Faith (1987) - George Michael

The pretty boy frontman of a pop group going solo might be the most well worn trope in pop music, but George Michael was not your average teenybopper. Of course, Michael had made a name for himself by fronting the iconic, frivolous 80s pop duo Wham! In his fruitful partnership with Andrew Ridgeley, he wrote and performed some of the frothiest, catchiest bubblegum pop of the mid-80s with hits like “Wake Me Up Before You Go-Go”, “Freedom”, “Everything She Wants”, “I’m Your Man” and “Careless Whisper” asserting them as some of the foremost hitmakers of the decade. In 1986 they were one of the biggest acts in the world, but by 1987 George Michael was looking for a change. After dominating the record business with three monster albums, George Michael split up from his musical other half Andrew Ridgeley, determined to assert himself not just as a silly pop singer but as a bonafide superstar, meant to be taken seriously. George Michael wanted to be seen as more than just a frivolity and with this album he went far and beyond those lofty hopes. I would argue that a major part of Wham’s discography is substantial, with both their pop hits packing in delightful melodies worthy of the Motown songs that so inspired them, and their ballads delivering both silky smooth vocals and raw emotion, but with his soulful, sultry debut record Faith (1987) Michael made the leap from hitmaker to auteur. He began his solo career by topping the charts with Queen of Soul Aretha Franklin with the blockbuster duet “I Knew You Were Waiting for Me”, a strong indication of his new direction. The song made his passion for the soul music of the 60s and 70s evident, but the song still packed in the big hooks that he made his name with. Debut albums can be a tricky business, doubly so for artists who are trying to create a new identity for themselves outside of a group. While some, like Annie Lennox in 1992 or Sting in 1985 were able to successfully reinvent themselves for a new era, many flounder and lack strong direction resulting in flops or missed opportunities. That is not the case for George Michael, whose unique brand of soul melded with pop, jazz and light Prince-adjacent funk is evident from the first track. Here, he single handedly helps to craft the sound that would dominate the last few years of the decade, with both his own music, and legions of imitators taking over the charts. I would not truly classify many albums as legitimate blockbusters, but this one firmly falls into that category. Pop music would look and sound a lot different if it wasn’t for Faith.

The album opens with a conscious reference and definitive bookmark on his time in Wham! with the title track’s brief organ introduction that interpolates his 1984 hit “Freedom” which makes for a powerful symbolic message. It clearly conveys that his teenybopper days were over and that this was the birth of George Michael, the icon. The song kicks in with a crisp acoustic guitar riff laying down an infectious Bo Diddley beat boogie alongside the light, shuffling drum beat and bopping bass line creating a perfect slice of 50s rockabilly filtered through 80s pop sensibilities. “Faith”, the song, is markedly different from anything else on the album or anything else Michael has ever done, with the rockabilly flair being a complete anomaly in 1987 but Michael crafts a two and a half minute pop masterclass in terms of hooks. The track is remarkably spare, with just a three piece band backing him up but every single lick sticks in the brain with razor sharp precision, the percussive nature of the track making each beat memorable. The instrumental is secondary in all ways to Michael’s fiery vocal performance, effortlessly walking the tightrope between gritty and flirtatious, tossing off breathless vocal asides like Elvis in his heyday. The song is criminally short at barely three minutes, leaving room for only two verses and three choruses, but every moment counts, with the verse melody feeling catchy enough to make for a chorus in a lesser song and the chorus packing a percussive punch, easing on and off the notes with flash and style. The chorus is stunning in its simplicity but it is rhythmically spectacular, yet it could be argued that the pre chorus build up is the shining moment of the song, dripping in harmonies with a melody to die for. He even packs in a devilishly bouncy guitar solo which channels Elvis’s country tinged material as much as it does Chuck Berry’s late 50s boogie rock. Michael couldn’t have opened the album on a stronger note as this could be called a perfect pop song, constructed for mass impact. It is short and sweet, lyrically clever and flirtatious, making a meal of the hot and cold dynamic of the song with each word radiating charm and coy sexuality. His vocals are breathy and sensuous but nonetheless assured. He’s not afraid to belt when the song calls for it, injecting the song with a hint of the soul that will dominate the rest of the record. The song is immaculately produced, with each guitar strum radiating from the crisp sonic palette, with the vocal production in particular standing out with the plush harmonies of the pre chorus popping out from the speakers. Truly, no finger snap is out of place. In under three minutes, Michael effortlessly changes his entire image from a teenage heartthrob to an adult, oozing charm and sexuality in a particularly mature way. A perfect song, and a better album opener can’t be found.

