It's close to midnight, and something evil's lurking in the dark: Michael Jackson.
It would be pretty easy for me to make the joke that this line has been uttered more by the children at Jackson's late-night slumber parties than by Jackson himself. And for those of you who would expect me to use this platform to besmirch the King of Pop for a cheap laugh with slander, shame on you! This is print. It would have to be libel.
But this past week marked the 25th anniversary re-release of Michael Jackson's "Thriller." And in the wake of this occasion, I'm going to leave the Jackson bashing to the more qualified tabloid reporters, paparazzi and California circuit court subpoenas to focus on a celebration of all that "Thriller" has brought into our lives.
I would like, if I may, to take you on a strange journey. The year is 1982. America is run by one of the most staunchly conservative governments to date. "Rambo" is released. The economy is on the verge of recession. The Cubs haven't won the World Series. Wars rage in Israel and in Afghanistan, and the compact disc is a barely used technology. So, pretty much, think 2008 - just with more neon, synthesizers and leg warmers.
Enter Michael Jackson. Enter "Thriller." Everything that we love about post-Jackson 5 Michael Jackson stems from this album: from the moonwalk to the rhinestone glove.
"Thriller" knocked down MTV's color barrier. Without "Thriller" to pave the way, we could have arguably been denied Sir Mix-A-Lot's "Baby Got Back," Prince being Prince and every song you've ever gotten groped to in a fraternity basement - being left to fill the Billboard Charts with Phil Collins still parading around as a not-balding pop star despite having been a 45-year-old man since 1975. And equally important, think of a world of reality TV without integration; a "Rock of Love" without a "Flava of Love?" Say it ain't so boyee!
For that matter, I can't even wrap my mind around a possible world without the impact of "Thriller's" three music videos. Sure, other songs have great dances to go along with them - and believe me, I will be electric slidin' until the day I die - but no other album has spawned more entertainingly vital dance floor moves that can be used at any time with the possible exception of Wilson Pickett's "Land of a 1000 Dances."
Have you ever been let down at a party by the "Beat It" Snap, the "Thriller" Monster Dance or the "Billie Jean" Walking-Down-The-Stairs-As-Each-Step-Lights-Up-At-Your-Touch? Have you? Ever? Even when they're done poorly, they're always, always, funny. I propose a mandate that any gathering you're ever at at Tufts cannot be considered an official "party" if at least one "Thriller" track is not played. Otherwise, it is at best a box social or hootenanny.
I could go on all night. Hell, I might write my thesis paper on the ramifications of the Paul McCartney duet on "The Girl is Mine" if my advisor lets me. Suffice to say this though: On its anniversary, "Thriller" should be cherished. If you haven't listened in a while, give it a spin. If you're at a box social, upgrade it to a party. If you don't own it, may God and the ghost of Ike Turner have mercy on your soul. Because at the end of the day, no matter if the tabloids think Britney is crazier, until she names a child "Blanket," Michael Jackson will always remain the King of Pop.
Ari Goldberg is a senior majoring in history. He can be reached at Ari.Goldberg@tufts.edu.
