Happy 25th Anniversary to Michael Jackson’s ninth studio album HIStory: Past, Present and Future, Book I, originally released June 20, 1995.
Can you separate an artist from the art?
That seems to be a constant talking point around Michael Jackson in the last year. But what do you do when the art is at the very heart of what you might find worrisome about the artist? What if the art is the direct result of who or what the artist is accused of being? If questionable actions in a factually questionable documentary led you to a certain point of view, could music that tackles these issues head on give you another side to the narrative?
That’s what listeners are privy to with Jackson’s HIStory: Past, Present and Future, Book I album. As the title suggests, this was Jackson’s story, his most personal work. Its creation followed a tumultuous period in Jackson’s life that saw his image and reputation the subject of accusations, rumor and hearsay. Stoically silent through most of the preceding years Jackson answered his critics in the best way he knew: through his music.
Recorded over an eight-month period from September 1994 to March 1995, HIStory sees Jackson stepping out of his isolation and back into the spotlight with a lot on his mind. Here were songs squarely aimed at the tabloid media, absent friends and his response to the accusations leveled at him over the past years.
Packaged as a double disc of greatest hits (HIStory Begins) and new material (HIStory Continues), HIStory allowed you as a listener to look back, and for Michael as an artist to look forward.
Now volumes can, and have, been written about the collection of songs on Disc 1—the greatest hits side of the equation—that spans Jackson’s career from the dizzying disco ecstasy of Off The Wall (1979) through the juggernaut of Thriller (1982) tracks, a selection of the record-setting chart toppers off Bad (1987), and a handful of hits taken from his last outing, Dangerous (1991). Bursting with 15 tracks, there were still obvious omissions.
But despite the obvious safe bet of the inclusion of a Greatest Hits disc, what people wanted to hear was the new material. Not only because it was new Michael Jackson songs, but perhaps more so as this was his first artistic venture since allegations of sexual abuse were leveled against him.
Questions swirled in the lead-up to the release. Would Jackson address the accusations? Would he ignore them and remain insular? Jackson, of course, was in a no-win situation. If he had chosen to simply release an album of dance floor targeted hits, he would be crucified by the press for being detached from reality. And if he did confront the slings and arrows hurled against him, would that be enough, or—as some critics would later argue—too much.
For those that saw Jackson as someone shielded from the real world and lost in a fantasy of his own making, the album is brutally honest and raw, firmly cemented in the reality of what it was like to live through the preceding years. This was his side of the story, HIStory. And Jackson wasn’t pulling any punches.
From the opening track, the industrial distorted introduction of “Scream” blasts through the speakers as if Jackson was rebooting a new chapter in his life. And for those who thought Michael might tread lightly, the first verse showed he was instead going to tackle things head on.
With a hard-hitting beat grounding the track, Michael and his sister Janet trade verses in a unified attack at the injustice, frustration, and pressure that being in the public light delivers.
From the opening lines, Jackson is at his most direct and confronting as he spits out a one-two punch, “Tired of injustice / Tired of the schemes.” He clearly and succinctly lets you know exactly how he feels about everything that has transpired. Jackson confronts the gossip and accusations on everyone’s mind as he sings, “Tired of you telling the story your way / It’s causing confusion, you think it’s OK?” and shows that there is a cost to be paid for editorials that chase sensationalism over facts. Janet adds, “Keep changing the rule while I keep playing the game / I can’t take it much longer, I think I might go insane,” highlighting the mental toll paid for the price of fame.
This is an artist’s response to the idea that if you are in the public eye then everything is fair game. This is Jackson mad as hell and not going to take it anymore. With each passing chant of “Stop pressurin’ me,” the tension builds to the breaking point with Michael and Janet finally lashing out, “Stop fucking with me.”
With its industrial funk hard edge, “Scream” was the answer to those nagging questions. It was Jackson squaring off with the way he had been dragged over the coals and how he wasn’t going to play nice anymore.
This wouldn’t be the only time on the record Jackson would confront the allegations. On the potent groove of “This Time Around,” Jackson rails against those who look for their own gain as he pointedly sings, “Somebody’s out to use me / and then falsely accuse me.” In a searing rhymefest, The Notorious B.I.G. reiterates that betrayal can come from every corner.
Elsewhere on “2 Bad,” over a blistering folly of funk, Jackson bristles “Cryin' wolf ain't like a man / Throwin' rocks to hide your hands.” And on the persona-aware rebuttal “Tabloid Junkie,” he sings perhaps his most powerful statement against a media obsessed with being first over being right with the hooky refrain, “Just because you read it in a magazine or see it on a TV screen / Don’t make it factual.”
Jackson is angry as hell, but the venom he spits isn’t without hooks. As he had exhibited time and time again, Jackson can craft the most infectious melody around lyrics that hold deeper meaning. You’ll find yourself dancing along, singing along, and only when you stop to reflect on the words being sung does it hit you.