George Michael quickly pivots from the effortless charm of the title song to the heartbreak of “Father Figure”, the first of many impassioned ballads on the record. The song opens with a plush bed of synths, gently snapped percussion and gospel organ before Michael takes the stage and delivers a truly breathtaking, staggeringly soulful vocal performance. The song is heavily indebted to gospel, particularly Aretha Franklin’s showy brand of it. The dreamy layers of keyboards and punchy bass snaps provide a lush foundation where Michael gets to soar vocally, casting off the slickness of “Faith” for earthy gospel, where he masterfully builds unresolved tension in the reserved verses, almost whispering his delivery before the chorus gives way to a pure explosion of raw vocal power. The song is an irresistible blend of measured gospel soul, and something far more intimate and sexual with the verses perfecting the breathy, sensuous delivery that he employs on the album’s quietest moments. He’s backed up by a full on gospel choir, but Michael’s power alone would be enough to floor any listener. The song runs the gamut from his hushed tones to his spine tingling passionate ad-libs and falsetto swoops. The melodies are warm and moving, and the lyrics, about his partner needing a mature lover who can provide safety and security are poetic, but the song truly lives and dies on Michael’s electric vocal performance. The song is awash in graceful, understated hooks and isn’t afraid to get languidly jazzy in places, particularly the pleading bridge section. The song is a lot more ambiguous lyrically than the previous entry, with Michael yearning for a lover who understands him, and in retrospect feels a bit like a gorgeously understated ode to his reluctance towards expressing his true feelings, ten years before he was forced out of the closet. Michael had done great ballads before, but here he turns in a performance worthy of the best soul singers from any era.

Next comes the album’s most ambitious piece, the epic, two part bedroom anthem “I Want Your Sex”, a sultry, wildly provocative song that made waves when it became a #2 chart hit. While its title was clearly meant to shock, it is more so a statement of pure sexual maturity than anything all that boundary-smashing. It would hardly make Prince blush, but it does its job well, making it clear that his teen heartthrob days were behind him and that he was now a man. The song is a beautiful ode to monogamy in the era of AIDS, giving this song a sense of emotional heft to offset its horniest moments, made even more special in light of Michael’s hidden queerness. The song itself is a well-oiled tribute to Prince, someone who’s image and sound loom large over this record, with the song’s brand of sexy synth-funk feeling heavily indebted to the Minneapolis sound. The first part of the song is the album’s most Princely moment with its heavy, sweaty synthesizer riffs melding with throbbing bass lines, cowbells and funky punches of horn. He even manages something Prince rarely did, by finding a synth tone that radiates sexuality without feeling too mechanical. The horns then brilliantly transition the song from a sultry synth-pop number into a full on pop-funk workout in its back half, dominated by the dynamite rhythm section and punchy horns. Michael’s vocal performance is a masterclass in dynamics, effortlessly switching back and forth between a whispered, sensual loverman delivery and a begging, pleading soul croon not to mention his Prince-styled ad-libs which range from sultry to startlingly forward. The opening verses show Michael luxuriating in his electric falsetto register, alternating with a gritty tenor that has a real rock and roll bite. Over these nine minutes Michael shows off every single side of his voice, turning in a chameleonic performance that challenges Prince at his own game. The song is a nine minute ode to getting in bed with the one you love, with Michael laying out a convincing case to get his lover in the sheets by pledging his love and extolling the virtues of monogamous sex, sometimes in an unintentionally hilarious list form. It could be called the hottest safe sex PSA ever recorded, but Michael never lets his important message get in the way of his seduction. While Michael’s falsetto croon isn’t quite on Prince’s otherworldly level, he gives it his all delivering a wildly smooth and kinky performance, really digging in with his gritty vocals on the second half. He even delivers some pitched up backing vocals in yet another subtle Prince homage, playing off of his “Camille” alter ego trick. The song is the funkiest piece on the album, but he never forgoes the big pop hooks, with its chorus boasting a sleazy singalong chorus. Michael turns in three or four different melodic phrases throughout the piece that could be called a chorus, but he never settles on just one, always pushing for a new catchy melody instead, while still sticking with the same basic groove for the entire song. The song could be called the sensual equivalent of Paul McCartney’s “Abbey Road Medley”. The song effortlessly transitions between myriad parts for multiple melodies and hooks, all of which build on top of one another to create the ultimate case for doing it with the one you love. Its massive nine minute run time makes it feel more like progressive rock than funk in places, with the song sporting more unique bridges than choruses. It never stays in one place too long, so it never feels its length. While part one makes for a great hit single, the second half is truly where this piece shines, with the horn section giving it a different flavor than much of what R&B sounded like in 1987, with it feeling like a throwback to the sensual 70s. The transition between the two sections where the melody stops and Michael commands the horns to kick in with a massive brassy punch is the most thrilling musical moment of the song, with Michael doing a pitch perfect kinky James Brown impression. The song ends right where it began, looping back to the original chorus for a triumphant finish. Once the song is over you truly feel like you’ve been taken for the ride of your life. A pop-funk opus. No one could say Michael didn’t belong in R&B after this one.

