(ThyBlackMan.com) As someone who has written about Michael Jackson before, I find myself continually drawn back into his music—not just the global hits we all know, but the ones that sit a little deeper in his discography. The ones that reveal the heart, the pain, the vulnerability, and the genius that often get overshadowed by spectacle. These are the songs that don’t always dominate greatest hits playlists, but when you hear them, they stop you in your tracks.
This time around, I wanted to go beyond the moonwalk and the platinum plaques and revisit seven tracks that I think deserve more attention—songs that speak just as powerfully today as they did when they were released. Whether it’s loneliness whispered in “Stranger in Moscow,” or the sensual maturity of “Break of Dawn,” these moments show Michael not just as a pop icon, but as an artist unafraid to show his complexity.
If you think you already know everything there is to know about MJ, these songs might surprise you. And if you’re new to exploring his catalog more deeply, consider this your invitation to discover another layer of the man behind the music.
1. “Stranger in Moscow”
Released during a turbulent time in Michael Jackson’s career, “Stranger in Moscow” is easily one of his most underrated songs. Crafted while he was touring in Russia, the track unfolds like a melancholy diary entry set to music. There’s a stark vulnerability here, a somber tone that departs from the fiery activism of “They Don’t Care About Us” or the warmth of “Heal the World.” Jackson’s voice doesn’t cry out; it aches in quiet agony. This was not a song designed for radio—it was a confessional for those who truly listened.
What’s haunting about this track is how specific and cinematic it feels. The sound of rainfall, the subtle echo of footsteps, the cold synth lines—they all place the listener squarely inside the emotional solitude Jackson was experiencing at the time. Lyrically, it’s sparse but loaded with meaning. “Armageddon of the brain” is a phrase that feels almost surreal in a pop song, but in Jackson’s world, it makes perfect sense. The emotional breakdown becomes the story itself. He’s not merely describing sadness; he’s embodying it with every syllable.
Musically, the song is minimalist yet rich. The soundscape feels like soft rain falling over a barren street—its slow tempo, ambient synths, and layered harmonies creating a sense of emotional isolation. There’s almost a Brian Eno-like texture to the production. The haunting refrain, “How does it feel / when you’re alone and you’re cold inside?” is repeated like a chant, reinforcing the mood of exile and detachment. Producer-wise, this is some of Jackson’s most thoughtful work, with the track leaning closer to ambient pop and electronica than his usual dance-ready style.
In today’s era of mental health awareness and emotional openness, “Stranger in Moscow” is strikingly relevant. It’s a reminder that fame doesn’t shield one from loneliness, and that even icons crumble under pressure. This track speaks especially to those navigating depression or existential doubt, offering a gentle space to feel understood. For a generation that lives online and often struggles to feel seen, this song resonates more than ever. It’s an invitation to admit fragility without shame—something rare and needed in both art and life.
2. “Human Nature”
One of the most gorgeously arranged tracks on Thriller, “Human Nature” is a sonic breath of fresh air. Written by Steve Porcaro of Toto and lyrically reimagined by John Bettis, it drifts away from the album’s more dance-heavy material and settles into a meditative, synth-soaked reverie. Jackson’s delivery here is gentle, almost ethereal, his voice gliding above the track with feather-like lightness. If Thriller was meant to be a pop blockbuster, “Human Nature” was the deep-cut that gave it soul and atmosphere.
The real genius of this song lies in its contradictions. It’s at once intimate and vast, personal and universal. The lyrics—“Looking out across the nighttime / the city winks a sleepless eye”—paint a portrait of urban loneliness, a theme that feels increasingly relatable in our digitally overstimulated, emotionally starved world. This is Jackson in philosopher mode, asking “why?” not to provoke, but to understand. That pursuit of emotional honesty is what makes the track timeless.
What makes “Human Nature” endure isn’t just its production or its melody—it’s the way it captures the spirit of wonder and vulnerability. The lyrics ask simple, almost childlike questions: “Why, why, tell ’em that it’s human nature / Why, why, does he do me that way?” In this context, Jackson plays the part of a boy lost in a big city, both enamored and confused by human behavior. That open-ended questioning aligns with the best of R&B, soul, and soft rock of the early ’80s, and yet Jackson elevates it into a timeless meditation on empathy.
In 2025, the track can be seen through the lens of introspection and emotional nuance. It asks us to accept flaws as part of our shared humanity. With ambient R&B making a big comeback in contemporary music, “Human Nature” fits seamlessly next to modern artists like Frank Ocean or Daniel Caesar, showing that Jackson was often ahead of the curve. This song also reminds us of Jackson’s vocal mastery—he doesn’t oversing. Instead, he chooses precision, phrasing, and restraint, proving that emotional intensity doesn’t always require vocal fireworks. “Human Nature” endures not just as a mood, but as a mirror held up to our own need for connection.
