Have any of the Jacksons been as unfairly treated as Janet?
Sure, Tito has been the butt of the joke since the Jackson 5 days, and La Toya has been remembered more for being the spokesperson for the Psychic Friends Network, but neither of them were ever regarded that seriously.
Janet on the other hand…Before the Super Bowl incident turned her into a punch line (and brought the term “wardrobe malfunction” into the vernacular), there was a time when Janet wasn’t just poised to live up to Michael’s star—it looked like she might pass it.
Control, her third record—and first after firing father Joe Jackson as her manager—is a massive statement that established her as a megastar in her own right, kicking off a run of five straight Number One debuts, and serves as a reminder to anyone who has diminished her place in pop culture to Nipple Gate.
The title track kicks off the album with a spoken word manifesto: “This is a story about control. My control. Control of what I say. Control of what I do. And this time, I’m gonna do it my way.” What follows are nine tracks of unadulterated pop music, weaponized as a tool of the Feminist Revolution. Janet has full agency of herself, and she uses it. She calls out mediocre romantic partners (“What Have You Done For Me Lately“), dispenses with catcallers (“Nasty“), and enjoys her sexuality on her own terms (“You Can Be Mine,” “The Pleasure Principle“). It’s an anthem of raw Girl Power, shattering the Baby Sister image that her father had been pushing as her manager.
Not there isn’t any tenderness on this record: the assertiveness of the first side is largely tempered by the B-side. “Let’s Wait a While” is as lovely a pop ballad as any put to tape. “He Doesn’t Know I’m Alive” is positively coy, showing a demonstrably different side of the coin from the Miss Jackson who chases down catcallers and deadbeats. “When I Think of You” wraps up the ecstatic thrill of being in love and puts it to pianos and drum machine grooves. “Funny How Time Flies” is a soulful R&B ballad that mourns how quickly a night with your paramour is over.
All of this is put to some of the catchiest pop grooves ever recorded, wrapping R&B, disco, and synthpop up in a tight package with a bone-deep hip hop sensibility. As much as people might want to point to similarities with her older brother’s work on Thriller or Off the Wall, it bears a much closer resemblance to the 100-mph Minneapolis sound of Prince. Bass synths pound the ground like a tap dancing rhinoceros, butting its syncopation between ticks of the drum machines. Punchy synth leads wail through irresistible hooks without worrying about whether they should take it easy on the mod wheel. The first side runs between tracks without stopping, making the hyperactive instrumentation even more of a whirlwind. the B side is more delicate both in terms of attitude and energy, but after the marathon of the first half, it’s a welcome breather
In a lot of ways, Control is a protest record. It is a call to arms against the forces that have sought to rob Miss Jackson of her agency and subjugate her, whether it be her father, her recent ex-husband, or the male-dominated sexual economy. In the years since, it has become a template for female pop singers—especially among Black women, who statistically have less agency of themselves than any other group. Would there be a Nikki Minaj or Rihanna or Beyonce without Janet Jackson? It’s hard to say—there have been plenty of strong Black women in the musical landscape before Janet: Eartha Kitt, Diana Ross, and Bessie Smith come to mind. But those stars might not be as dominant a force in the pop mainstream without Control blowing the door off of its hinges first.