In this month of pop madness we should take another look at one of the finest
and most often mislabeled groups in music history: The Jackson 5. Because they
recorded for Motown and clearly had enough soul to start their own branch of
heaven, people had (and still have) a tendency to stamp "R&B" on their dossier
and file 'em. They were five young boys who could get down and get funky with
Sly & The Family Stone, Tower Of Power and Funkadelic without looking like a
poor man's anything, and yet I challenge you to listen to their albums, look
me in the eyes and tell me they weren't a terrific pop group. You can't.
All I know for sure is I took a lot of crap for having Jackson 5 records, living
in an all-white suburb of Seattle like I did, and I'm ashamed to say I started
to hide them after a while. Just until my friends would leave. Looking at the
historic record makes me scratch my chin and wonder, though... Those guys were
all over the Pop charts. Betcha at least half of my tormentors were
hiding
copies of "ABC" under their beds, too. Two-faced jerks!
Berry Gordy's Motown label had come through the 1960s victorious, with a rich
history of hit records and big stars like Smokey Robinson & The Miracles, The
Four Tops, Martha & The Vandellas, The Temptations, Junior Walker & The All-
Stars,
Marvin Gaye and, of course, their centerpiece: Diana Ross & The Supremes. As
the 70s neared, things were changing, and Gordy knew the old stable wasn't going
to keep winning the double crown of R&B and Pop chart success. Gordy
needed a new horse.
Who would have thought it would be five young boys from Gary, Indiana with a
lead singer barely old enough to drink orange juice legally?
[Pictured: Berry Gordy with the J5.]
The Jackson 5, five brothers ranging in ages from 11 to 18 with the youngest,
Michael, being the focal point and the biggest talent, were unlike other acts
Berry Gordy had discovered over the years. In fact, the story goes that Diana
Ross discovered the Jackson clan with the help of the mayor of Gary, but I
digress. Most had possessed the talent but no clue of what to do on a stage.
In the Jackson 5, Gordy found himself in charge of a group that not only sang
in perfect, tight, soulful harmonies but also knew exactly how to work a crowd.
Complete with a front man who was a cute little boy loaded with charisma, and
that would translate to heavy record sales to that most desirable demographic:
young girls. And Tiger Beat covers. And lunch pails. And cereal boxes!! And
guest shots on Love, American Style!!!
Wait... I don't know if that one happened. I just got swept up in what must
have
been similar to Gordy's excitement. I mean this little 11 year old who
looked more like 9 could sell a love song like he was 30. Ka-ching.
Gordy was in the middle of being sued by one of his former production teams, the
famous Holland/Dozier/Holland, and this got him to thinking. Berry Gordy was
a lot of things, but "sucker" wasn't one of 'em. Did he really want
to set himself up for that again?
Of course not. So why make stars of the producers this time around, as he had
always
done in the past? His plan was quite clever. He brought in a group of three
musician/producers that fit his vision for the J5, but he included himself in
the group. Instead of crediting the production and writing to their individual
names, Gordy credited to a faceless, single name. And so Fonce Mizell
(bassist),
Freddie Perren (pianist) and Deke Richards (guitarist), along with Berry Gordy,
became known as The Corporation. Other producers would work with the J5 here
and
there, some with great success (most notably Hal Davis, who produced "I'll Be
There"),
but the lion's share of the work was done by those four. In another odd move,
possibly
to complete the break from the Motown of old and the transition to the new
model, the
transplendant house band wasn't used. Instead, LA session musicians got the
work.
Let's jump ahead to 2001 for a moment, because Motown has just released all ten
Jackson
5 albums on five CDs. When I say all ten, I'm talking about the unbroken string
before
solo careers, tabloid nastiness and various other stresses caused a decades-long
break
before a short-lived reunion. The CDs are 24-bit remasters with crystal clear
sound
and booklets that contain some nice photos, both of the group and of the
original album
covers. Each double-album CD selling for the same price as a typical single CD,
this
is a hell of a bargain. Add the bonus tracks that each disc has and it becomes
the deal
of the year. The best thing about it is that it makes it possible for the casual
fan,
the radio listener who sings along with "I Want You Back," "ABC" and "Mama's
Pearl," to
take an inexpensive risk and discover just how consistently exciting the Jackson
5 could be.
