In our household the first weekend of December was traditionally the day the Powell’s would bring down the Christmas Tree and bag of decorations from the attic. I can vividly remember wrestling the tinsel away from our cat Simba whilst the 1997 Smash Hits Poll Winners Party played out in the background. I always loved this tradition. Positioning each decoration so that they appeared evenly across the branches and watching pop stars mime into their head mics at the same time. One performance this year stopped me in my tracks. Whilst coordinating the baubles Janet Jackson took to the stage to sing Together Again and I was transfixed. The costumes looked like Vivienne Westwood had reimagined Andrew Lloyd Webber’s Cats by way of Alexander McQueen. Janet herself smiling so sweetly whilst singing about an absent friend that the warmth from her was tangible through the screen. But more than that I fell in love with dancing in that moment. The choreography for the song was so fresh it possessed me in minutes and I knew that I wanted to be one of her dancers more than anything.
I had recorded the show on VCR and the following day I feigned a mystery illness, so I could stay home from school and learn all the moves. I watched Janet’s performance repeatedly from the comfort of my duvet sprawled sofa. I loved the way the choreography amalgamated street dance with Asian influences and I felt a connection to the spirituality of the song. It took me all day but bit by bit, under the glow of flashing tree lights, I pieced together most of the routine and practiced with sweaty determination until it gave me a headache. The dusty fairy perched atop our tree must have rolled her eyes at my almost psychotic level of focus that day.
I would practice the dance in my room, on Saturdays in-between rehearsals at my theatre school and in the car whilst my Dad was driving. My Mum would always sit in the back and comment on my body jerking in the front seat, even though I was desperately trying to not move my body. It was always obvious I was dancing in my head, even though I wanted to keep it secret. I still do it now when I’m running routines through my head.
I taught my friend Cordelia the routine and she tried to convince me to perform it in the Christmas variety show. I mentioned to Mum that I was thinking of performing Together Again and she immediately became the sole member of my creative team. ‘We could put your hair in bunches like Janet has it in the performance,’ she exclaimed excitedly. Inwardly I would have liked nothing more but my Dad dismissed the idea and I dismissed it too. As I also dismissed the performance altogether. I couldn’t bring myself to get up on stage and dance with Cordelia no matter how much I wanted to. I wasn’t full of confidence at this point and I settled for performing ‘Everybody’ by the Backstreet Boys as part of an ensemble piece instead.
I still regret that I didn’t dance to Together Again in the 1997 Christmas show but it has proven a memorable reminder of how my lack of esteem has gotten in the way of my decisions. I’m in a very different head space to my fifteen-year-old self but even now when I listen to Janet’s The Velvet Rope album I’m transported back to a time when I was confused about my identity.
The Velvet Rope was released 7th October 1997 and it was top of my Christmas list that year. Unlike the tribal/spiritual styling of Together Again the album artwork was more sexual. In a few shots Janet stood submissively in various latex, head bowed with a hoop piercing through her nipple (and latex catsuit!). And in another shot clasping a rope tied above her head, her back exposed to just a bra strap, inviting the listener/reader to come and play with her. It was an exciting invitation that I couldn’t resist.
The songs were full of tenacious sexuality, raw emotion and soulful R’n’B that I lapped up. She sang about masturbation, desire, same-sex relationships, domestic violence and low self-esteem. In some ways it was a subconscious buffer to some of the emotions and sexual feelings that were brewing within me and it was cathartic to dance that out with Janet from the safety of my bedroom. I also came to realise that Together Again was written for a friend that she’d lost to AIDS.
Everywhere I go
Every smile I see
I know you are there
Smilin back at me
Dancin in moonlight
I know you are free
Cuz I can see your star
Shinin down on me
It’s transformative to think of a song about an AIDS victim that doesn’t dwell on morose emotions, anger or resentment but rather celebrate the human spirit. Growing up as a child of the 80s and 90s I had always associated AIDS with a confused notion of promiscuity, homosexuality and death so hearing these lyrics coupled with Janet’s rejoiceful music video and performances formed a different context to AIDS and prompted me to learn more.
The Velvet Rope is for me an emotional compass that guided me through a testing few years. Janet was the sounding board for an uncompromising and more importantly an unresentful sexuality that I would continue to explore throughout my life.
Get Your Shit Together 