1997 Michael Jackson: Blood On The Dance Floor

From its opening bars, 'Blood On The Dancefloor' has more than a hint of the familiar. If it sounds more like the Michael Jackson of old and not the more recent 'issues' burdened model, then that's because it is; 'Blood On The Dancefloor' was recorded in 1991 as part of the 'Dangerous' sessions but not released at the time. Maybe it's not difficult to second guess why Jackson kept it in the can; it's not a question of quality - in fact, 'Blood On The Dancefloor' is, for me, a better song than a good 50% of those that did make the cut, but its hard boiled tale of Susie and her knife would have been too close to a video nasty re-tread of 'Billie Jean' for comfort (the "Susie got your number, and Susie ain't your friend" is a dead ringer for tension releasing chorus of that earlier song).

Not close in terms of a natural progression either, but in more in line with a deliberate hark back to associate with past glories in a manner that suggested a creative stasis and more than a hint of desperation to regain ground lost. In 1997 though, the distance was sufficient in time to give a timely reminder to jog the memory of just what it was that made him special in the first place; 'Blood On The Dancefloor' falls between the two stools of the Quincy Jones helmed brand of robotic funk (Jackson's under the breath "She got your number, she know your game. She put you under, it's so insane" opening is a kissing cousin to 'Smooth Criminal') and the later harder, metallic Teddy Riley production values of 'Dangerous'.

All of which makes 'Blood On The Dancefloor' a home game for Jackson, a hard surface for his yelp to ricochet off and a relentless two step dance beat to tear up the dancefloor. Sure, it's a step backwards, but after Jackson's post 1991 green manifestos ('Heal The World', 'Earth Song') and his hard knock life whinging (think of 'You Don't Care About Us' and it's "Tell me what has become of my life I have a wife and two children who love me, I am the victim of police brutality, now I'm tired of bein' the victim of hate" or 'Stranger In Moscow's "I was wandering in the rain, mask of life, feelin' insane. Swift and sudden fall from grace, sunny days seem far away") then it's retro appeal is not just easy to overlook, it's also a blessed relief to.