The first pairing in the series is Diana Ross Presents The Jackson Five / ABC
.
The album opens with an odd reading of "Zip A Dee Doo Dah," but quickly redeems
itself
with The Corporation's first offering, "Nobody," the first example of the
melding of
funk and pop that would define the J5 sound. Of course, the big excitement sits
at
track three. "I Want You Back" raced up both the R&B and Pop charts, landing at
the top of each. The rest of the album is almost as good, including a cover of
Sly
and the Family Stone's "Stand" that is at least as interesting as the original.
Some prefer it because of the brothers' use of vocal harmonies to create a wall
of
sound as a replacement for instruments you are expecting from exposure to Sly's
version.
A confusing surprise is the inclusion of the Holland/Dozier/Holland penned Four
Tops
classic, "Standing In The Shadows Of Love," which you'd think would defeat
Gordy's
purpose for creating The Corporation, but there it is and it sounds mighty fine.
Their second album, ABC, gave them their second #1 on both charts with the title
track,
which, in places, sounds quite similar to their first #1. Like that's
never
happened before, right? "A-B-C - Easy as 1-2-3 - Do ray mi - That's how easy
love can be."
I mean, how could you not fall in love with such a sweet, bubblegummy, naive
sentiment?
Especially when it's hung on bouncy funk music as sunny and happy as this. They
follow
right up with more gum in the form of "2-4-6-8," another bouncy one in which
little
Michael, during a bridge, shouts out "I may be a little fella but I have a heart
as
big as Texas! I have all the love a man can give ya, and maybe a little bit
extra!"
It's really hard not to laugh, but the song is catchy as the flu and Michael's
performance
is pure dynamite. Covers of Stevie Wonder and Funkadelic and a handful of songs
written
especially for them fill out the album, each one performed like it's the most
important
song ever created. The bonus track, "Oh, I've Been Blessed," is an outtake that
would
have done just as well on radio as any other J5 track. This is an incredible 2-
fer.
Third Album / Maybe Tomorrow is the second 2-fer in the series. Third
Album was
released in August of 1970, less than three months after ABC, back in the days
when the
philosophy was "strike when the iron is hot," as compared to today's "milk every
penny
out of a release before putting out another." It also had a lot to do with
where the last
single was currently sitting on the charts or, more specifically, if it
was sitting
on the charts at all. Time to get another one up there. Third Album opens with
the beautiful
ballad, "I'll Be There," which wasted no time in rocketing to #1 on the Pop
charts, and it
follows up with the medium tempo pop gem "Ready Or Not (Here I Come)." Then
begins a slide
into something of a slower and more mystique-laden atmosphere. "Bridge Over
Troubled Water"
seems out of place and terribly over-produced, with one of the older brothers
(probably
Jermaine) singing beautifully but fighting the arrangement for space in the
soundscape.
Deke Richards' "Can I See You In The Morning" continues the slower tempo and the
reverb
mist but to much better effect, and it offers an uptempo break now and then.
Richards was
a member of The Corporation, but he was personally credited for this song, again
derailing
the entire point of The Corporation. Go figure.
On a personal note, I liked this song so
much I searched for it in various search engines and found little mention of it
beyond
track lists. I'm surprised a song of this quality didn't find an audience in
1970.
"Goin' Back To Indiana" did, however. A standard three chorder (think of Bob
Seger's "Old Time
Rock And Roll") that does get your feet moving, it also gives us a chance to
hear Tito Jackson's
guitar, as Michael calls out for him to take a solo. The solo itself is fairly
basic 70s
wah wah stuff, but the noodling he does through the rest of the song fairly
smokes. Third
Album had another prize for the Corporation. "Mama's Pearl" hit the top of the
Pop charts and
would, in fact, be the last J5 song to do so, though they were far from done
with the rest of
the chart slots, and of course Michael would later have his own private elevator
to the top
and a penthouse there. The album finishes off with "Reach In," "The Love I Saw
In You Was Just A
Mirage" and "Darling Dear," none of which hold up to J5 standards... which means
they
would have been singles on the albums of most acts of the era but pale next to
good J5 material.
