George Michael, "Faith"

Mitch listens without prejudice

Mitch Blum

CJ Kaplan

, and

Ken Warshaw

Jun 15, 2022

Mitch’s Pitch:

I owe George Michael an apology. Maybe we all do, but I definitely do.

For years I happily enjoyed George Michael’s music. What wasn’t to like? He was one of the best singers and songwriters of our generation. His album Faith is a masterpiece. I bought it on vinyl when it was released in 1987, and it still gets spins all these years later. It’s an incredible personal statement. I always respected George Michael as a musician.

But I also enjoyed him as a punchline. We all did. Jokes about his personal struggles, legal problems, and drug use. Laughing at him, even though we knew that his struggles were rooted in the fact that he was a gay man who felt that he couldn’t come out of the closet, and didn’t, until he was forced to in 1998.

Looking back, it’s all so clear. Our society caused his pain and then we delighted in it. Sure, George Michael was a celebrity, but we also did it to every other gay man and woman in the nation. How cruel and shameful.

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I was raised in a liberal Jewish household that fully supported homosexuality, but definitely preferred it for other people. In the ‘70s and ‘80s gay jokes were common - just listen to Eddie Murphy’s “Delirious” (actually, please don’t) - it was the biggest stand-up tape ever, and it’s horrifically homophobic, where the punchline is always someone being gay.

We didn’t hate gay people because we didn’t really know any gay people, outside of distant cousins or movie characters. They were invisible to us, existing in Hollywood, San Francisco, Fire Island, and Provincetown. But they were frequently the butt of our jokes, easy targets, even if we never intended to be malicious.

How many kids did we unintentionally hurt with our lazy jokes? How many people did we push deeper into the closet? We didn’t hate gay people, we didn’t want to hurt gay people, but we did anyway with our careless whispers.

And for that I am sorry.

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George Michael was already a star after a huge 5 year run with Wham!, but he was tired of being seen as a pop lightweight, and craved the artistic respect that his peers Michael, Madonna, and Prince had earned in the early ‘80s. So, like McCartney and Springsteen before him, and Grohl after him, he sat alone at the proverbial kitchen table with a cassette deck and started creating Faith - a true solo album - writing, programming and performing most everything, and bringing in additional musicians as needed.

The results are astonishing: a beautiful, captivating, personal, funky, sexy, and sad album that finally let George be his true self. Well, almost, his true self, as he never discussed his sexuality openly, but he let his lyrics do the heavy lifting:

But you’ll never find peace of mind

‘Til you listen to your heart

People

You can never change the way they feel

Better let them do just what they will

I always loved “Kissing a Fool” because it’s a pitch-perfect jazz ballad with an insanely good lead vocal, but back then I missed the message. I ignored the plea for love and acceptance. Now I see it as the emotional centerpiece of the album, as the mission statement (“Please love me for who I am!”) and I adore it even more, even as it’s tinged by tragedy.

The other two soul ballads on Faith, “Father Figure” and “One More Try” are just as powerful, with simple drum loops and organ providing a subtle platform for George’s powerful voice. He has it all as a singer - the raw instrument, the phrasing, the control, and most of all, the sincerity. George inhabits his songs so thoroughly that you believe every word out of his mouth. He was a truly transcendent singer.

The first single off Faith - “I Want Your Sex” - was actually first released on the Beverly Hills Cop II soundtrack and was considered so risque that Casey Kasem wouldn’t even say the name of the song on air. Everyone remembers the super-sexy video (MTV would only air it late at night) but most people forget parts 2 and 3 of this fantastic song suite. Where part 1 establishes the funk with that incredible bass drop, part 2 goes full R&B horns, and part 3 (which closes the album) gets a little smoother with a hint of new jack swing.

There are no filler tunes on Faith, just banger after banger showing George’s stylistic range, from soul to rock to pop to funk to dance to jazz, proving that he had so much more to show the world, even if he wasn’t quite ready to show the world everything.

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I see now how hypocritical it was to take pleasure from Geroge Michael’s music while also taking pleasure from making fun of George Michael. I also see how good intentions don't make up for hurtful sentiments, and I’m going to do my best to make sure that I don’t unintentionally harm more people with careless jokes. We can’t make up for the past, but we can learn from it. Let’s put the great George Michael in a place of pride on Newbury St. He deserves it, even if we didn’t deserve him.

