Older is a dark album. Forget about all of those broody metalheads sporting warpaint and screaming about Satan over blast beats and tremolo-picked guitars, this album is genuinely dark, palpably agonising and it uses an array of styles in order to emit the nuances of Michael’s anguish and cognitive dissonance. At this point, for the uninitiated, you’re probably asking yourself how the hell George Michael, one of the biggest pop artists of the eighties and nineties, went from being a bubbly popstar sensation who sang about being on the dole and having steamy sex over archaic synthesiser, to crafting intensely emotive songs in an almost unrecognisable fashion? Welcome to post-mortem, the essay series that deep-dives into some of my most revered works. Whether you’re a fan of George Michael’s very modest volume of work or not, Older is nevertheless an intriguing monster bathed in sorrow, confusion and, surprisingly, optimism over what George was going through between the time of Listen Without Prejudice Vol.1 and his seminal masterpiece, Older. On a personal level, George Michael’s third album is one of my all-time favourite albums and as such, is easily Michael’s magnum opus (which isn’t to be trifled with when you consider every one of his works are, at the very least, excellent). However, what makes Older such an interesting case study is how it was birthed on, arguably, some of the darkest events of Michael’s entire life. These events would cement his direction in 1996; an album that would take six years to come out after the release of Listen Without Prejudice Vol.1, and it’s here where I hope to dissect the meaning from most of this near-perfect project.

A Prelude of Things to Come

I

The events that unfold during and after Listen Without Prejudice Vol.1’s production are solid precursors for Older’s sombre aesthetics. Shortly after the release of Michael’s sophomore album in 1990, he went up against the hand that feeds – Sony. Once over, a sequel to Listen Without Prejudice Vol.1 was in the pipeline but George felt Sony, the label he was signed to at the time, wasn’t believing in him or respecting his artistic vision and the decisions he was making (as well as blaming Sony for the poor sales in the US). Indeed, Listen Without Prejudice Vol.1’s wasn’t quite the booming success its predecessor was, and that was largely down to George taking a very aberrant approach to the record’s promotion… in that there wasn’t going to be any. The artwork alone is just one example of heated contention between George and Sony. The idea of a massive pop artist releasing an album with artwork that didn’t have the bright, handsome singer on the front cover was understandably one the label wasn’t thrilled with embracing as the new paradigm. Nevertheless, what we got was the iconic black and white crowd shot we now know to house Listen Without Prejudice Vol.1‘s music – a shot that didn’t have Michael’s face anywhere near it. On top of that, the gargantuan and strenuous world tour George did for Faith had a massive impact on his mental health, thus giving him an aversion towards extensive touring from thereon. His idea behind the great music he was recording was that Listen without Prejudice Vol.1 was going to promote itself. The chickens would inevitably come home to roost, but for George, his idea of promotion meant that flashy, narcissistic music videos and live renditions were a thing of the past and completely unnecessary in order to get the album out into the world.

As you can understand, Sony had concerns with how George was handling the album – probably envisaging a downward spiral into the realms where massive commercial disasters reside: two music videos, both lacking the man himself in front of the camera, and a much less focused touring cycle that saw Michael covering some of his favourite songs over actually promoting Listen Without Prejudice Vol.1’s tracks. Testament to Michael’s relevance at the time, the sales figures were still surprisingly solid, selling over seven million copies, however, all of this culminated into something that would fracture the foundations of Michael and Sony’s relationship – subsequently starting a long, arduous lawsuit against his label to break the eight-album contract deal he had struck with them back in 1988.

II

The lawsuit wouldn’t come into fruition until 30^th October, 1992, but by the end of 1991 the impetus of tragic events would be set in motion. During the Rock in Rio 2 concert of 1991, George’s eyes would become transfixed on a handsome young Brazilian man, nestled in the front row of this mammoth 130,000 crowd. That man was Brazilian fashion designer Anselmo Feleppa, who would only be a part of George Michael’s life for a short period of time but would change it forever. Upon meeting each other, they instantly hit it off and become enamoured with each other. Finally, George had met someone who overcame simple desires and lust for the flesh, actually being with someone he legitimately and unconditionally cared for. It didn’t take George long to realise he had found the love of his life, and though he hadn’t publicly affirmed his sexual orientation to the world yet, he had stated in many interviews afterwards that he didn’t tuck Anselmo away like a dirty little secret. Unfortunately, by the turn of autumn that year, after enjoying their first summer together, Anselmo broke the news that he had tested positive for HIV. The gay scene in the eighties was rife with the disease, and it was becoming increasingly more prevalent in the mainstream consciousness by the turn of the nineties, with big-time artists like Freddie Mercury testing positive.