Maybe Tomorrow, like Third Album, begins with a ballad. Unfortunately
the ballad isn't
on par with "I'll Be There," so it ends up the equivalent of a weak tee shot,
leaving the J5
with a lot of work to do. Still, the song went to #20 on the pop charts. Musta
rolled a lot
on the fairway. "Never Can Say Goodbye" scores, of course, going all the way to
#2, but the
anemic cover of "16 Candles" is more representative of the tone of Maybe
Tomorrow's ballads.
Of course, there's some kink factor here in "Blue Skies" because the
overwhelming instrument
in the mix is a theremin, of all things. Not that it works or anything, mind
you. It takes
an average ballad and makes it creepy. And then the J5 are back in the groove
with "My Little
Baby" and hope is restored just like that. It's got the groove, it's got the
chop, it's got
Michael's barely sub-chipmunk soulgrowl and the answers of his brothers in
perfect harmony.
"It's Great To Be Here" is about as good for all the same reasons, and by this
point you've
forgotten all about the drek from earlier in the album. The string continues
with "Honey
Chile" and ya know, I think Michael may have actually sucked in some helium
because even he
didn't sing this high. The 24-bit technology stands out on this track because,
if you turn
it up like you know y'oughta, the bass kicks your ass good and proper. "I Will
Find A Way"
follows, sung by one of the older brothers. Not a bad song, but clearly the
monsters were
saved for the pipsqueak with the pipes. The final two tracks are rarities from
The
Corporation, "Sugar Daddy" and "I'm So Happy." According to a few reliable
sources, these
were the last contributions from The Corporation before they dissolved the
partnership and
went their separate ways.
For their final act of 1971, the J5 did a TV variety special, a homecoming
concert and
an album all rolled into one with Goin' Back To Indiana. The whole show
is on the
first half on another 2-fer, backed with Lookin' Through The Windows.
The WHOLE
show. That means the comedy segues by Bill Cosby, Tommy Smothers, Rosie Greer
and others.
Most of it was obviously visual humor for the television audience, so it loses
quite a bit
in the translation. Some of it is good fun, though, especially the Cosby
narrated (rapped,
really) "The Day Basketball Was Saved," and it's only a short batch of tracks
until the
real meat, which is the concert in Gary, Indiana. The sound is as good as it
could be and
the performance is nearly perfect. Best of all, the energy from the stage has
the crowd
in hysterics, which circles back and feeds the boys on stage, and the whole
thing is just
one big electrified happening. This is a packed house and though you can't see
the show,
you can tell by crowd reactions when great showmanship is in progress, and all
five boys
clearly had their acts together.
Lookin' Through The Windows was unique in that it didn't come out in 1971.
Motown slipped
a little and it didn't come out until 1972. This isn't one of their better
known albums,
but it deserves attention. It's crammed with solid tunes, a few of which are
leftovers
from The Corporation ("Don't Let Your Baby Catch You," "If You Have To Move A
Mountain" and
"To Know." There are also some interesting cover selections, the most
unexpected of which
would be Jackson Browne's "Doctor My Eyes." It comes down to personal taste as
to which
version is better. At the very least, the Jackson 5's version is interesting.
Ashford &
Simpson's "Ain't Nothin' Like The Real Thing" sounds near-perfect, both in sound
quality
and interpretation. This underrated little record becomes irresistible as a 2-
fer with
Goin' Back To Indiana and should be picked up as soon as possible.
Skip ahead a whole year (which is like 20 years in J5 time) to 1973 and the
release of
Skywriter, available now as a 2-fer with Get It Together, which is
-
surprise surprise - also from 1973. Skywriter sounds completely different from
all
the albums that have come before. It's hard to put your finger on, but the
music rocks
more than it pops, for starters, and maybe part of the surprise is that nothing
really
jumps out as a single (and nothing did). A new Jackson 5 emerges, with a deeper
understanding
of emotion at the expense of catchy bubblegum pop hooks. Former members of the
supposedly
defunct Corporation show up to write and produce songs under their own names,
and the overall
result is fairly decent tunes but nothing with "hit" written all over it... or
even scrawled
on the bottom of it in invisible ink. There's a feeling here, too, in later
tracks, that
over-production of the disco variety is creeping in, though the beat is only
semi-evident
in "I Can't Quit Your Love." Another bit of foreshadowing is taking place:
Michael's voice
is changing from tiny chipmunk to bigger chipmunk, which is pretty much where it
is to this
day. The final track, "You Made Me What I Am," is a big breath of classic J5
air with all
the funky elements in place and Michael in top form.
