Oct. 25, 2024

Michael Jackson - "Thriller"

Michael Jackson  - "Thriller"

This chilling audio ritual conjures how Michael Jackson's "Thriller" became a seismic Halloween transmission summoning humanity's darkest energies. Tracing the song's infusion of ancient occult dread with MJ's euphoric funk exorcisms, it explores Quincy Jones manifesting a transcendent pop demon. The making of the iconic music video thriller transforming Michael into horror's ultimate pop revenant is dissected in ghoulish detail. The way "Thriller" codified an annual zombie ritual honoring Jackson's sacred duality as slick virtuoso and dark shaman is celebrated. Ultimately, the song's singular phantasmagorical vision fusing music, dance, and cinema into eternal Halloween possession is enshrined.


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In the immortal annals of pop music's most incendiary cultural transmissions,

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few have scorched the world's consciousness with the same combustible

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force as Michael Jackson's nineteen eighty two Apocalypse funk masterpiece Thriller.

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From those first Opalne synth stabs and Vincent Price's ominous

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narrated into Nations, conjuring the funk of forty thousand years,

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we're plunged into an electrifying temper vortex, one where ancient

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occult dread intertwines with Jackson's futuristic, danceable euphoria to spawn

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an entirely new, generational demonic vision. This wasn't just another

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in the gloved Ones pantheon of smash hit singles facilitating

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the planet's dance floor rapture.

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No.

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In the seven and a half bewitching minutes of Thriller,

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Michael Jackson revealed his true cosmic rock star destiny to

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distill the entire breadth of human fear, desire, and adrenaline

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into a singular, pulsing, pantheonic ritual of musical and visual

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sorcery bubbling beneath the initial layers of pop escapism. Coursing

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through nineteen eighty two's Thriller album, Jackson and producer Quincy

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Jones had harnessed something altogether more primal. The thunderous, libidinal

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vibrations of the human soul's most elemental driving forces, sex

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death transformation from the song's initial synth drenched dance grooves,

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manifested oceanic tides of the funklysium, Jackson's euphoric howls, enchanted

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at their core, yet nefarious demonic rips in the spacetime continuum,

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tugged incessantly. It's close to midnight and something evils lingering.

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That desolate whisper of grim premonition from Vincent Price's first

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entrance only intensified how deeply Jackson immersed himself into the

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shadows to birth his ultimate pop demon while other hits

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from Thriller, like beat It and the title track showcase

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the King of Pop's unparalleled sonic deification of daily strife.

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Thriller found him penetrating deeper into the arcane underbelly of

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showmanship and funk metaphysics. With the songs closing vamp coder

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cycling Jackson's high pitched streaks, Price's warning becomes Doom's self

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fulfilling prophecy. No mere mortal can resist the evil of

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the Thriller. Suddenly, the singers blissed out Zenith's transmography into

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involuntary spasms, as if the abysmally unholy forced he'd conjured

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was commandeering not just Michael's vocal chords, but the entire

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musical ritual into soul shattering apotheosis. It was the moment

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Michael Jackson merged mortal pop virtuosity with outright demonic possession.

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Thriller's closing seconds fuse electrobeat bombast with the visceral horror

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scape of Jackson's vocal deification warping into Beel's Abubian armageddon,

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the final portal to the darkly sublime Halloween portal he'd

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manifested through songcraft was now fully breached. Of course, the

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full seismic impact and horror fantasy immersion of Thriller wasn't

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unveiled until its iconic fourteen minute music video transmission hit

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global airwaves in December nineteen eighty three. Working alongside Zombifide

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maestro John Landis and choreographer Supreme Michael Peters, Jackson transformed

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the song's relatively concise pop convulsions into a full night

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of grand guignoles, spectacle, and dance floor necromancy. When Mike

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Sill and his ghoul date Ola Ray famously shed their

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human skin to reveal bloodied undead creatures prowling a thicket

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of yellow eyed zombies. When the opening vamp drops to

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reveal Jackson's blood curdling howl and choreographic delirium, whipping his

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crew of graveyard dadites into synchronized submission. This was no

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mere bit of MTV ephemera. This was a young artist

