May 18, 1993. A date that will live in infamy...at least to me. On that day, Janet Jackson released her janet. album, intensifying my growing passion for her and her music. In the weeks leading up to the CD's arrival, I began counting down the days until I could purchase my own copy. Not surprising, right? Particularly since countdowns and I have history and fit together so well. Still, you may find my anticipation and excitement not all that noteworthy, until you take into consideration the rest of my classmates were preoccupied with how many days of school were left until summer vacation. I could not be bothered by that. Clearly, the new Janet Jackson CD proved far more important than the last day of sophomore year for 16-year-old Chris.
"That's the Way Love Goes," the album's lead single, introduced the world to a different, more mature Janet. The song's laid-back, sensual mood deviated from the more dance-driven, Minneapolis sound featured on her Rhythm Nation and Control albums. On the new CD, Jackson traded social consciousness for sexual exploration and individual assertiveness, most overtly showcased on the sizzling "Any Time, Any Place" and "Throb." Her infamous semi-nude Rolling Stone cover symbolized the singer's maturation and announced the arrival of the new Janet, not only on the magazine but on posters, too. My infatuation dictated I had to have that poster, and my friends often share their memories of seeing it in my room. Though none of them has admitted as much, they probably asked themselves why a gay guy would have a picture of a woman whose breasts were bare save the cupping hands of a man otherwise unseen. The easy answer to that question is: Because Janet Jackson, of course! Have I not mentioned I was (and still am) obsessed? It wasn't the only poster of the singer that adorned my walls, either. I wanted everyone who came to my room, both at home and at college, to know how much I loved her, so I snatched up any poster I could find and proudly displayed each one. (Update: I no longer own any of those posters, not that Bryce would let me hang them anywhere in our house. I lost them in the apartment fire my roommate, Maggie, and I experienced in the fall of 2000.) Once janet. hit stores, I rushed to obtain a copy and proceeded to listen to the entire CD on repeat until I knew it by heart. Thinking back to the days of Chris's Top 40, the album's impact on my life was evident. Each one of the songs eventually made its way onto my countdown regardless of whether or not Jackson released them to radio. Many of them found their way #1, including "That's the Way Love Goes," "If," "You Want This," "Because of Love," "Again," "This Time," and "Where Are You Now." One of the standout tracks from the album, "If," quickly catapulted to the top of my favorite Jackson songs, earning it the #2 position on my Hot 101. The song also spent more weeks on Chris's Top 40 than any other, hanging around on the chart from the summer of 1993 until I discontinued the weekly ranked list at the end of 1995. And as much as I loved Rhythm Nation and thought Jackson would never be able to outdo herself, janet. proved that assumption wrong. In just about every way, the CD defined my high school experience and served as my soundtrack to 1993, 1994, and 1995. Few other albums can boast such longevity and prevalence in their impact on my life.
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The song "Escapade" basically introduced me to Janet Jackson in the spring of 1990, and if you want a specific sign to identify the start of my enthusiasm for the youngest of the famous Jackson clan, look no further. If you need more solid evidence to explain my infatuation, however, I completely understand your hunger for something a bit more meaty and substantial. Because, let's face it, no matter how powerful and symbolic, a single cannot justify a life-long, pop-culture love affair. With over 25 years and counting, there has to be more than a simple song to warrant my unending support of Janet. So, ladies and gentlemen of the non-existent jury, I present to you Exhibit B, ​Janet Jackson's Rhythm Nation 1814.
I could ramble on about the album's numerous accolades and achievements, like how it became the biggest-selling album of 1990. Or how it has sold more than twelve million copies worldwide since then. Or how it earned Jackson the distinction of being the first woman ever nominated for a Producer of the Year Grammy. Or how it remains the only album ever to have seven commercial singles reach the top five on Billboard's Hot 100 chart. Or how it produced three number one hits over the span of three consecutive years, 1989-1991, and endures as the only album to have accomplished that. Or how the Rhythm Nation World Tour 1990 became the most successful debut concert by a recording artist. I could ramble on about all those things, but I won't. Instead, I'll tell you how the album was the second CD I ever purchased (after World Clique), but the first cassette tape I replaced after getting my first CD player. And how "Escapade" lured me to the album, but the title track, "Miss You Much," "Alright," "Black Cat," and "Love Will Never Do (Without You)" quickly established Janet Jackson's Rhythm Nation 1814 as one of my early all-time favorites. And how "Rhythm Nation," "State of the World," "The Knowledge," and "Livin' in a World (They Didn't Make)" helped open my eyes to the social injustices faced by many people, particularly children, around the world. And how, at the age of thirteen, it therefore taught me the meaning of privilege, white and otherwise. And how I subsequently used lyrics from two different interludes to start off a paper written in my 11th grade social studies class, the first being: "We are in a race between education and catastrophe." The second stating: "In complete darkness, we are all the same. It is only our knowledge and wisdom that separates us. Don't let your eyes deceive you." And how these songs and interludes prove every bit as true and important today as they did when Jackson released the album in 1989. And how I whole-heartedly believed the album's opening words, "We are a nation with no geographic boundaries, bound together by our beliefs. We are like-minded individuals, pushing toward a world rid of color lines." And how I still believe those lines today and with every fiber of my being, perhaps more than ever before. So, if The Velvet Rope helped me to better see myself, Janet Jackson's Rhythm Nation 1814 helped me to better see the world. My love and adoration for Janet Jackson runs deep and true, and if I had to choose a single musical artist as my all-time favorite, it would be her. No contest. For most of my family and friends, this confession is neither surprising nor particularly revelatory, since I never kept my fandom much of a secret. Posters of Jackson adorned my bedroom walls. I celebrated her May birthday rather than the end of the school year and never missed an opportunity to insert her music or lyrics into my homework. A number of passages scribbled on the pages of my senior-year yearbook mention my infatuation with Janet as one of my defining characteristics, a badge of honor I was all too happy to carry with me to college and into adulthood. Even one of my tattoos--the first one, actually--is Janet Jackson related: a symbol from The Velvet Rope on my upper left arm, the significance of its permanence not lost on me.
