Making Michael Jackson: Thriller

Thriller by Michael Jackson is one of the biggest albums of all time and for good reason. A masterclass in execution from the King of Pop that set an impossibly high bar for what an album and music video could be. By Felix Rowe

Thriller is not just a classic album; it is the classic album. The archetype by which all else is measured. Totally fresh but absolutely timeless, its release was a cultural event that captured the world’s collective imagination in much the same way that the moon landings did. That might sound a stretch, but just think about it.

Transcending far beyond the music itself, Thriller permeated all aspects of life from fashion to politics, even helping to break down social barriers that had continued to segregate American society. Its unprecedented cultural and historical significance earned it a place in both the Library of Congress’ National Recording Registry and the US National Film Registry.

Thriller is the biggest-selling studio album ever, a feat that will never be bettered. Within a year, it had shifted a staggering 32 million units, and has gone on to sell anywhere from 70 to 110 million in total. It hogged the top spot of the US album charts for almost nine months. And one can only imagine how many red leather jackets were sold in the mid 1980s.

Of course, just because something sells by the bucket load, doesn’t mean it’s any good. But Thriller is the embodiment of both style and substance; instantly accessible pop destined for the radio that oozes credibility. It scooped a record-breaking eight Grammy awards and it produced the most top ten singles of any studio album ever (seven to be exact).

That last particular feat is even more remarkable when you consider that Thriller is a lean collection, containing just nine tracks. But what a nine tracks! Practically every inclusion is a stone cold classic in its own right: Thriller, Billie Jean, Beat It, Human Nature... it reads like a greatest hits.

There’s no room for stodge and that was done by design. From the outset, Jackson was adamant that each song “had to be killer”. Okay, if there’s a law stating that every classic album must contain one dud, then The Girl Is Mine ably fulfils that role. But that’s just nitpicking.

While it might appear to have been beamed down complete from a higher place, Thriller clearly draws upon the wider musical narrative. Its freshness doesn’t alter the fact that Thriller not only takes influence, but borrows liberally from its contemporaries.

Compare, for example, the bass line of R&B chart No.1 Give It To Me Baby by Rick James (released on Motown the year prior) to the song Thriller. And those powerful synth chords at the opening of that song? Apparently directly inspired by the opening synth brass stabs of 1999 (released as a single just a few months before Michael’s own album came out).

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At the time (back when people still bought physical records), industry execs hailed the album for resuscitating the entire record business. It performed so well that anything below 10 million for the follow-up would have been considered a flop. In the event, Bad hit the top spot in 25 countries and has sold at least 20 million copies (probably many more)… yet it still doesn’t even come close.

An event like Thriller could never really happen again – certainly that many physical units would never be shifted in the streaming age. But more than that, it’s hard to think of any other happening in pop music since that has had such cultural impact. Countless male pop stars have followed in his wake: Timberlake, Usher, The Weeknd, Pharrell, Bieber…

But, individual merits aside, there’s no denying they’ve largely traded on rehashing the Thriller template – slick pop, and slicker choreography and big-shouldered leather jackets. Bizarrely, only the Spice Girls immediately spring to mind in having created a global cultural pop phenomenon so genuinely fresh in its time, with an accompanying sense of mania.

The release of Thriller marks a crossroads in MJ’s personal trajectory. Soon after this career milestone, Michael began his well-publicised real-life physical transformation. By the time he returned for 1987’s Bad, he looked notably different and each new alteration in appearance became increasingly identified with a troubled soul.

As early as 1981, Freddie Mercury called a halt on recording sessions with Michael, displeased at having to share the studio with MJ’s pet llama. While he actively nurtured a sense of mystique, Thriller’s aftermath marked the turning point where his lifestyle overshadowed his artistic output.

With each new revelation, it becomes increasingly impossible to separate the music from the man from the myth. We may never rescue the full truth from the web of sensationalism that surrounds him.

Yet focusing purely on the art, just watch any of Thriller’s promos and the overriding feeling is that you’re witnessing something truly special, incredibly rare – unique even, like walking on the moon. What really makes Thriller untouchable to this day is its completeness. It’s the entire package; a feast for all the senses that must be appreciated holistically.

The songs are incredible – truly, staggeringly incredible – but it’s the artwork, the signature dance moves, the videos, the fashion, all the associated stylistic trappings that come together in harmony; not simply embellishment but integral components of the wider whole.

With Thriller, Michael Jackson shook off the tag of Motown child star to adopt the King of Pop persona. Staggeringly forward-thinking, Thriller simultaneously confirmed Michael Jackson as a classic stage entertainer of the old school tradition – the full singing, dancing package who had audiences hanging on his every move.

Its cultural significance cannot be overstated. In the words of veteran producer Quincy Jones: “a young black kid to be the idol of so many millions of kids all over the world, that’d never really happened before.”

Thriller sets the bar for what a pop album, a pop single, and a pop video can be. It didn’t invent any of these artforms, but it mastered them so utterly and totally and completely. And to think the song itself wasn’t even going to be a single.

Michael Jackson: Thriller – the songs

Wanna Be Startin’ Somethin’

The tone is set with sleek electro future-pop, with syncopated bass locked in to a choppy LM-1 drum machine. All the classic Jackson tropes are there – the horn stabs, the primal screaming. It has been covered and sampled multiple times, notably most recently by Rihanna. The lyrics reference Billie Jean, and, yes, apparently MJ really is singing “You’re a vegetable.” Who else could sing a line like that with such conviction? Absolute class and a bold statement of intent.

Baby Be Mine

Rubbery basslines, slinky guitars, horn stabs, and futuristic synth parts interweave between one another in a perfectly choreographed dance. Although a busy arrangement, the clever interplay allows each instrument its space, without overcrowding the other. It’s another precision pop song, so controlled in its grooves, giving MJ a solid foundation to dance all over.

The Girl Is Mine

Cheesier than a weekend in Wensleydale, and with a spoken section that’ll make your toes curl, this mid-tempo plod-along is at least a counterpoint to the taut pop opening the record. Though Macca had no hand in the writing, his character is all over it, and he admirably holds his own vocally. Sure it’s fun, but let’s be honest, it won’t be remembered as either party’s finest work. Ironically, it wasn’t a girl but The Beatles’ publishing rights that they would fight so bitterly over.

Thriller

Or ‘Starlight’ as it might have been called, the title track was written by Rod Temperton specifically for Michael to perform and they settled on ‘Thriller’ for the main hook. From there, its spooky concept evolved into the juggernaut it is. Featuring legendary horror actor Vincent Price on the voiceover, Temperton wrote the words to Price’s section in the taxi on the way to the studio. It’s the album’s seventh single, and the label needed persuading to put it out!

Beat It

Quincy felt the record needed a big rock track like My Sharona, so MJ pulled this one out the bag. Muscular and precise, it’s the perfect rock crossover hit. Who hasn’t played bedroom air guitar along to Eddie Van Halen’s legendary solo? When Quincy first rang Van Halen, he thought it was a prank. Thankfully they convinced him in order to lay down this iconic face-melter. It won Michael the rock fans, and he explored the territory further on later records.

Billie Jean

Pure class and an exercise in restraint, Billie Jean confirmed MJ as the full package: a sophisticated and subtle songwriter. Taking the simple drum groove of Hall & Oates’ I Can’t Go For That as a foundation, key to its majesty is its simplicity and starkness. There’s no clutter, leaving those ice-cold synths exposed to work their magic. Its commercial appeal is strangely at odds with the paranoid tension of the lyrics, but somehow it works.

Human Nature

Co-written by Toto’s Steve Porcaro and performed by the group, cue plenty of cascading synth pads and slinky yacht rock guitars. Human Nature shares the same arm-waving cod pan-humanism as Toto’s totem hit, Africa. This is the obligatory reflective moment in which MJ asks us all to consider our impact on the world, starting with the individual (Heal The World, Man in the Mirror, Earth Song). Totally saccharine, yes, but when it’s this damn good, you can’t help but be swept along.

P.Y.T. (Pretty Young Thing)

A slick pop number that utilises the chipmunk effect popularised in the early noughties by Kanye West et al (incidentally already used by Prince on 1999). Of all the colossal singles on Thriller, this one never reached the same dizzy heights. Certainly it had some stiff competition from the four preceding tracks, but actually PYT is an R&B pop cracker. It would probably be the best track on most albums produced by mere mortals.

The Lady in My Life

Initially, the album closer sets up to be the most forgettable track on offer – a smooth, silky and serviceable ballad penned by Temperton that seemingly succeeds more as a counterpoint to the dance numbers than on its own merits. But the emotion builds palpably, and Louis Johnson’s groovy bass (spiced up with clever syncopated slap bass accents), coupled with Michael’s trademark ad lib guttural growls and yelps, rescues it from the schmaltz. Boy, could he sing!