3. “Liberian Girl”
A standout on Bad, “Liberian Girl” is often overshadowed by the album’s other smash hits. But this smooth, sultry love song deserves its moment in the spotlight. From its opening Swahili spoken intro—”Naku penda pia, Naku taka pia, Mpenzi we” (I love you too, I want you too, my love)—to its soft Afro-Caribbean instrumentation, “Liberian Girl” shows Jackson exploring a different sonic and cultural palette, one rooted in love, curiosity, and cross-cultural admiration. It’s delicate without being dull, romantic without becoming clichéd.
Musically, the track leans into soft R&B and world music, with a laid-back rhythm that feels like a summer evening breeze. The arrangement is intricate yet relaxed. Percussion elements sit gently beneath keyboard melodies, and the bassline grooves just enough to give it a pulse without ever overwhelming Jackson’s gentle crooning. It’s a celebration of Black beauty and exotic allure, wrapped in a respectful tone that never feels exploitative or caricatured. That balance is hard to strike, but Jackson nails it.
Vocally, Jackson is at his most understated. He whispers and coos through the verses, almost as if he’s afraid to break the mood. It’s sensuality through suggestion, a technique mastered by crooners like Marvin Gaye and Luther Vandross. But Jackson’s global vision elevates “Liberian Girl” beyond a standard love ballad—it becomes a cultural bridge, a tribute not only to a woman but to a region, a people, and a musical tradition. The fact that it didn’t chart as high as other singles from Bad only adds to its “cult favorite” appeal among die-hard fans.
In today’s era of global pop and Afrobeat dominance, “Liberian Girl” feels prophetic. Jackson anticipated the global fusion of sounds that now dominate the charts. Artists like Burna Boy, Wizkid, and Tems owe some of their crossover success to Jackson’s willingness to explore non-Western musical aesthetics long before it was trendy. And in 2025, where listeners crave sincerity and authenticity, “Liberian Girl” resonates as a work of genuine affection. It’s not performative—it’s personal. That makes it more than a love song. It’s a musical offering that celebrates the world beyond the West, delivered with grace and groove.
4. “Ghosts”
Often buried under the weight of the HIStory and Blood on the Dance Floor eras, “Ghosts” is a cinematic experience in both sound and concept. Co-written with Teddy Riley, this song—and its accompanying 39-minute short film—pushed Jackson into horror-themed performance art territory, echoing the theatrical boldness of “Thriller,” but with darker undertones and a more complex emotional narrative. It’s not just a music video—it’s a short film with themes of alienation, accusation, and vengeance wrapped in dance and visual effects.
The song itself plays like a fusion of industrial pop, new jack swing, and gothic horror. The production is layered and unrelenting, filled with mechanical beats, eerie synths, and stop-and-start rhythms that keep the listener off balance. Jackson’s vocals oscillate between snarl and shriek, his delivery teetering on the edge of rage and exorcism. The lyrics are both cryptic and autobiographical. “Who gave you the right to shake my family tree?” he hisses—more an accusation than a question. The metaphorical “ghosts” represent society’s judgment, the media’s vilification, and the monstrous image painted of him.
What sets “Ghosts” apart is its theatricality. This isn’t just music—it’s storytelling through tone and atmosphere. The song builds tension like a suspense film, and Jackson uses his voice not just to sing but to inhabit a character. That character is cornered, judged, and ultimately chooses to confront his demons by becoming what the public fears most. It’s a stunning act of self-reclamation, and one that speaks volumes about Jackson’s life in the public eye.
For modern listeners, “Ghosts” feels increasingly relevant in a world quick to cancel and slow to forgive. In the age of social media trials and the erasure of nuance, Jackson’s defiant anthem against being misunderstood hits harder than ever. And in 2025, with genre-bending music becoming the norm, this track doesn’t just hold up—it stands tall. It’s an audio and visual declaration that pain can be turned into power, and that sometimes the best revenge is owning your narrative, even when it’s cloaked in shadow.
5. “You Are Not Alone”
Penned by R. Kelly but made iconic by Jackson’s interpretation, “You Are Not Alone” is a classic 90s R&B ballad elevated by sincerity. It holds the Guinness World Record for being the first song to debut at number one on the Billboard Hot 100, but its deeper achievement lies in its emotional universality. This is a ballad about grief, loneliness, and spiritual comfort—core elements of the human experience, wrapped in the kind of vulnerability Jackson rarely showed so plainly.
Jackson sings this track with a rawness and grace that stands in contrast to some of his more theatrical work. The lyrics don’t aim for cleverness; they aim for the heart. “Though you’re far away / I am here to stay,” he croons, offering a balm to anyone nursing the wounds of loss. His voice gently floats over soft keys and subtle strings, never overpowering the message. There’s a gospel undercurrent in the arrangement, but it never becomes preachy—it’s simply soothing. That restraint is what gives the song its power.