The first side concludes with yet another massive hit single. In fact all four songs on Side A went to either #1 or #2 on the Billboard charts, quite a feat for any record, let alone a debut! Michael turns back to the power ballad well for the spine tingling, gut wrenching vocal showcase that is “One More Try”, the album’s most emotional moment and Michael’s greatest vocal tour-de-force. The song’s base is mainly built from melancholic, yet soothing beds of plush keyboards and synths, setting a mournful backdrop for Michael to deliver a dramatic, show stopping vocal performance that could be called his career best work. His vocals take center stage, with only keyboards and a jazz-inflected rhythm section backing him up, giving him ample space to belt like his life depends on it. Lyrically, Michael delivers a powerful plea to his older, more experienced lover who he is deathly afraid of letting down. He struggles to reconcile his love for them with his desire to be his own person, in a gut wrenchingly realistic manner. It reads lyrically as the most grounded, honest piece here, aside from the closer, which pulls from the same emotional well of two lovers not on the same page in terms of emotional commitment and maturity, but he imbues the subject which such pathos and poetry it is hard to hold back tears. The song is ambiguous but it rings true in hindsight when looking through the lens of his romantic life as a closeted queer person. Interestingly enough, no song here has any clear gender pronouns when referring to a lover, so Michael was never putting on a mask, and instead relied on vagaries to produce his art. The song punches hard in an emotional sense, due to Michael’s soaring, full voiced performance which challenges the best singers who came before him channeling the massive range of Freddie Mercury and the sheer power of Aretha Franklin but all with his own style, taking cues from gospel and a few moments of shiver-inducing falsetto. The song’s melody is simply sweeping and gorgeous on its own, but Michael makes it his own adding all sorts of embellishments and riffs to give it a soulful touch. The song makes a case for being the definitive example of how to create an enduring, emotional power ballad that avoids all the tropes that make the genre so muddled and saccharine in lesser hands. The combination of its moving lyrics, heartfelt melody and Michael’s vocal theatrics all come together to create a knockout performance which leaves this song feeling like the album’s bleeding heart. Most songs of this type would wear out their welcome in a six minute runtime but Michael makes sure the song feels potent and its length well-earned. A brilliant piece of work.