CJ’s Response:

I always thought George Michael would’ve made an excellent heavy metal front man. A dude with his pipes would have tore it up in a band like Judas Priest or Iron Maiden.

Apparently, I wasn’t the only one who felt this way. In an otherwise horrific interview with Rolling Stone following the release of the Lies EP, Axl Rose describes a conversation he had with George about their respective musical styles. George told Axl that he loved G n’ R’s melodies and didn’t understand why they covered it with all those loud guitars. Axl replied that it would be nice to hear some crunchy axe work in support of George’s killer voice.

As it turns out, that was the framework for how I listened to Faith.

First off, I think we can all agree that there are several staples on this album that rightfully find their way onto any Best of the ‘80s playlist. The title cut, “Father Figure” and “I Want Your Sex, Part I” are certified pop royalty. I’m kind of surprised Mitch didn’t mention “Monkey”, which never fails to get a carload of Kaplans groovin’ to the beat on one of our long road trips. It’s also the only song on this album that doesn’t feel like a confessional. Michael is looking beyond the mirror to a problem that isn’t necessarily his own.

As I made my way through the rest of the album, I felt an odd sense of dislocation. Hearing “One More Try” made me think of Soundgarden’s “Say Hello to Heaven” and suddenly I wanted to hear George sing “Rusty Cage” or “Black Hole Sun”. Listening to “Look at Your Hands” conjured memories of “Life in Wartime” by the Talking Heads. George as a punk/new wave crossover? Yeah, that would’ve worked too.

Aside from my reimagining of George Michael on every song, another parallel came to mind with repeated plays of Faith. I’ve read Pride and Prejudice several times over the last thirty years. It is one the great works of English Literature, people routinely count it among their desert island books, and serious writers cite it as the inspiration for everything they do. Each time I read Pride I hope that this is the time I finally get excited about it. And each time I feel bad that I don’t.

If I were giving a tour of the Newbury St. Collection one day and we came to this album, someone in the group could rightly ask, “Hey CJ, why did you admit this album to the Collection?” As of today, my reply would have to be, “I guess because I felt bad.”

And that’s not a good enough reason.

Pitch Failed (I do know a good metal cover of “Careless Whisper” if you’re interested.)

Ken’s Response:

There’s certainly a lot to like about Faith. It’s an album with a consistent theme, it’s confessional in a sort of covert way, it’s totally catchy, and there are several tracks (“Faith”, “Father Figure”, “I Want Your Sex Pts. 1 & 2, “Kissing a Fool”) that I enjoy. On the other hand, I didn’t find anything special about the album, which was disappointing.

The whole album is trying way too hard to keep up with the Madonnas, Michaels, and Princes that dominated the pop charts back then. But while Madonna was finding something new and exciting with every release, Michael Jackson was the reigning king, and Prince was completely redefining the world of pop, George Michael was just making a mostly pleasant experience, without actually taking musical risks. I find “Monkey” to be a 25 second song on a loop that never ends, and the entire rhythm section on “Hand to Mouth” sounds like it was recorded on a $40 Casio keyboard. “Look at Your Hands” is stereotypical bad ‘80s pop. The lyrics are squeezed into phrases that don’t really fit the music, and the accompaniment is simplistic in a juvenile sense.

I’m not going to take the bait on Pride Month either. Yes, when I was a child we used the word “fag” to mean jerk or idiot, and I regret every single time I uttered it. I wish I were a much more educated and accepting 12 year old. But in my adult life I’ve embraced all people no matter who they love. While I empathize with Michael and everything he went through, I’m not ready to pay him reparations by letting a subpar album into the Newbury St Collection.

Pitch Failed (wake me up before you go-go and put this album on)

Mitch’s pitch was unsuccessful and George Michael’s Faith has been exiled from Newbury St.

We’re waiting for the day when you’ll give Faith one more try and heal the pain by dropping by the comments section and letting us know if George Michael can make you love him or if you’ll let the sun go down on him.

Exile on Newbury St.

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