The Man in the Distance

So: icy beauty, vacuous sentiment, visceral terror. A typical Michael Jackson album, but stripped of meat. I find extraordinary beauty in the fast songs, but I don't know if it's a beauty I'll ever care about. The beauty in previous Michael Jackson albums found me. But sometimes this took a while: I was several months into Badbefore I suddenly felt it when he sang, "He came into her apartment/He left the bloodstains on the carpet"—but once I did, much of the album seemed deft, sharp, and sad.

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