The album’s B-side is home to some of the album’s harder funk in the form of the record’s most overt Prince homage, the kinky synth-funk of “Hard Day”. The song rides a slamming drum track, throbbing funk bass licks, and angular synths as Michael delivers a sultry plea to his lover to leave their baggage at the door and throw down in the bedroom. The song isn’t as simple as it would seem with touches of synth-woodwinds in the intro that feel heavily indebted to Peter Gabriel’s “Sledgehammer” from the year before and the humorous coda which has George Michael artificially pitching up his voice to create a feminine alter-ego who sings the last verse as a witty retort to Michael’s horndog loverman persona (a vocal trick Prince used all over his Sign ‘O’ the Times album which came out earlier in 1987). The song is a hot and heavy groover that is less radio friendly than what came before, since it lacks a real chorus hook. Michael might not have the charisma or sheer sexual energy of Prince, but he does his best here and it comes off very well for him. The record’s other heavy dance track is the club slammer “Monkey”, the record’s fourth and final #1 hit song. The single was a monster in the dance arena due to its pulse-pounding drum fills, knockout bass licks, some nasty guitar and a central, spiraling synth riff that makes this the record’s most dated offering, but it is no less infectious because of it. Lyrically, it sees Michael confronting his would-be lover forcing them to choose between him and their crippling drug addiction, which makes this one of the most aggressive and gritty tracks here, as evidenced by Michael’s emphatic delivery. The song is well-constructed, packing in more hooks and melodic invention than most simple club tracks so it never gets stale. The song’s detail-oriented approach makes it relistenable, with the rhythmic fills, Michael’s falsetto riffs on the chorus and the emphatic, echoed backing vocals during the verses all adding to its replay value. This song puts Michael on the same level as Madonna and Janet Jackson in terms of late 80s dance pop royalty, but sadly Michael wouldn’t make many other tracks in this vein. Janet Jackson’s producers Jimmy Jam and Terry Lewis would remix the song, which helped send it to #1 on the charts, but the more live feel of the original makes it superior in my opinion.

The album pads its back half out with its only two non hits and while they are the weaker links of the record, both have their merits with “Hand to Mouth” featuring the album’s only dip into political waters, weaving a piecemeal tale of the hardships that come from living in America. He takes on everything from mass shootings to the troubles of adoption to women being forced into prostitution due to economical hardship, which is admirable but given this is only a four minute ballad he can only paint a relatively surface level picture. The song’s general theme of condemning obscene privilege and bemoaning the upper class’s lack of charitable impulses is something that would resurface on his later, more mature 90s work, and the song may have done better if he focused on that in particular, but as it stands, the tune has plenty of lyrical images which stick in the brain. This plush mid tempo adult contemporary number relies more on atmosphere than big hooks, but the flourishes during the “Gods of America” bridge show Michael’s way with a melody. The lack of cohesion and real emotional earnestness of his later protest songs is what makes this a lesser offering, keeping the rotating cast of protagonists at a curious distance, but the arrangement is what makes this work, with the blend of synths, piano and lilting Spanish guitar give this a different flavor than anything else on the record. If one song on here points the way to his follow-up, the masterful, heartbreaking Listen Without Prejudice (1990) it is this one. The record’s other non-single is the funky soul-rocker “Look At Your Hands”, which has Michael doing his best Mick Jagger impression over the boozy strutting pianos, brassy horns and bluesy guitar licks. Michael would never attempt such a ballsy rock song again, leaning more towards ballads and dance-pop, but it suits him well, letting him swagger vocally and show off a grittier side of his voice than he usually does. The song is lyrically a bit callous in its story of how Michael’s ex-girlfriend is now trapped in a loveless, abusive marriage and now Michael has come to ask her to run away with him. The white knight narrative is more than a little dated and the joyous, rave up nature of the arrangement and nagging melody feel incongruous with the seriousness of the lyrics, but musically this is one of the album’s strongest up tempo cuts, effortlessly blending the funk influence with the traditional blues rock. This is by far the most muscular song here, and while Michael’s cocksure posturing isn’t his strongest suit, the rock fits right in with the album’s stylistic diversion.

