Michael Jackson
Blood On The Dancefloor

THE REVIEW

As a child, idealizing the figure of Peter Pan, I always had a soft spot for the art of Michael Jackson. Watching him dance, disappear among the shooting stars from his glittering gloves, seeing him sing with anger and grit, well... it fascinated me. "Moonwalker" was a classic to dance to until we broke our legs, my friend and I. But then, as I grew older, I started appreciating him less and less. Not because of his private and sexual life, no. But because of his conforming, musically speaking, to his own music, becoming a victim of himself. Then, whether or not he wanted to give credence to the rumors about his alleged "obsessions", well, that's another story: it falls within marketing.

Blood on the Dance Floor is part of the downward trajectory of a multicolored and multifaceted boy, without his own identity or perhaps with too fragile a character. A boy who has recently made patheticism his reason for living. This album can be described with a single adjective: useless. Perhaps even pathetic. And why not, GAUDY.

Not a single track, I say, NONE, is worth saving: the title track is truly dull, and the subsequent four tracks require a great sacrifice from the listener to be digested: an atrocious mix of techno-pop-dance. Perhaps the best (among the worst) is "Is It Scary". Then darkness. Nothingness. Forgetfulness.
The rest of the CD, in fact, and I'm serious, from track 6 onward, is based on various remixes of more or less recent hits of the Gary singer. Naturally, said remixes would make a great impression in the tackiest discos of the worst neighborhoods. There's something for every taste: from "Scream" to the originally beautiful "Earth Song," even reaching the latest greatest hit, "You Are Not Alone." Which loses all its melody and sweetness to make room for top-notch electronic sampling. Oh yes, a great job.

I would like to say "faded," that would be a compliment. Instead, it's really dark, black, like Michael's natural color, like the color he denied but dares to defend in public, like the color of immortal artists of the caliber of Ray Charles and James Brown. Like the color of those with a powerful voice like Aretha Franklin.
Michael, as a child, had a great "black" voice, which promised so much. Over the years, the pitch has remained, but the voice has not.
In short, the color black influences Jackson's present and recent past. Had he had dark skin, he definitely would have shone more in the darkness that surrounds him.