THRILLER
1982; Rating: 3.03/pi
Composition: ++ / Lyrics: − / Production: ++ / Innovation: ++
- 01 Wanna Be Starting Something [A]
- 02 Baby Be Mine [A+]
- 03 The Girl Is Mine [B]
- 04 Thriller [A]
- 05 Beat It [A+]
- 06 Billie Jean [A+]
- 07 Human Nature [A]
- 08 P.Y.T. [A]
- 09 The Lady in My Life [B+]
Here it is. The 8 trillion ton cosmic gorilla, devourer of galaxies, that looms over the world of pop music to this day. The one thing that keeps Michael Jackson from being ripped apart by a crazed mob of tabloid readers.
If I handed you the lyrics to “Wanna Be Starting Something” and told you it was a top 10 hit and the opening track on the biggest selling album of all time, you would laugh in my face. Assuming you were some kind of troglodyte who had never heard the song, that is. (A refresher: it’s the one with the bizarre Gentle Giant-esque guitar solo and the “HEE-HAW!” donkey chorus that appears at strategic moments.)
Okay, so most of the album is fairly normal, but it’s still full of suprises—that is, things that would be surprising if they weren’t so imprinted in the very DNA of anyone born after 1982. But if you’ve previously dismissed the album as an overplayed, overhyped relic, you may find there’s more here than you realized. Look at “Baby Be Mine”, one of only two songs on the album not to be released as a single. In any normal universe, such a track would be the moldiest form of filler, but “Baby Be Mine” is an outright highlight of the album, with a melody seemingly delivered to Jackson by a platoon of fluttering cherubs—let us not speculate on their fate on his hands.
Sure, you can find things to whine about. Lead single “The Girl Is Mine” is a totally cornball Paul McCartney collaboration that somehow was the album’s lead single. You can embrace it for its lovable inanity, or just pretend it doesn’t exist. Same for the ridiculous “spooky” Vincent Price narration stuck onto the end of the otherwise fantastic “Thriller”. Oh, but those complaints are so small and feeble in the face of the sheer awesomeness of “Beat It”, with its unforgettable Van Halen riff and solo. And we still haven’t gotten to “Billie Jean”, the crown jewel, not to mention the finest expression of Jackson’s creepy man-child rock star paranoia.
But don’t forget lesser hits like “P.Y.T.” and “Human Nature”, which are overshadowed here but would be highlights in the career of any other 80s star (or, for that matter, on any of Jackson’s other albums, since he never came even close to equaling this one. And how could he?)
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