The title track of Get It Together skips all formalities of evolution and jumps
right into the disco inferno. The album is segued together like a mix tape,
which is very
effective, as are the dance tracks. Repetitive but hot as all these car stereos
in my
trunk is
"Hum Along And Dance," which runs a mighty long 8:37, but if you're blitzed and
moving your
private parts in a frenzy on a mirror ball-lit disco floor, who cares? Not I!
It's got
tribal drumming, chanting, distorted guitar meltdowns... It's sort of the Inna
Gadda Da Vida
of funk. "Mama Got A Brand New Thing (Don't Say No)" is gospel singing, in
style if
not lyrically. The brothers are all equally involved in it, their voices
weaving and finally
joining in their classic harmony. "You Need Love Like I Do (Don't You)" is
built almost
entirely on one chord yet remains interesting because of - what else - the
dynamic vocals
of the brothers. The song segues into the album's best song and the official
announcement
of J5 discodom, "Dancing Machine," which remains one of a small handful of disco
era songs
that are truly interesting all these years later. The CD closes with a trio of
bonus tracks,
"Pride and Joy," "Love's Gone Bad" and "Love Is The Thing You Need," songs that
were recorded
during sessions for these two albums but didn't make the cut - not for lack of
quality but
for lack of space - and showed up later on collections.
By 1974's Dancing Machine, the J5 had been putting out records for five
years.
Michael's voice had changed from glass shattering high to "is that really a
guy?" high,
The Corporation had officially disbanded but former members were still
occasionally
getting behind the sound board in the studio, and the group had changed
direction from
funky gum to funky pre-disco. The ballad quotient had also grown and the number
of top 10
hits had dropped way off. The previous album had surprised everyone in the J5
camp by
charting "Dancing Machine," so they made two shrewd moves: they named their next
album
Dancing Machine and they included a radio friendly (meaning under 3 minute)
version of
the song. This time the song went to the #2 spot on the pop charts. It was the
only song
like it on an album populated by long and sometimes repetitious tracks and
syrupy ballads
like "It All Begins And Ends With Love."
The second half of this 2-fer is Moving Violations, an 1975 album that
opens with disco
("Forever Came Today"), segues into disco (the title track), moves straight into
disco
("You Were Made Especially For Me"), takes a break for a funky little tune
called "Honey Love"
that... well, could easily get asses moving in a disco, moves on to "Body
Language (Do The
Dance Of Love)," which needs no explanation... Tell ya what, let's just cut to
the quick and
call Moving Violations a disco album. Is it a good one? Beats the crap out of
most of the
disco albums released in 1975. The thing about the J5 is they could have done a
folk album
and, by virtue of their incredible harmonies, it would have been a candidate for
folk album
of the year. So yes, Moving Violations is fine disco, and as Dancing Machine
was clearly
moving in this direction, it's a very coherent single CD 2-fer.
Okay, my bias is clear. I loved the early Jackson 5 because the songs not only
had soul and
a funk element, they had bubblegum stuck all over them. It never took much to
get me to
confess that my collection of bubblegum music is kept very near my stereo at all
times.
Therefore, for me, the first two of these 2-fers are indispensable, and I feel
nearly as
strongly about the third because of the live concert in Indiana, which is just a
blast to
listen to. The final two CDs each have their good points, but they're mostly
going to be
of interest to those who are into dance music (disco in particular) or people
who just want
to own the full set. Motown's single disc pricing makes that fairly easy. 10
albums for the
price of 5, and all with bonus tracks and crystal clear sound. One listen to
these CDs will
dispel the myth that the Jackson 5 were a singles group. Yes, they had a lot of
successful
singles, but that tag is usually slapped on a group that makes albums with one
good song and
a lot of filler. Especially on the first three CDs, which encompass the first
six albums,
there just isn't much filler to be found. Sure, that says a lot for The
Corporation's
writing and producing talents, as well as the writing and producing of the
others that came
in for sessions, but it speaks volumes about the Jackson 5, five young siblings
from Gary,
Indiana, who could take an average song and make it leap off the turntable.
