I know, I know , I knowiknowiknow, I know*

Now before we start, this posting isn’t meant to be taken to mean anything strange, and there is no hidden meaning in the proposition I am putting forward here. We have spoken before on these pages about the ambiguity that now comes with being a fan of Michael Jackson, the outrageously talented performer whose life has become something of an equally outrageous prolonged freak show and bizarre series of events to say the very least. But I am not here to judge or preach. Many of you will have your own views on the whole crazy world and let’s leave it there.

Regardless, we all know the man created some of the finest pop moments of all time, taking disco, funk, soul and more into uncharted and quite stunning new territories. But rather than focussing on the brilliance of The Jacksons, and the partly simultaneous rise of Jackson as an adult solo star through ”Off The Wall” and beyond, I wanted to pause for a moment and look back to the original introduction of the Jackson 5 as a group of themselves. And particularly I wanted to look at Michael Jackson as lead singer of that outfit, and a distinct element of their output, namely their brilliant ballads. Now we all know about the bubblegum pop sound with which they first burst onto the scene, the genius of “I Want You Back”, “ABC” and “The Love You Save”, and the fact that this heralded a talented group with a super talented lead singer in 12 year old Michael.

But their fourth single, and fourth straight number one hit, flipped the script somewhat with the sensational “Ill Be There”. Here was a 12 year old leading a group of brothers themselves largely still in adolescence, in singing a song of longing, regret and commitment. And killing it. I mean totally killing it. Make no mistake, “I’ll Be There”, released in 1970, is a gem of a pop ballad, and Jackson’s performance is absolutely breath-taking. And do not be fooled either, because this was a risk, and as it turns out, master-stroke from Berry Gordy, and took his Motown disciples to new leagues of possibility in terms of sales and stardom.

And there were others to follow. Standouts include the brilliant “Never Can Say Goodbye”, Jackson's first solo venture with the emotionally-wrenching and beautiful “Got To Be There”, and the Bill Withers cover “Ain’t No Sunshine”, to my mind the funkiest thing Jackson ever did, Seriously, it is brilliant. And these are just the cream of a rich crop. But I was listening to “Never Can Say Goodbye” the other day and it struck me, as I sung along with my own inimitable style, that here is quite an odd phenomenon.

A boy, barely into puberty, singing ballads of great depth and emotion with a conviction that some of the greatest soul singers could never muster. How did he do that, despite surely having never even encountered many of the emotions himself at that stage in his life? I seriously don't know. And then I realised that I can’t think of one other example of an artist who has done this. Not that there have not been child artists to achieve great fame and musical accomplishment, Little Stevie Wonder for one, but to pull off great soul balladeering at such tender years is a phenomenon of sorts, and further evidence of just what a rare talent Jackson was, and perhaps still is. The last questions is moot anyway, but I for one have always thought that these songs are highpoints of an already stellar musical output. And as I say, if you have ever wondered how an already classic song of anguish and love-riddled despair could sound better than it’s brilliant original, then dig out Jackson’s cover of “Ain’t No Sunshine”.

Peep the breakdown at 1min45 and revel in the greatness. Soul music is filled with covers and interpretations, and for me this is one of the essences of the music, the ability to stamp authority on a great piece of work. A great song can make an average singer sound great. A great singer can make an average song great. A great singer can turn a great song into a work of genius. Jackson often had all three.