Michael Jackson - “Dangerous” (1991)

Rating: 8

Best Song: “Who Is It”

Listening to Dangerous again, this might be the Michael Jackson album I feel most irrational about (I keep saying this with each subsequent album, but I can guarantee that I won’t be saying it about HIStory...). My impression is that although Dangerous yielded the requisite number of hit singles and album sales, its historical reputation hasn’t exactly held up. But I feel this is due to factors that are largely external to the album itself. It happened to be the album that was displaced at #1 by Nevermind, purportedly signaling the change in the market from pop trash to grunge Its sound dates itself perhaps even more irrevocably than his first few albums. And of course, it was not too long after the release of Dangerous that the first child molestation charges were levied against Jackson, beginning the change in public perception of him from a benevolent eccentric to an at best, deeply disturbed recluse, and at worst, child predator.

But what I am really interested in is the music on Dangerous and in 1991, Michael’s songwriting and melodic skills were still at their peak. The quantity of strong hooks and melodies here is definitely on the level of Bad and Thriller. He still maintained his level of creative control and 11 of the 14 songs here were at least co-written by him. And from an emotional resonance perspective, there are at least glimpses of genuine torment here, belying the album’s reputation as a dated pop monolith. Well, perhaps it is a dated pop monolith, but I can’t really think of any pop artists since Jackson who have dared to make albums quite like this one.

That said, there are several problems with Dangerous that prevent me from giving it the rating I want to give it. First, Michael finally cast off Quincy Jones as producer and brought on Teddy Riley, progenitor of the ‘New Jack Swing’ sound, basically meaning sharper beats and heavier drums to give the album at least a little bit of a hip-hop feel. I admit to having a bit of nostalgia towards this sound due to growing up with this album, but it certainly feels more like a fad than anything long-lasting, and I’m not convinced it was entirely within Jackson’s comfort zone (indeed although fortunately they are all brief, there are a few guest raps on Dangerous, which all feel entirely pointless). Second, the album is 77 minutes long, presumably to fill out the entire CD length, as by this time CD had replaced cassettes and vinyl as the dominant medium. Yet I see little artistic reason here to make the album that long as it wasn’t marketed as a ‘double’ album nor does he use the extra space to explore new terrain. Instead, songs that would have been 3-4 minutes on previous albums are needlessly extended to 5-6 minutes in length. Finally, and most damning, I outright dislike 3 of the songs here, which I could really only say about “The Girl is Mine” from his albums up to this point, and two of them take up about 15 minutes of the album. So although overall, I still rank it highly, it’s not hard for me to imagine a version of Dangerous that would challenge Bad and quite possibly beat it for the title of my favorite Michael Jackson album. Unfortunately, this isn’t quite it.

Still, setting aside a few unfortunate inclusions on the album (which I will get to later), I basically like everything here. “Black or White” and “Remember the Time” are as good as any singles he had released until this point, but seem to be the only songs most people know from the album. So I must also spotlight songs like the title track, another entry in the “Billie Jean/Dirty Diana” sequence, yet still holding its own with an unforgettable refrain (“Take away my money/throw away my time”), even if the spoken word parts are a bit much. “In the Closet” is another song that shouldn’t work, trying to build up sexual tension with breathy vocals and spoken-word sections, but the chorus (which admittedly, he repeats over and over again for about 3 minutes at the end of the song) is still one of Jackson’s best. Also for the third straight album, he throws in a rock song with a guest guitarist (this time, Slash), yet I like “Give in to Me” nearly as much as any of its predecessors. Although these songs are bit more repetitive than on previous albums perhaps, Michael’s vocals are increasingly anguished, so there’s this weird undercurrent where at one level, you’re hearing impeccable pop music yet at another, there’s this tormented man-child trying to break his way out of his cocoon. The best example is the brooding “Who Is It,” an outright Jackson classic, with a totally melodramatic string arrangement that works nonetheless thanks to Michael’s pleading vocals, the slowly building tension, and in this case, two different sections that could qualify as immaculate pop choruses.