Whereas Alanis Morissette's Jagged Little Pill defined an era for millions of people the world over, my friends and I included, Janet Jackson's The Velvet Rope seemed more singularly important in my journey of self-discovery. Though I fully recognized my adoration for Jackson was well established and others obviously connected to The Velvet Rope for a variety of reasons, I felt as if this Jackson album spoke directly to me and my burgeoning sense of identity when it arrived in the fall of 1997. I was 20 years old at the time and serving my second year as a Resident Advisor in the on-campus apartments at UMD. Many of the close and life-long friendships made that first fall grew stronger over those two years. Others faded. New lasting friendships developed as my position as an RA connected me to new people on an almost daily basis. The days of living within a shell were officially gone, and with the awkwardness of freshman year receding into the past and my first year as an RA successfully under my belt, my self-confidence and sense of purpose never seemed stronger. I felt like I had found my calling and finally began to understand who Chris was. In short, life was great. Never before had I felt so alive or so connected to my fellow human beings. I lived for socializing with my friends, hosting programs for residents, and going to class more often than not (most weeks). I threw myself and all of my energy into the people and activities that brought so much fulfillment to my life. Despite my amazing circle of friends and profound sense of happiness, however, something inside of me was just not adding up, something I couldn't quite identify. Or, more appropriately phrased, there was something I wasn't quite ready to acknowledge and accept. I was having the time of my life but felt as though part of me was missing and false, and I worked really hard to focus energy on everything else. Turns out leaving that shell I lived underneath proved more of an evasive maneuver than a courageous declaration to the world that I had arrived. Shells and living underneath them provide a certain amount of protection from the outside world, this much is true. But they also sometimes facilitate the time and space needed to engage with the type of introspection required for self-discovery. You see, I had a secret I didn't want to confess or confront. I liked men. I REALLY liked men. I lingered over images of shirtless men in print ads. (Marky Mark's famous campaign for Calvin Klein comes to mind.) I anticipated movies starring Hollywood hunks. (Brad Pitt in Legends of the Fall anyone?). In the very early stages of the Internet, I also chatted with guys I'd never meet. (Anonymity was key.) But I didn't quite fully understand that part of myself. I definitely did not embrace it yet, and I avoided sharing this information with anyone for fear of rejection, though I'm pretty sure they all knew and accepted me for who I truly was. All the signs were there, stereotypical and otherwise. My ever-so faint lisp. My slightly effeminate affect. My obsession with Disney movies. My love but not lust for Janet Jackson. And, of course, my ogling of guys passing by. So, as aspects of my identity became more difficult and scary to face, I ventured further and further away from that shell, and my introverted self tried very hard and mostly succeeded at appearing as an extrovert. For a while. Along came The Velvet Rope. I plopped the CD into my player and pressed play. The first words Janet spoke were, "It's my belief that we all have the need to feel special. And it's this need that can bring out the best yet worst in us." Wait, what? Something triggered in my brain. Was that what I was doing? The wonderful friends around me made me feel special, that's for sure, and I cherished every moment of that. But by completely embracing that feeling of being special and being part of something special without regard for the scary yet honest truth within myself, was I also bringing out the worst by justifying a false life, a lie? Okay, Janet. Where are you going with this? And did you write this just for me? Over the subsequent 75 minutes of songs and interludes, Janet continued reaching out to me, relating all too closely to my emotional and psychological journey at the the time with lyrics like: "You spend most your life pretending not to be the one you are but who you choose to see" and "Boy meets boy, boy loses boy, boy gets cute boy back. Girl meets girl, girl loses girl, girl gets cute girl back. One rule, no rules. One love, free Xone." She even tackled the subject of meeting strangers online: "How could it be that you knew me? My deepest fears, my fantasies...confide in you what no one knows, but it feels so real." In almost every way, The Velvet Rope proved the album I needed most in the fall of 1997, and to be perfectly honest, that need still resurfaces from time to time. At one point during the title track, Janet sings a line that rings as true today as it did 20 years ago: "One love's the answer, you'll find in you." I'm still working on that, though I recognize and acknowledge that I'm now in a much better place in terms of self-identity and self-acceptance. After all, I didn't have to leave my shell behind, I simply needed to come out of it. It would take another two years before I fully came out. Many wonderful friends helped me through the process, but, in part, I also have The Velvet Rope to thank for that. |
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I am a self-proclaimed pop culture geek and list enthusiast who is celebrating the big four-zero by counting down the most important, influential, and favorite music, movies, television shows, books, and video games of my life so far. Categories
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