Lost in the maelstrom of controversy that followed Jackson’s “wardrobe malfunction” at that year’s Super Bowl half-time show, this sweat-drenched single feels like a lost classic. Jackson performing the the Royal Albert Hall in London in 2011. While her later attempts at recreating the candlelit mood often slip into unintentional comedy (see Damita Jo’s graphic Moist), here there’s real, tangible yearning at the heart of the song’s excellent chorus. Any Time, Any Place (1993)īuilt around twinkly percussion, delicate rainfall and what sounds like the rise and fall of someone sleeping, the Janet album’s slow-burn epic represents Jackson’s peak sex-jam majesty. Eschewing a propensity for close mic ballads anchored by breathy vocals, here everything is turned up to 10, from the sky-scraping chorus to the horn stabs and Jackson’s yearning vocals. Leaning closer to neo-soul and pure R&B, The Velvet Rope’s crisp, expertly polished third single finds Jackson wallowing in her sadness. Come Back to Me (1989)Ĭritics often discuss the “slightness” of Jackson’s voice – ludicrous given the amount of genres, tones and moods she’s able to effortlessly crisscross – but her delivery on this soft-focus ballad perfectly matches Jam & Lewis’s silken production, all tactile beats and sighing strings. The pair are almost giddy with excitement as they race around Jam & Lewis’s featherlight concoction, all sugar-coated synth strings and a chorus that feels like a warm hug after a first kiss. Recorded for the soundtrack to Damon Wayans comedy Mo’ Money, this duet with Luther Vandross sounds like new love. She sounds in her element throughout, all giggles and effervescent “oohs”, while Jam and Lewis encase her pure pop vocals in an early 80s glitterball.
Gliding around a sample of Evelyn “Champagne” King’s 1981 disco-funk classic I’m in Love, the immaculate R&B Junkie was another victim of Jackson’s post-Super Bowl blacklisting. It’s tempting to wonder what the label made of this, the album’s decidedly low-key lead single, a mellow, J Dilla-inspired ode to taking nothing for granted that fused a Joni Mitchell sample with a Q-Tip verse, and that was purposefully made chart ineligible in the US. Got Til It’s Gone (1997)Ī year before 1997’s personal opus The Velvet Rope, Jackson signed a record-breaking $80m deal with Virgin. Like 1997’s Together Again, it heals pain through the freedom of pop. Opening as a delicate ballad before blossoming into a dance behemoth, Shoulda Known Better finds Jackson asking for global unity while also touching on how little has changed since she posed similar questions on 1989’s Rhythm Nation (“I don’t want my face to be a poster child for being naive”). “Maybe we’ll meet at a bar, he’ll drive a funky car,” she coos, lost in the possibility of brand new love. Over a sampled riff taken from 70s rock band America’s sun-dappled Ventura Highway and a web of splintering synths, All for You’s second single is Jackson at her most straightforwardly goofy best. The lascivious Strawberry Bounce – co-produced by then-newcomer Kanye West, who creates the song’s backbone out of a chopped up Jay-Z sample and a glockenspiel – showcases Strawberry, who promises to be a lover’s sex-focused playground.
Strawberry Bounce (2004)ĭamita-Jo saw Jackson not only experiment with her sound – Richard X, the DFA and Basement Jaxx were approached for sessions – but also her alter egos. “Strobe lights make everything sexier,” coos Jackson, clearly not with a sticky-floored provincial club above a Wetherspoon’s in mind. Created specifically for her gay fans, this throbbing dancefloor anthem from Discipline – co-written by Ne-Yo – could easily have nestled on X, Kylie’s similarly minded album released the previous year.
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