There are several songs I haven’t mentioned that basically all hit the mark, but I feel it is time to expound on the bad stuff here. Much as I love “Man in the Mirror,” it unfortunately awoke Jackson’s latent humanitarian balladeer persona, resulting in the dreadful “Heal the World,” which I have hated for about twenty years now, and see no reason to stop any time soon. Enough time has given me the ability to admit that the melody for “Heal the World” is not all that bad. But when you add in clips of children talking about making a difference, a treacly string and piano arrangement that sounds like it belongs in a Ronald McDonald House commercial, the result makes me want to vomit. Ballads have never been Michael’s forte, but at least he never had this level of pretension before. I suppose he was probably sincere in trying to ‘make the world a better place,’ but I can’t really see how writing a cloying, saccharine song about it accomplishes that. “Will You Be There,” included on the Free Willy soundtrack, is a mess too(sorry Betsy!). Again, the basic melodic hook is fine and entertaining to sing along to, but the 90 second sampled Beethoven intro, gospel choirs, and spoken-word outro all tell us that this is supposed to be some sort of deeply moving emotional experience, and it surely isn’t that. Finally, “Gone Too Soon” is another boring ballad, not even written by Michael, though at least it has the mercy of being short.

So with all the vitriol I’ve summoned for certain songs here, I could probably justify giving Dangerous an even lower rating. But I really do enjoy the majority of the album just as much as I enjoy his more acclaimed albums. To me, the flaws prevent it from being great, not from being good. That said, knowing what we know now, Dangerous was the start of Michael’s musical decline. His remaining studio albums would exacerbate the trends shown here: needless bandwagon jumping onto the latest commercial trends in order to seem relevant, filling out the entire CD for no reason, and more and more awful ballads. Yet at least on Dangerous he could still deliver high-quality pop like nobody else in the business.

Michael Jackson – “Bad” (1987)

Rating: 9

Best Song: “Smooth Criminal”

Okay, I really feel kind of irrational about Bad. I’ve lived with this music for so long that it’s a bit odd to put on my analytical hat and attempt to listen to Thriller and Bad as albums, and not just music to sing or dance along to. It’s odd to the point where unexpectedly I found myself developing new impressions. And it’s now obvious to me that Bad is the best Michael Jackson album, although I do wind up giving them the same rating. I believe I can defend that statement too, unwittingly using the framework I established in my Thriller review. Thriller certainly looks imposing with its sales records and enormous singles and music videos. From a perspective of innovation, Bad consolidates the gains of Thriller much more than it improves upon it. The basic framework was set and Bad follows it dutifully, with a mixture of funk, R&B, and rock all glossed up by Quincy Jones production. But over 25 years later, I’m not really sure why I should care which of the two was more original. This is pure pop music with very little pretention. It’s ultimately about the hooks, melodies and rhythms. And in that regard, I find Bad a much more consistent album while the high points are just as high, despite being lesser-known.

Most crucially, the songwriting credits for Bad show Michael having written 9 of the 11 songs, as opposed to 3 of the 4 on Thriller. Now perhaps I’m being idealistic and more creative control isn’t inherently a good thing. But although there are always exceptions, I really believe in general that music has more power when the main songwriter is also the performer. It makes sense to me that Jackson would be able to invest himself more in a song that he wrote himself rather than one handed to him at a recording studio. And considering that the 3 best songs on Thriller were his, the latent potential existed for more.