Jackson also layers reflection in his words and sometimes an Easter egg that won’t be uncovered for years to come. On “Money” —a song where Jackson squares off with those who use him for their own financial gain, to religious zealots who preach one thing then do the other —he drops in what feels like a throwaway line, the questioning “Insurance? / Where do your loyalties lie? / Is that your alibi? / I don’t think so.”
At the time, it seemed innocuous enough. But years later, when an investigative journalist set out to “nail Jackson to the wall” and revisited the behind-the-scenes machinations of the 1993 allegations and civil settlement, he discovered the settlement that many viewed as damning was somewhat forced upon Jackson by his insurance firm who weighed up the costs of a lengthy trial over the issues of right and wrong.
The anger is warranted and for the most part works. But there is the occasional misfire with the non-too-subtle “D.S.,” a bare bones rocker that sees Jackson throw down against DA Tom Sneddon. It’s one of the rare weaker moments on HIStory.
But the album isn’t purely Jackson looking inwards or exorcising his rage against increasingly hard beats. On the sadly timeless “They Don’t Care About Us,” Jackson takes the injustice and treatment he himself had been subjected to and broadens his focus to the historical mistreatment of minorities. He talks about police brutality, hate crimes, racial profiling, media narratives, and social injustice. And he does so in a way that blends his own experiences with those of the wider community.
Fully aware that a question will forever hang over his head, he addresses the labels people are throwing at him and counters, “I’m tired of being the victim of shame / You’re throwing me in a class with a bad name” followed by an observation that “I can’t believe this is the land from which I came.”
With its constant rhythmic shunt, “They Don’t Care About Us” is a rallying cry. One that gives voice to the ignored and confronts social injustice. It’s no surprise then that in our current time of marches in support of the Black Lives Matter movement, it’s a song that still strikes a chord with many.
Similarly, the opus-like “Earth Song” moves us beyond just one man’s pain and into a poet’s primal scream for the ecology. No stranger to global concerns, Jackson creates a song filled with questioning urgency and power. “Earth Song” begins soft and billowy and builds to a choral crescendo. It’s a song of questioning. A song to snap us out of our stupor. It’s part lullaby and part requiem. Haunting and bombastic. And it’s one of Michael’s most powerful moments as a composer and singer.
A curious inclusion for many was Jackson’s cover of “Come Together.” Originally debuted as the climax to his Moonwalker film, Jackson offers a slight alteration for this new inclusion and delivers a cover on par with The Beatles’ original. It’s also somewhat amusing to see Jackson put his publishing catalog to work.
The quieter moments on the album also are some of its strongest, or at least most intriguing. The raw and reflective “Childhood” has Jackson lamenting a life in the spotlight against a beautiful (and borderline Broadway) orchestra arrangement that Jackson claimed was the song people should listen to if they really wanted to understand him.
Likewise, the haunting simplicity of “Little Susie” melds “Pie Jesu” with “Sunrise Sunset” from Fiddler on The Roof, which seems at odds with the more brash and hard-hitting moments of the album. But as the album unwinds in the final quarter, it works.
The slow-burn R&B of “You Are Not Alone” is catchy and reflective of the mid ‘90s era, and when you hear it you can understand why it was a number one hit. But for me at least, it felt safe and sure, whereas the rest of the album did not.
The titular “HIStory” is a whirling study of ambitious production, as Jackson switches between grounded beats and soaring choruses, whilst taking the listener on an aural history of the world in the process. And it surprisingly works as the joyous motivational moment of uplift on the album.
Perhaps the finest moment of the album, and there are many contenders, comes in the isolation and loneliness of “Stranger in Moscow.” Here Jackson pulls back the curtain and bares his soul as he aches about his “Swift and sudden fall from grace,” and the mental anguish of being “Here abandoned in my fame / Armageddon of the brain.”
“Stranger in Moscow” is one of Jackson’s finest moments on record. It’s haunting, poetic, reflective and beautiful. But like many of the tracks on HIStory, it has been overshadowed by bigger hits or flashier numbers. It really is a masterpiece of composition, arrangement and delivery.
Closing out the album is Jackson’s take on the Chaplin penned “Smile.” Referenced as one of his favorite songs, Jackson also uses it as a bookend to the journey of HIStory. You can see Jackson being drawn to its serene melody and hopeful lyrics, penned by John Turner and Geoffrey Parsons, that beckon him to “Smile / through your heart is aching / Smile / even though it’s breaking.” You can see the appeal. And Jackson delivers an earnest vocal that is moving and offers hope.
HIStory is a journey through the struggles of injustice and the ups and downs of life. It is an album that opens with a “Scream” and ends with a “Smile.” It is a cathartic expression of an artist who was expressing his suffering but also his innate optimism.
At a time when the art has outlived the artist, and Michael Jackson is no longer here to defend himself, it is perhaps the artifact most worth exploring in his expansive canon to get to the heart of his reactions and answers to his critics and what he himself put forward as his defense.
LISTEN: