Replay: The Jackson Five, ABC, 1970

The King of Pop sure has come a long way: from cherub-faced ringleader of a black soul-pop '70s sensation to the freakiest white man in America. To paraphrase another troubled entertainer straddling the color line: Will the real Michael Jackson please stand up?

How we love the multiple identities of our tabloid heroes and villains. As jury selection begins this week for Jackson's child molestation trial, the media grinder is at full gnash, and it's easy to get caught up in the whirl. The TV glistens with innuendo, hype, bombast: Here an extended profile of the pop singer featuring "exclusive interviews!"; there an in-depth piece trumpeting "unseen footage!" Most tickling and ironic of all is the fiercely stubborn undercurrent of nostalgia. Taking the focus away from Jackson's current incarnation as carnival freak, the media invariably harken back with snippets of Michael as jangle-boned first-date player on "Thriller"; or Jackson dancing with such fervor he turns into a panther on "Black or White"; or even him playing intergalactic ping pong or something in a spaceship on "Scream." And then there's the Michael Jackson of the Jackson Five--bouncing around with nary a hint of quivering neurosis that might be induced by having, say, megalomaniacal parental units bent on turning their kids into a brood of funksters who would change the face of pop--while pop changed their faces as well.

This album still whoops ass in that friendly manner of the playground tussle, the front yard headlock. Opening track "The Love You Save" surges right off the record in a startling decoupage of lite disco soul that kicks you in the shins with baby funk, and ABC doesn't let up from there--not through the broody bomp of torch song "Don't Know Why I Love You," not when dipping into the breathy pop and twanky guitars of "2-4-6-8" or dreamy kiddie quintet of "La-la Means I Love You." And certainly not on the title track, the jiggling ensemble piece veritably tooting and cooing with preadolescent fervor that was so nakedly innocent and yet such a guilty pleasure. It was as easy as ABC, one two three, simple as doe ray me. If only it had stayed that simple. If only.--Andrew Kiraly