I’ve always wondered why, although I feel nostalgia for all Michael Jackson music to some degree, I feel it more for Thriller than I do Off the Wall, and more for Bad than I do for Thriller when the usual critical consensus is that Thriller is #1, Off the Wall #2 and everything else basically disposable. Now I’m not sure why it took me so long to realize it, but it’s because what I really love is the Jackson style, which I see as most ingrained starting here. He had basically perfected his style with the 3 big singles on Thriller but those were only 3 songs. Here, I enjoy everything that he wrote. Although the production on Bad dates it to 1987 and he has an undoubtedly commercial approach, there is serious creativity and songwriting skill here. I’ve listened to early demos of some of his songs like “Don’t Stop ‘Til You Get Enough” and was struck by how in the demos of the song he writes himself, the rhythm and vocal arrangements are completely laid out as they are in the actual songs. The drum machine arrangements here are emblematic Jackson and immediately distinguish him from lesser pop artists. His singing style is slightly more rough and gritty than it was before – it may be coincidence but I’ve always thought that his voice sounded different after his apparent change in skin color. Indeed, though his roots are obviously in 'black' music, there could probably be entire books written about the ways in which his music eschewed coded racial identifiers during this period in order to sell more albums. And most importantly, just as with the best songs on Thriller, his songs are dense with hooks.

As an album, I feel Bad works better than Thriller too, with a nice flow and being about as diverse as Michael would ever get. Weirdly, it has an example of basically everything I dislike about Jackson when he’s at his worst – the megalomaniacal anthem (“Man in the Mirror”), sappy adult contemporary (“I Just Can’t Stop Loving You”), dorky ballads (“Liberian Girl”), and celebrity duets (“Just Good Friends”), but I actually like all of these songs. “Liberian Girl” feels like filler at first, but works by delaying the payoff of Jackson’s pleading bridge that closes the song. “I Just Can’t Stop Loving You” could use a less cloying arrangement, but the melody and chorus are basically impeccable. “Man in the Mirror” is deservedly one of his best-known songs, and it’s actually great, showing that this kind of song can work if it has some power and build behind it. It would set an unfortunate template for his future career (the gospel choir would only work this one time), but here, I have no complaints. And it’s one of the two songs not written by Jackson! The closest to filler is “Just Good Friends,” his duet with Stevie Wonder, and fitting in with my theory, I have to think it’s because it was written by outside songwriters (seriously, you have two of the most successful pop songwriters of all time and neither one of them writes the song?). But it at least has some energy and is way better than “The Girl Is Mine.”

Bad also has examples of everything I like about Jackson, too, and in great variety. The title track is sort of dopey but still awesome, and given how his other celebrity duets turned out, perhaps it’s just as well that the rumors that he wanted Prince didn’t pan out. “The Way You Make Me Feel” is a swaying, romantic mid-tempo song much like track two on his previous two albums, and is my favorite example of these, beating out even “Rock With You” as one of my singalong favorites. “Dirty Diana” is clearly Michael’s attempt at mimicking “Beat It,” this time featuring Steve Stevens, guitarist for Billy Idol. Lyrically, it’s much more in the terrain of “Billie Jean,” being a misogynistic, paranoid song about a seductress who won’t leave him alone. As a Jackson aficionado, I still find these songs fascinating as they recur throughout his career (see “Dangerous” on the next album). They’re probably sexist, but more than that, just weird because of my feeling that they don’t reflect any sort of actual lived experience by Michael. But whatever, the vocal is legitimately tense and a sign of his evolution. Bad also closes much more strongly than Thriller, with one of his most iconic songs in “Smooth Criminal,” a perfect example of a singularly MJ song with an unforgettable rhythmic base and lots of anguished falsetto singing. The CD version also features a bonus track not on the original cassette version, “Leave Me Alone,” which is one of the most infectious songs here and features surprisingly complex multi-tracked vocal harmonies in the chorus.

Overall, I see Bad as where Michael (mostly) seized full creative control and consolidated the strengths of Thriller. Although he wasn’t able to really expand his musical horizons beyond Thriller, the fact that he contributed a much larger percentage of the songwriting makes Bad a more consistent and richer album. In my dream world, I still think that he could have made an even better album if not still somewhat shackled by the demands of trying to create huge album sales, but I nonetheless see Bad as just about the perfect mixture of his creativity and his commercial potency. Moving forward into the 90s, he would, if anything, put even more of his actual emotions into his albums (which wasn't necessarily always a good thing), but he would also pigeonhole himself by latching on to commercial trends that didn’t fit the actual music. The production on Bad may forever date it to 1987, but the songs themselves are timeless.