In today’s climate, with so many people recovering from pandemic trauma, personal losses, and societal upheaval, “You Are Not Alone” carries even more weight. It feels like a lullaby for adults, a reassurance whispered into the void. The simplicity of the melody, the repetition of the chorus, and the gentle swell of the instrumental backing all contribute to a kind of emotional medicine. It doesn’t seek to fix the pain—it seeks to sit with it.
Its stripped-down production also offers a refreshing break from overly polished contemporary ballads. Sometimes all you need is a heartfelt vocal and a poignant message—and Jackson delivers both here. For modern artists like Sam Smith or Adele, whose music leans into emotional transparency, “You Are Not Alone” serves as a blueprint. And for listeners in 2025, it’s a reminder that tenderness can be just as powerful as passion.
6. “Dirty Diana”
At first glance, “Dirty Diana” might seem like a detour into rock for shock value, but it’s so much more. Featuring blazing guitar work from Steve Stevens (of Billy Idol fame), the track is an emotional tempest masquerading as a seductive tale. This is Jackson at his most conflicted—caught between lust and loyalty, fame and faith. It’s a song full of tension, and that tension becomes the core of its brilliance.
The structure of the song builds with deliberate intensity. The verses begin with Jackson almost whispering, creating an air of temptation and secrecy. But when the chorus hits, it’s explosive—guitars wail, drums crash, and Jackson unleashes a vocal that is equal parts fury and desperation. His cries of “Dirty Diana, no!” are not commands, but cries for help. He is spiraling, and the listener is caught in the storm. It’s visceral, and it’s unforgettable.
Thematically, “Dirty Diana” offers a raw glimpse into the challenges of celebrity. Groupie culture, manipulation, and the erosion of personal boundaries are all on full display. In an era where the scrutiny of public figures is relentless and parasocial relationships blur lines of intimacy, the song’s themes have aged with eerie relevance. Jackson isn’t celebrating this lifestyle—he’s condemning it, or at least pleading to be freed from it.
In 2025, “Dirty Diana” still rocks hard. Its fusion of pop and hard rock has aged well, thanks to the resurgence of guitar-driven music. The song could easily sit beside modern-day hits by artists like Halsey, The Weeknd, or even Olivia Rodrigo, all of whom explore similar themes of power and seduction. Its production feels as sharp as ever, and Jackson’s performance remains one of the most emotionally raw in his catalog. It’s not just about sex or temptation—it’s about the collapse that follows.
7. “Break of Dawn”
Nestled within Invincible—an album often overshadowed by industry politics and tepid reviews—“Break of Dawn” is a lush, velvety gem. It finds Jackson returning to his romantic roots, but with a more adult tone. This isn’t a bubblegum love song; it’s sensual, grown, and gorgeously textured. It’s MJ as a soul singer, indulging in quiet seduction rather than spectacle.
The track opens with birds chirping and soft keys, setting the stage for a sunrise rendezvous. Jackson’s voice is relaxed and intimate, caressing lines like, “Let’s go down to the park / Making love ‘til it’s dark.” There’s a cinematic quality to it, like a scene unfolding in real time. The Marvin Gaye influence is evident here, particularly from albums like I Want You or Let’s Get It On. But Jackson makes it his own through his breathy delivery and harmonic layering.
“Break of Dawn” deserves praise for its simplicity and sophistication. There are no gimmicks—just pure mood. The instrumentation is warm and inviting: soft percussion, a mellow bassline, and fluttering synths that wrap around the vocals like silk. Jackson doesn’t belt or perform; he whispers, teases, and glides. It’s the kind of vocal performance that reveals its charm over repeated listens.
It also highlights an underappreciated side of Jackson: the balladeer who can set a mood without theatrics. “Break of Dawn” is MJ grown up—not chasing trends, just making beautiful music. In 2025, when sensuality in R&B has made a stylish return, this song proves Jackson was always a step ahead. You can hear its influence in artists like Miguel or Giveon—musicians who blend vulnerability with eroticism in equal measure. “Break of Dawn” is more than a hidden gem. It’s a masterclass in slow jam seduction.
Revisiting these songs reminded me why Michael Jackson’s music still means so much to so many of us—not just for the glitter and chart success, but for the emotion, vulnerability, and innovation he poured into even the lesser-known corners of his catalog. There’s something powerful about hearing a song like “Ghosts” in today’s climate, or sitting with the raw comfort of “You Are Not Alone” after a tough week. His music doesn’t just entertain—it connects, reflects, and sometimes even heals.
These seven tracks may not always make the top 10 lists, but they’ve stood the test of time in their own quiet, meaningful ways. They feel even more potent now, in a world that’s louder and more chaotic than ever. So if you haven’t listened to them in a while—or maybe never really gave them a proper chance—do yourself a favor. Put on your headphones, dim the lights, and let Michael speak to your soul. He still has plenty to say.
Staff Writer; Jamar Jackson