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taking the entire concept of pop entertainment into pitch black

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metaphysical territory for nearly a quarter hour. Thriller's groundbreaking visuals

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spliced glimpses of Jackson's joyous, danceable grace with unrelenting images

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of supernatural voodoo and primordial horror, unleashed upon a banal

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suburban subdivision. Yet throughout its genre splicing odyssey, through teen romance, schlock,

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creature feature, and avant dance recital, a singular, cohesive vision

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remained intact. Michael J. Jackson had become the eternal balancer,

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weaving transcendent pop ecstasy with ancient ancestral fears from the

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darkest human subconscious. With undying charisma and Terpsichorean brilliance, he

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beckoned everyone across the planet to submit to the rhythm,

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all while shape shifting into pop's ultimate reaper, lurking beneath

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the pulsating four quarters groove. It was the literal birthing

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of pop's most perfect Halloween monster, Michael the funk Revenant,

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forever daring audiences worldwide to find rapture in the unquenchable

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nightmare rendered irresistibly funky. When the full length thriller Opus

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hit the stratosphere, two decades of collective pop culture consciousness

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shifted irrevocably in its wake. Suddenly the entire world was

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enthralled by Michael Jackson and his metaphysical pop ghool gestalt

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sacheting between blissful dance ecstasies and dark forbidden imagery far

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beyond traditional music video spook show, the youth of multiple

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generations absorbed the zeitgeist, capturing choreography with baited breath, codifying

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Thriller as a new ritual of demonic pop's solstice. The

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Zombifide Coder became an annual tradition, a full blown spiritual

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celebration honoring Jackson's full continuum of showmanship from slick pop

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virtuoso to dark Sharman Reaper. For kids across the globe,

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learning Thriller's rhythms and grotesquery was a rite of passage

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into true pop magic. The video's impact rippled far beyond MTV.

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Its striking imagery, instantly recognizable worldwide apparel, product lines, haunted

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attractions all were inevitably co opted by Thriller's nulled grasp.

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For decades to come, an entire occult mythos had blossomed

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across all commercial forms, all paying tribute to Michael's ultimate

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pop seance manifesto. More in a moment, nearly thirty five

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years after those first ghouls crept on mass across the screen.

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Thriller's masterful synthesis of spooky, funk and avant pop abides

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as a singular cultural monolith, forever fusing music, dance, cinema,

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and horror into one perfect phantasmogorical marriage. It stands alone

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in the annals of popular art as a tootemic supernatural

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vision manifested by one solitary, multi hyphenate deity operating on

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an entirely separate creative plane from mere hit singles or

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music videos. As the Hit Maker Chronicles has illuminated, Michael

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Jackson's Thriller was far more transcendent than its seven minute

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compact pop perfection, Grammy acclaim, or record smashing statistics suggest

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it was the sonic and visual embodiment of one singular

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artistic visionary's ability to summon eternal, elemental driving forces towards

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the collective submission we all secretly crave. Within its grooves

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and undead imagery lies the primal urge to confront our

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most arcane fears and metaphysically transmute them into euphoric pop ritualism.

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So go ahead, submit to Thriller's eternal Halloween possession once more,

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lose your in its crimson siren song, summoning dancers and

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ghouls to thrash in unholy communion. Can you feel an

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ancient demonic spirit, a forbidden reckoning seeping through the dance

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floor as the synth stabs penetrate your soul. This is

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Michael's Knight of the Living Dead, his darkest pop seance,

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with the unholiest of groove magic fueling each note. As

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that iconic scream fills the atmosphere. Feel Vincent Price's old

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world necromancy fuse with Michael's peerless thrashing into an incantation,

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unleashing your own gravest of terrors. Now let the rapture begin.

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I'm Andrew Irons and this has been another engaging episode

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of The hit Maker Chronicles. Join us next week as

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we continue to uncover the stories behind the songs and

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artists that have left an indelible mark on the world.

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The Hit Maker Chronicles is a production of Calarogus Shark

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Media executive producers Mark Francis and John McDermott. Portions of

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this podcast may have been created with the assistance of

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Ai