Michael Jackson – “Thriller” (1982)

Rating: 9

Best song: “Billie Jean”

            So, Thriller. The biggest-selling album of all time and one that holds a personal place in my heart too. I have so many memories associated with this album: actually being terrified when I first saw the “Thriller” video and not wanting to watch the werewolf sequence for several years, calling my dad and trying to figure out what was the name of the song that was always stuck in my head (“Baby Be Mine”). So perhaps no one could really fault me if I just let nostalgia dominate and gave Thriller a perfect score. Yet alas, I will not be doing so.

            The way I see it, Thriller is probably just about the pinnacle of mainstream commercial pop in the album format. It’s somewhat elusive as to what distinguishes a commercial-oriented album, but the main factor that stands out to me is that although Michael’s personality is a distinct one, he only actually wrote four of the nine songs on the album. The other five are songs, where judging by the liner notes, Jackson contributed only the vocal part. On his own songs, he’s usually credited for rhythm and vocal arrangements in addition to the songwriting, but on the others, this credit is absent. I suppose this isn’t inherently a bad thing, but it is worth examining the reaction to Thriller in context, especially that of the Motown tradition that Michael hails from.

In the 60s, the best Motown singles were undeniably great. But the artists themselves were given minimal creative control, and most of them are known for their singles, not their albums. It’s only when artists like Stevie Wonder and Marvin Gaye assumed complete creative control for themselves that they were able to emerge as creators of great albums, not just singles. So in this context, where not much is expected from a pop album outside of the singles, Thriller does look amazing. Seven of the nine songs on the album were Top 10 hits! So basically, you have nearly all singles. And almost all of those songs are very good to great.

Yet although I too love Thriller and rank it very highly, I feel it is ultimately held back by the fact that Michael only had partial, rather than full creative control. In that sense, it has one foot in the Motown days of yore and one foot in the full Gaye/Wonder breakthrough. Perhaps he just didn’t have it in him to write nine high-quality songs of his own. Yet although the songs contributed by other songwriters are generally quite good and catchy, what I see as the ‘big three’ of this album were all written by Jackson and really take things to a different level. The opening “Wanna Be Startin’ Somethin’” is somewhat similar to “Don’t Stop ‘Til You Get Enough,” riding a quirky, infectious groove for 6+ minutes. Yet I think it’s even better and increasingly intriguing as it goes. For one thing, it’s loaded with hooks, with at least five distinct sections that are all deliriously catchy. It’s also weird too, with lyrics hinting at Jackson’s paranoia and eccentricities like “You’re a vegetable/You’re just a buffet/They eat off of you” or “If you can’t feed your baby, then don’t have a baby.” It doesn’t get as much hype as “Beat It” or “Billie Jean” but I feel it’s just as good.

“Beat It” is of course most famous for featuring Eddie Van Halen on guitar and indeed, his riff and solo are integrated excellently into the song. It doesn’t hurt that the chorus ranks among Jackson’s catchiest refrains. “Billie Jean” is my pick, like many, for best song on the album and probably the best thing Michael ever did. Lyrically, it’s intriguing due to being his first of many songs about a jealous, insane, sexually starved woman out to get him. This moves beyond just simple paranoia especially because I doubt that Michael was having actual relationships with women during this time period. It’s almost like he’s making up what he thinks romance is like and when the result is this darkly paranoid, I can’t help feeling that it says a lot about how screwed up he was.

But armchair psychology aside, the real reason “Billie Jean” stands out is because again, it’s brilliantly catchy, with the opening bass line and “the kid is not my son” hook being particularly iconic, but also because it’s just so dense with vocal and instrumental hooks, perhaps even denser than “Wanna Be Startin’ Somethin’” There is not a wasted second in the arrangement and if more commercial pop was like this, perhaps I wouldn’t be so derisive of the corporate machine. But I don’t think it’s possible for most commercial pop to be like this, because this song is pure Michael and its success is reflective of his own vision and perfectionism.