By Christmas 1991, Freddie had died from the disease just a month prior and George was in pieces wondering if Anselmo was going to pull through from this devastating illness, all on top of questioning whether he had contracted it himself. A very lonely time for George, since he was going through the nightmare on his own, as his family didn’t actually know he was gay at the time. When the results came back, George had tested negative, and for the year that followed he would continue to flex his philanthropic disposition to the world by bringing awareness of AIDS to the people using his platform, performing AIDS awareness charity gigs all the while praying for Anselmo’s health. Yet, the following year on 26^th March, 1993, Anselmo had died at his home from a brain haemorrhage caused by AIDS. Worse still, while this tragedy had rocked George’s world, he had to remain strong as he was now going through the lawsuit with his label. A case that, by 1^st June, 1994, Michael had lost; the court had rejected his claims and deemed the contractual agreement to be “fair”. While the result was far from amicable, it did eventually lead to George breaking away from Sony’s eight-album-contract-deal, where he subsequently signed to Virgin/Aegean Records for Older’s release.

Image: Courtesy of Special Collections, University of Houston Libraries

The Aftermath & “Jesus to a Child”

After all that had ensued in 1993/94, fans would still have to wait a further two years before Older reached store shelves. Largely down to being overwhelmed with depression and exhaustion, George wasn’t able to write a complete body of work following the death of Anselmo and the strenuous lawsuit he had just been through, respectively. However, in spite of Older being a distant pipedream, one track did get written and recorded during this time period – and it’s blatantly apparent it was made as a coping mechanism of sorts; a therapeutic purge and one that bathes in self-reflection on his recent tragedy. “Jesus to a Child” is a heart-wrenching bossa nova styled dirge used to beacon and assimilate the aching grief of his lover, of course this was also done with some semblance of optimism as well – a trait that speaks volumes about George’s personality.

“Jesus to a Child” was written in mere hours, and the track would go on to be the foundations for Older’s construction. Inserting myself into this piece; there are very few tracks that get to me emotionally, I’m very much a visceral music listener who doesn’t tend to dissect the meaning behind lyrics and themes to songs unless I’m really into the music, in which case there has to be a lot of substance behind what is being said. In relation to “Jesus to a Child,” this track is brimming with meaning and emotion: it’s a superbly composed piece of music that displays George Michael at the absolute pinnacle of his craft. The gradual melancholic swells that set the stage, the opening guitar solo and that laidback, sashaying groove synergises with those crisp drum taps. It’s all meticulously arranged to elevate what is the most extravagantly emotive and despondent performance of Michael’s career. The lyrics themselves don’t beat around the bush either, in fact, ironically, they have a callous proclivity to the way they earnestly present themselves. Essentially “Jesus to a Child” is about George meeting the love of his life (Anselmo) and having it savagely ripped from him, as he laments:

“Kindness
In your eyes, I guess
You heard me cry
You smiled at me
Like Jesus to a child

I’m blessed
I know
Heaven sent
And Heaven stole
You smiled at me
Like Jesus to a child”

The opening verse ascribes Anselmo as being a kind of demigod – he had that much of an effect on George. But it also doesn’t hold any punches in making it clear Heaven took him away just as quickly as he came. What’s immensely inspiring about this track though is the segue into optimism – it’s a watershed moment that sees Michael looking into the glass and observing a glass half-full, rather than half-empty:

“And what have I learned
From all this pain
I thought I’d never feel the same
About anyone
Or anything again

But now I know
When you find your love
When you know that it exists
Then the lover that you miss
Will come to you on those cold, cold nights”

Rather than cursing at the sky for his misfortunes, he decides to take the omnipotently classy route in understanding that he got to meet the love of his life – as short-lived as it was – and that he will always be with George during those days where he’s struggling most. This is a display of the genuine selflessness Georgios was so well-known for. His empathy for others was truly authentic and he understood that people go through their entire life not meeting their true love, and that even though it was only for a brief period of time, at least he got to meet his before Anselmo’s untimely end.

Older and Wiser

“Jesus to a Child” is a barnstorming track, and it was a single reciprocated with audiences in 1994, becoming a massive commercial success. Soon George would begin work on the rest of the album, but before we look into what Older offers listeners, let’s look at context and where George was at at the time of writing. He had lost his lover, he had just lost a costly and arduous lawsuit, AIDS was a looming threat, and he still hadn’t publicly come out as gay yet, so was still living in the shadows with that, even though it wasn’t that big of a deal to him. If “Jesus to a Child” was Older’s foundation, these four areas would become the pillars of Older’s thematic yarns. As well as Anselmo being the centrepiece for the album, the record was also dedicated to Brazilian composer Antônio Carlos Jobim, who’s bossa nova style had become a massive inspiration to him when writing the record. On 13^th May, 1996, Older would finally become a reality and was met with a tepid response from critics at the time, but was a huge financial success. The response in hindsight is understandable. This album is a daring artistic peregrination into the unknown, and an unheard-of gamble for an artist in the field George resided in.