The album closes with its best song, the criminally underappreciated “Kissing a Fool”, my personal favorite song by George Michael, and one of my favorite songs of all time. “Kissing a Fool” is another diversion from Michael’s soulful brand of pop-funk and power ballads, instead he turns in a slow burning, gorgeous performance of this achingly pretty jazz ballad that seems built for a low, candlelight evenings spent at a classy nightclub. Michael has delivered an album full of career defining vocal performances up to this point, but here he shows off his versatility as a jazz vocalist, with this song showing Michael in an assured, smooth, buttery place with charisma and romanticism worthy of any of the great jazz singers of the first half of the 20th century. The arrangement is a masterpiece taken on its own, with a lush, live jazz backing underscoring Michael’s nuanced, heart wrenching performance. The combination of lightly brushed drums, lilting, jazzy piano and tasteful upright bass with the occasional fill from the horn section provide an almost cinematic backing track, but the focal point is always Michael, earning the spotlight with each crystalline, clear as a bell note. The song’s gentle swing flavor underscores the song’s achingly resigned heartbreak, delivering an effortlessly emotional performance without ever becoming overwrought. The song is structured like a jazz piece, alternating between gentle, gorgeously resigned verses and two distinct bridges. The first is a slow burning pivot into more soulful territory before the second bringing the song to an impactful, dizzying climax where Michael belts the ascending melody with drama and heartbreak radiating from each note. He hits the highest reaches off his voice in a dazzling display of talent that still serves the song as opposed to just showing off before he returns to the verse for one final heartbreaking time with even more resignation than before. The measured change in dynamics alone is enough to bring a tear to your eye. The song’s instrumentation subtly changes with each section, adding in ascending horn lines and languid bass and gentle guitars when necessary, showing off Michael’s eye for details in arrangement, but he also knows that this song lives and dies on his performance, and every element is there to serve the central heartbreaking message of the song. He displays incredible range and technique, while also playing the song close to his chest for much of its runtime. He could just use this tune to show off his chops, but by singing it this way he makes it so much more resonant. Lyrically, the song is the most nuanced and mature on the record, with Michael singing about the end of his relationship with someone who wasn’t in it for the long haul and how he fooled himself into thinking it was something more than it was. The sense of romantic resignation and ennui permeates so deeply. The song breaks my heart every single time. The song is another that would foreshadow Michael’s latter day jazzy pop style, but he never bettered it. This remains the best performance he would ever commit to tape, putting him in the same league as Frank Sinatra and Ella Fitzgerald in terms of vocally interpreting songs. This can sit among the great jazz standards easily. It ends the record on a perfectly melancholic note with the graceful final verse, delivering the heart shattering title lyric in the song’s last bar. A cherry on top of a perfect song.

The album sports one hidden track on certain additions, with the soulful, nocturnal ballad “A Last Request”. The song makes is a sultry Marvin Gaye styled smooth seductive bedroom ballad that is a supposed reprise of “I Want Your Sex”, but feels far sexier than anything on the album proper. The song is a continuation as opposed to a pure reprise, with its steamy arrangement built around plush, lovely synth pads, smooth keyboard licks and silky horns. The song is slight, and lyrically it comes off a bit pushier than necessary in places, but anything delivered in Michael’s gorgeous, buttery tenor goes down easily. A warm and sensual way to wrap up the record, even if “Kissing a Fool” makes for a far more impactful closer.

More than any other genre, pop can sometimes struggle in the album format due to the genre’s reliance on strong singles over full album statements, which makes those rare pop masterpieces all the more satisfying. Faith (1987) is, if nothing else, a showcase for one of pop music’s most compelling performers, letting his voice shine through in ways he never was able to in the confines of Wham! Not only is this a powerhouse set of vocal performances, Michael also asserts himself as a massive talent behind the boards, producing and arranging the entire album, giving it the unique, timeless flavor that makes it stand out from almost any other music being produced in 1987, lacking the dated, synthetic feel that makes a lot of late 80s pop feel stiff and manufactured. He also wrote every single track here, which shows off his remarkable versatility, turning in power ballads, dance tracks, pop, funk, rock and jazz all in equal measure, confident and assured as ever would be as a performer. He is a craftsman working at the peak of his powers in the pop world. Soon after this, Michael would retreat from the high stakes world of pop music and make more emotionally resonant, jazzy adult contemporary albums that were the work of an older, more emotionally vulnerable person, but here he balances that raw emotion that made so much of his work resonate with an acute ear for hooks and melodies. Pop has rarely ever been quite so graceful, charming and consistent. While Michael’s future work is certainly worth a lot, particularly as a queer musician making songs that hit especially hard during the peak of the AIDS crisis, but this remains his unquestionable masterpiece. An infectious blend of perfect pop craftsmanship and soulful, graceful maturity. This makes a case for being one of the great treasures of pop music from any era.