Unfortunately that perfectionism did not seem to extend to the songs that he didn’t write, and that’s why although my designated ‘big 3’ are enough to earn Thriller a high rating, the rest of the album holds it back from gaining true masterpiece status in my mind. Which is not to say there’s nothing else of value here, of course. I’ve barely talked about the title track, which I feel non-Jackson aficionados would be surprised to learn was not actually written by Michael, but rather trusted sidekick Rod Temperton, who wrote three songs on the last album and contributes three here as well (“Thriller” plus “Baby Be Mine” and “The Lady in My Life”). I like “Thriller” a lot of course, although the effect isn’t quite as strong without the video. “Baby Be Mine” seems to get a lot of flak in most reviews I’ve read, and is only one of the two non-singles here, but whether it’s my childhood nostalgia, or its smooth, easygoing melody, I enjoy it greatly. “The Lady in My Life” definitely veers closer to filler and is proof that Jackson had far surpassed what Temperton was contributing at this point, which was not necessarily the case on Off the Wall. Yet while I enjoy all of these songs, along with “Human Nature” and “P.Y.T.,” they never quite make the leap from very good to great.

But the real problem here is Michael’s duet with Paul McCartney, “The Girl Is Mine.” Although the song was in fact written by Michael, it feels the most gimmicky and fake of any song on the album, with no purpose besides to be a vehicle for a big celebrity duet. Yet the result is honestly embarrassing, especially for Paul. The main body of the song is trite enough, but the spoken-word section, much as I enjoy to recite it word for word, is really stupid. I sense zero actual interest in the song from either Michael or Paul. Since Michael has the songwriting credit, perhaps it really was his harebrained idea, but this is the main reason that Thriller can’t muster a higher grade. In an alternate universe where Michael Jackson was not a child star and wrote and produced Thriller himself, I’d like to think it would still have “Wanna Be Startin’ Somethin,” “Beat It, and “Billie Jean,” (maybe minus the slick production and Van Halen guitar solo) but it would never have “The Girl Is Mine.”

Michael Jackson - "Off the Wall" (1979)

Rating: 8

Best Song – “Don’t Stop ‘Til You Get Enough”

            First, a brief biographical note on me and Michael Jackson. Between the ages of four and ten, the only music I ever listened to was Off the Wall, Thriller, Bad, and Dangerous. I spent countless Saturday mornings watching Michael Jackson music video marathons on MTV and VH1. In short, me and the King of Pop go way back. This can potentially present some difficulties as a reviewer, for while these are ultimately my subjective opinions, I am also attempting to be ‘objective’ in the sense that I apply consistent standards to the albums I review. The conundrum I run into with reviewing Michael Jackson is that my favorite songs of his make me feel inexpressibly nostalgic in a way that goes well beyond what I view as their objective merits.

For although at a gut emotional level, I probably enjoy “The Way You Make Me Feel” as much as I enjoy just about anything else, it’s hard to avoid my analytical conclusion that Michael’s music is excellent by the standards of highly professional, corporatized pop music but is still highly professional, corporatized pop music which ultimately limits how good it can really be. Although I feel, especially as his career progressed, that more and more of his personal artistic vision started to come through (and unlike many pop singers, he did in fact have an artistic vision), the way his music is presented usually feels chained to pop convention unlike a more exploratory contemporary such as Prince. Thriller is something of an exception to this, but it also underscores the other major problem I have with Jackson, which is the filler. Again, by the standards of most artists played on radio, he looks consistent, but there are relative to major throwaways on every Michael Jackson album.

Ultimately, I look to find balance between these two different perspectives, since they both impact how I feel and react to the music. Thus, I suspect my ratings for his albums will be a bit higher than what most who have similar musical tastes to me otherwise would give them. But I’m not going to give them all perfect scores either.