I recently reviewed Billy Eilish’s new album, where I found a startling resonance in her artistic choices and hearing them tied to Older’s brand. In the sense that on the surface, it appears a little repetitious, dull and homogenous in style. Both records were made to be very subtle burns, requiring a lot of listens to fully appreciate and absorb the intricacies and layers being presented to the listener. But more than that, both of these albums go against the grain of what’s to be expected of them as artists. Of course, Eilish’s new album was met with critical acclaim, but George was doing something very unorthodox at the time of Older’s release, and it’s easy to see why critics had a lukewarm response to Older’s classy repose. A lot of people just weren’t ready for it. The entire aesthetic oozes sophistication; when you listen to it, you feel as though you’re relaxing in one of London’s finest chic wine bars, in your favourite designer suit. The artwork yields to the mugshot he was so against last time around, but it’s done so with allure and class: an effective elemental style that has half of George’s sombre visage promoting Older’s clean font and modest size. You can just tell from looking at the cover for it, George was in a very different place to where he was six years prior.

As a George Michael record, you won’t find another LP as intimate or as honest. It’s like a diary being adapted into an album. As with anyone in a state of grief, coping mechanisms are made in order to control loss, and you can definitely tell these songs were made to purge any demons he was wrangling. One of the more interesting aspects of Older comes from the first two tracks: the transition from the poignant dirge “Jesus to a Child” into “Fastlove” and the blaring juxtaposition both songs represent. The aforementioned opener is like a eulogy, but the upbeat funk banger “Fastlove” is George severing his emotional ties on monogamy, purely operating on primal urges and in search for nothing other than meaningless sex:

“Looking for some education
Made my way into the night
All that bullshit conversation
Baby, can’t you read the signs?

I won’t bore you with the details, baby
I don’t even wanna waste your time
Let’s just say that maybe
You could help to ease my mind
Baby, I ain’t Mr. Right

But if you’re looking for fast love
If that’s love in your eyes
It’s more than enough
Had some bad love
Some fast love, is all that I’ve got on my mind”

There’s little to search for in regards to esoteric lyrical subtext; it’s clear where George is at emotionally here, and the track sternly and transparently affirms its disposition with a happy-go-lucky aesthetic. The odd thing about “Fastlove” – besides being one of the best songs on the album – is it only reveals this facet of emotion once. It’s as if George needs to vent his frustrations, and by doing so, he’s getting it out of his system so the album can simmer back down from the boil to stay the course, serving up sophisticated, lavish, multi-layered instrumentals under more reserved – albeit deeply emotive and dark – lyrical themes. Dark and emotive indeed, “You Have Been Loved” is another pain-fuelled ballad that taps into Michael’s struggles trusting God, whilst apologising to Anselmo for struggling to be stronger during his decline in health. “Star People” is cut from the same cloth as “Praying for Time’” in that it takes jabs at people in the entertainment industry for their vapid hedonism. While “To Be Forgiven” hears George sinking into a deep depression, desperately searching for someone to help him overcome the grief he’s feeling, potentially even contemplating the idea of suicide:

“Suddenly my life is like a river
Taking me places I don’t want to go
But like all good men who swim too well
It takes all that I have just to cry for help
Then that voice in my head tells me no
I’m going down
Won’t you help me
Save me from myself
I hear the sound of the memory
Maybe, who can tell?”

And “Spinning the Wheel” commentates on the spread of AIDS, and how so many people take such heedless gambles with strangers, having unsafe sex and potentially contracting the disease:

“You’ve got a thing about danger
Ain’t you getting what you want from me
And I don’t wanna go back there
You’ve got a thing about strangers
Baby that’s what we used to be
I don’t wanna go back there
You’ve got a thing about danger baby
I guess the hungry just can’t see
I’m never gonna back to there and that’s a fact baby
One of these days you’re gonna bring some home to me
To me

Spin the wheel.”

In short, Older is laced up with some really heavy subject matter that isn’t easy to digest on early listens. The album also stands out like a sore thumb when you line it up with 95% of the commercial pop music out there, even by today’s standards. The production values and content contained within are second to none, especially from an artistic standpoint. As strange as it sounds, George Michael had a punk-like quality in the way he said things, and it makes songs like “Star people” and “Spinning the Wheel” all the more admirable for it. Nevertheless, earnest social statements aside, the grief here goes to idiosyncratic levels – intimate chapters that have George Michael inviting you to experience the pains and tribulations he was going through and feeling in between 1991 through to 1996. The consistently vagrant and sombre tone being run with throughout was also a very bold move for an artist who, just ten years prior, was once writing vibrant bubble gum pop tunes for teenage girls.

The nuances here are numerous. Its replayability is nigh on bottomless, and its depth runs deep into the soul. Older turned twenty-five in May this year, but its timeless quality is still revered by millions today, and for good reason. There are few artists in music’s documented history that have stared into the abyss this earnestly and daringly and recorded an album with such palpable despair and honesty. Few would dare to search the existential like George Michael does here, but in doing so, it makes Older the timeless artistic triumph it is.

You have been loved.