nickname, the 43-year-old walking sideshow has finally released a new album. Years in the making and upwards of $30 million spent to record it, "Invincible" finally hit stores last week.
Had Jackson showed some restraint and perhaps even a smidgen of humility, "Invincible" could have done wonders for his career. Somewhere in the 77-minute, 16-song disc, there's a fierce, fascinating and almost relevant 45-minute, 10-song collection of tunes that would have re-established Jackson as a pop-music hero.
Instead, "Invincible" is the final proof that no one ever acts as an external judgment switch for Jackson, no one dares to say "no" to the man memorably dubbed by one British newspaper as "Old Meltface."
Speaking of that face, a highly suspect version of it fills the cover of "Invincible." As anyone who has caught a glimpse of the real deal on television can attest, the Michael Jackson of 2001 looks absolutely, positively nothing like the digitally manipulated piece of artwork staring back at us from this CD.
Actually, Jackson's rapid-fire dance moves come in handy these days to help hide that mug from prolonged viewing, lest people realize he's morphed himself into a combination of Dorian Gray's hidden picture, Freddy Krueger after a teen-slaying bender and Dave Roever, the Christian motivational speaker whose face was burned beyond recognition in the Vietnam War.
Largely produced by R&B superstar Rodney Jerkins, the music inside ranges from fantastic ("Unbreakable") to passable ("You Are My Life") to embarrassingly dreadful ("The Lost Children," complete with -- eeek -- a youth choir).
Like many of his other post-"Thriller" hits, the first single "You Rock My World" sounds unexceptional at first listen, Michael Jackson on autopilot. But after the 10th or 20th or even 50th spin, it takes on that magical, almost timeless aura of Jackson classics such as "The Way You Make Me Feel" or "Remember the Time."
But, Jackson being Jackson, he inexplicably starts the song with a bizarre spoken-word intro that features actor Chris Tucker and Jackson attempting to mack on a foxy lady. Is there a place on this planet or any other that such a conversation could actually exist? Wouldn't the woman in question run away screaming or, possibly, move in close only to see if that rumor about Jackson's removable nose is true?
If you can overlook said intro, the song arrives in the midst of a pretty remarkable run of "Invincible" tunes that peaks with "Speechless," a gorgeous ballad written and produced by Jackson alone. Unfortunately, at that point the record's only half done, with Jackson turning in half-baked funk songs such as "2000 Watts" and yet another please-leave-me-alone whiner in "Privacy."
When "Invincible" gets dull, you can always page through the booklet, which features photos of Jackson wearing a frightening geometric blouse that even TV's "The Golden Girls" would've rejected as too tacky.
And then there's yet another fawning personal thank you from Jackson to Elizabeth Taylor. Last time around, on Jackson's 1995 release "HIStory Book 1," he went as far as to digitally insert himself in a vintage Taylor portrait from "Cleopatra." It's clear to the world that Jackson and Taylor are best buds, so perhaps next time he could just settle for a private e-mail and a nice ham delivered to La Taylor's compound.
To promote "Invincible," Jackson delivered a one-two punch of botched live appearances: a poorly organized, much-criticized self-tribute in September (an edited version of which will air Tuesday night on CBS) and a headline appearance at a 12-hour(!) Sept. 11 charity show held last month in Washington, D.C. -- a performance Salon.com dubbed "the worst benefit concert ever!"
Still, it's not too late. "Invincible" entered the charts this week at No. 1 (albeit with an underwhelming 366,300 copies sold).
If Jackson would just act normal for a minute and admit he can make a mistake ... who knows what new heights to which he could scale.
Alas, in an interview earlier this week with a London newspaper, Jackson claimed that he is infected with, oh yes, anthrax.
"They're going to test me and the children for anthrax. We're all very, very sick right now ... My chest burns very, very much. It's hard to breathe. And when I swallow, it stings."
"Invincible," indeed.
Ross Raihala covers music for The Olympian. Send news and Top 10 lists to OlyRoss@aol.com. The Olympian Copyright 2001 back to main SOUND AFFECTS index
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