So, Off the Wall. Like most reviewers, I start here because this was the first Michael Jackson album where he played a major part in the songwriting and overall musical direction. Although he certainly was not the only creative player on the album and probably had even more creative control as his career progressed, there is a marked difference in both sound and quality between this and his previous work. I haven’t listened to all of his early solo albums, but what I have heard was uninspiring, generic early 70s R&B and not really having anything to do with Jackson as an artist at all, so I quickly lost interest in being the rare reviewer to actually tackle them. The exception of course are the iconic Jackson 5 singles, but I have a strong suspicion that Jackson 5 albums weren’t much better either.

Yet here, Michael successfully made the transition that Justin Bieber will never make and emerges as a legitimate artist. Although the sound is instantly recognizable as late 70s disco-influenced dance pop, the songwriting is generally strong, and fairly consistent too. I’m sure that most have heard the singles “Don’t Stop ‘Til You Get Enough” and “Rock With You” and they are deserved classics. “Don’t Stop,” in particular, stands out as the most creative song here as well as the most uniquely Michael Jackson. Although its length instills fears of endless disco marathons, the guitar and horn-led groove is infectious and Michael’s falsetto singing endearing, if not exactly sexy. “Rock With You,” actually written by Rod Temperton, may be my personal favorite on the record, with a winning melody and vocal by Jackson.

What’s most impressive, though, both for a commercial pop album and what is effectively a debut or rebirth, is that Off the Wall rates as perhaps Jackson’s most consistent album. Although everything is basically in the same vein – either upbeat dance or mid-tempo ballads (mostly upbeat dance), it rarely feels too repetitive. It does follow a fairly predictable structure in that side one features the two big singles, followed by two good, but slightly weaker efforts (although it pains me to call “Workin’ Day and Night” weaker, as it rides the funky guitar/horn/falsetto triptych to almost as great effect as “Don’t Stop”). Side two opens with another strong single, the Temperton-penned title track, and then comes the clearly recognizable filler stretch before closing with another standout dance number (“Burn This Disco Out”). But even the filler stretch isn’t that bad, though perhaps mediocre. It helps that Jackson had enough clout to enlist Stevie Wonder and Paul McCartney as songwriters (though McCartney’s “Girlfriend” is actually a cover). Wonder’s “I Can’t Help It” is hardly one of his best (likely why he gave it away) but is at the same time quite strong for a designated filler tune, adding some smooth class to the second side.

Really, there’s nothing bad here. “She’s Out of My Life” comes close, but is saved by the famous legend (famous to me at any rate) that Michael couldn’t sing the song without bursting into tears and indeed he does sound like he’s starting to sob at the very end of the recorded version. Although I will spare my readers from me delving into the various biographical implications of this, it does add some intrigue to what is otherwise a fairly generic and not very memorable ballad. But otherwise, Off the Wall is impressively consistent and certainly has to rank as one of the best commercial dance-pop albums of its era. That said, Michael would of course move on to greater things and apart from maybe “Don’t Stop,” his personality had yet to fully imprint itself on his music, apart from his unique androgynous singing style. This music is all about dancing and having a good time, and nothing more, and believe it or not, he would go on to make music with more emotional weight. 

Kate Bush - "50 Words for Snow" (2011)

Rating: 8

Best Song: “Misty”

Kate’s creative comeback continues! Although given the seven year gap between this one and Aerial, perhaps 50 Words for Snow should be seen as a new chapter in Kate’s career. Met with fairly universal critical acclaim, I’m not going to disagree. Almost miraculously for an artist who released her greatest work 29 years earlier, and for an artist who already reinvented herself in 2004 with Aerial, she once again makes an album that is different from all the ones that came before, yet still inimitably Kate Bush

If I were to make a Kate Bush chronology, 50 Words does tie most closely to Aerial and the two albums certainly qualify as her ‘late period’ so far. Yet this is a different beast altogether, with long, almost ambient songs (just 7 tracks ranging from 7 to over 13 minutes). Although the piano, singing style and concept/fantasy songs are all still here, identifying this as a Kate Bush album, I’m still taken by how singular this album feels. The opening 9-minute “Snowflake” nicely sets a template for the rest of the album. It utilizes a repeated piano riff throughout the song that serves as the melodic backbone, then slowly builds in instrumentation as Kate gently sings of being a snowflake falling to Earth. Yet if by the song length, you would expect some sort of epic composition, this isn’t really it. It does have multiple sections, with Kate hitting some increasingly high notes in the mid-section, yet even this is done in a fairly understated way. There’s no crescendo or ultimate payoff, instead the different sections of the song rotate in and out almost randomly, before fading out on the opening verse/chorus section for nearly the entire second half of the song. Instead, it’s all about whether she captures a certain atmosphere, perhaps the feeling of being alone in a dark house on a cold winter night. It’s not about the immediate payoff but whether you’re captured by that atmosphere. In that sense, she does tie back to her earlier career, just through different means.

Much to my delight, most of the songs here see Kate playing different parts again, working in the conceptual/fantastical/theatrical mode that was always her strength. The standout track of the album (and one that I'm unhealthily obsessed with) is “Misty,” telling the story of a love affair with a snowman. It works on the strength of its repetition, slowly building in intensity as it goes. It doesn’t hurt that it has some beautiful piano playing and that the instrumentation creates an increasingly intoxicating atmosphere. It’s all about a slow, measured pace, where it doesn’t matter that it takes five minutes for the guitar to come in as long as it’s satisfying when it gets there. Yet even though it remains understated, the passion in Kate’s voice is still there and ultimately sells it. “Snowed In on Wheeler Street,” a duet with Elton John, has another great and classically Kate concept, about time traveling lovers. I interpret it as being similar to the novel The Time Traveler’s Wife, though with two people traveling through time instead of just one. Regardless, despite my usual hatred of the ‘celebrity duet’ concept, I think it makes sense here, and Elton holds his own with Kate vocally, proving that he quite as washed up as I thought.

I do have some reservations about the album that prevent me from giving an even higher rating even though I am tempted to do so. The slow pace and length of these songs could make this album seem inaccessible and indeed, it did take me a second listen before the songs started to make sense to me (although I still can’t entirely wrap my brain around the structure of “Lake Tahoe” or even “Snowflake”). I still find the title track is tedious (the concept is that actor Stephen Fry recites 50 synonyms for snow) – although the concept is interesting and the different words for snow fairly creative, there’s not really a lot of meat to the track musically so the novelty value didn’t last for me. And perhaps more importantly in the broad scope of her career, although I find this shift in style quite satisfying from a creative perspective, especially when so many artists of Kate’s age are content to rest on their laurels and deliver generic re-workings of their older classics, I need the ‘insane’ factor to really take me to the next level with Kate. But in the end, these are mild reservations, and I am quite satisfied with 50 Words for Snow, and perhaps, most importantly, eager to see what she will release next.

Kate Bush – “Aerial” (2005)

The quintessential comeback album, Aerial can successfully boast of being Kate’s best album in 20 years, going all the way back to Hounds of Love. I find that’s often an overused claim, but in this case, she only released two albums during that span, including none since 1993. But it also helps that Aerial is indeed a very good album, and one that manages to sound only like Kate Bush while not really resembling any of her earlier records all that much. Instead, much to my delight, her lengthy hiatus seems to have successfully cured her of any attempts to stay commercially relevant and instead follow her muse. It also avoids the potential trap of trying to simply rehash her most acclaimed albums, since in Kate’s case, doing so wouldn’t really make any sense anyways given that the whole point of those albums was how wonderfully odd and unique they were.

So what does Aerial sound like? Well, it is largely built around the piano, so it does hearken back to her early work in that sense. Yet it also is clearly the work of an older and more mature artist, with a more relaxed, lush feel and largely normal vocals. There’s no pixie singing or piercing screams to be found here. She still makes use of keyboards and strings, but unlike on her last couple albums, the string work is actually classy (a great example being “Bertie” with rich, understated strings to go along with classically picked guitar). In large part, the music is not so easily dated, which is a major plus.

Yet even if her performances here are understated and there is very little of the operatic diva left, Bush still retains her love of fantasy and playing characters. Thus, Aerial is divided into two suites, similar to Hounds of Love, though in this case, it’s two separate discs, entitled A Sea of Honey and A Sky of Honey, making this Kate’s first double album. And it’s these eccentric, but fully realized fantasies that ultimately connect Aerial to her earlier work. Who else but Kate would make a song called “Pi” where periodically throughout the song, she indeed sings digits of pi? Or “Mrs. Bartolozzi,” about performing domestic duties (with a chorus of “Washing machine”)? Even if “Mrs. Bartolozzi” is really about Kate’s life away from music, as some critics have speculated, it still maintains a slightly fantastic mood. The second disc is more obviously conceptual, as there are no breaks in the music, and recurring motifs of birdsong as well as lyrical themes.

Overall, for a double album, I’m impressed by how even Aerial is. Perhaps it’s due to the conceptual unity, but there is no filler here whatsoever. It’s much more laid-back and chill than her earlier work lacking both the insanity of her early albums and even the vocal theatrics of her last couple. But Kate is still a compelling singer and imbues all of these songs with her personality. At its best, she captures a relaxed, earthy mood while also transporting the listener into her fantasy world of birds, art, and mathematics. On the second disc, I’m particularly taken by the lush textures of “An Architect’s Dream” and the haunting bass of “Somewhere in Between.” But really, it’s enjoyable all the way through. It did take me some time to absorb and let it come to me on its own terms, because there are no immediately stunning moments. But overall, Aerial is a definite success and well worthy of the title of ‘comeback album.’

Kate Bush - “The Red Shoes” (1993)

I really didn’t care much for this album at first, but it has grown on me quite a bit. It’s probably still Kate’s worst album, which is indeed its reputation and much like how she was dismissive of Lionheart for being outtakes from the debut, she has been dismissive of this one as well, citing the fact that the songs were really intended to shine on stage for a tour that never happened. And after this, it would be 12 years before she would release another album.

I can buy that these songs might have improved in a live setting, because her songwriting hasn’t necessarily slipped all that much. The main flaw of the album is that the slide into generic adult contemporary continues, and unlike on The Sensual World, where she made up for it with layered, sophisticated arrangements, the instrumental backing on most of these songs could have been done by anybody. It's one of those albums with loads of guest musicians but no particular personality or guiding force. And yet despite all that, Kate’s singing is so great throughout that I like this album way more than I feel like I should.

The major standout for me is “Moments of Pleasure”, even though it’s not free of questionable musical choices, with gloppy strings that sound like the score to the Oscar montage of dead actors. Yet like “This Woman’s Work” this is just one of those songs where her singing is so damn beautiful that I have to give in. I’m just a sucker for Kate Bush singing sad piano ballads, what can I say?  The opening “Rubberband Girl” is another highlight with a catchy, churning guitar riff and the most clearly defined melody and chorus on the album. “And So Is Love” has a nice melody and a suddenly yearning vocal part about halfway through which helps to overcome the bland synthesizer and string arrangement in the background. As for the rest of the material, most of it is at least solid, with good singing and good melodies to help overcome the somewhat generic sound.

I do think there was unexplored potential here, though it's not like there was some great album buried, probably just a decent one. But whatever the circumstances were, The Red Shoes does suffer a bit from a lack of creative spark, and as such, the 12 year break was perhaps not a terrible thing in order for Bush to recharge and head in a different musical direction. And indeed, the release of Director's Cut in 2011, with several reworked versions of songs from The Red Shoes seems to be her acknowledgement that this album was not all it could have been. All that said, there have been a lot of great artists that have released albums much worse than this one, so it shouldn't be seen as some mark of shame.