Wine and Cheese: America and Janet Jackson
America’s and Janet Jackson’s sounds are incredibly different, but their “collaboration” and technical similarities embody Camembert and Cabernet as a satisfying contrast of rich and moody.
Written by Maren Bell
Illustrated by Fiona Randazzo
At a glance, the only similarities between an America album and a Janet Jackson album are their shared environments — the CD binder in your aunt’s van, the back of your dad’s drawer behind the power tools, eBay — and the soft dust that covers them. On one hand, there’s an earnest three-piece band that took a winding dirt road through folk rock and confessional pop after grabbing the public’s attention with a clip-clopping “Horse With No Name.” On the other hand, there’s an emblem of the ‘80s whose discography dives headfirst into synths and headache-inducing flourishes, fit for gritty movies and roller rinks.
Their chronological overlap in the late ‘70s and early ‘80s served largely as a bridge between the more significant times in their careers. As America abandoned its gimmick of starting album titles with the letter H, their correlative introduction of '80s pop elements — punchy basslines, conspiratorial synths, electric guitar riffs, and drum machines — drowned out their sensitive words and overshadowed their endearingly feeble voices. Comparatively, Janet Jackson didn’t find her true momentum until the late ‘80s, a force that launched her through the ‘90s and into the 2000s, when she treated listeners with breezy hits accompanied by thoroughly brazen lyrics.
Yet, when their sounds intersected, they took third place on The Billboard Hot 100.Their most explicit connection emerged in Janet Jackson’s “Someone to Call My Lover” circa 2001. An upbeat, sugary pop song toward the end of her 2001 release All For You, “Someone to Call My Lover” features a contagiously optimistic Janet Jackson dreaming of the different ways she might find “the right guy.” The track is complete with flitting laser beam-like accents, light percussion, and airy, sparse keyboard melodies. The minimal, articulate details leave plenty of room for Janet Jackson’s vocals — as well as a sample of the iconic guitar riff from America’s hit “Ventura Highway” to maintain the song’s foundation.
It’s not surprising that a folky eight-count fits perfectly within the confines of a bubbly R&B album. The acoustic guitar grounds the more modern electronic composition, preventing Janet Jackson’s fantasies from drifting away with the “Gymnopedie No. 1” interpolation. As the immediate opening to the song, the riff introduces an element of nostalgia within Janet Jackson’s newfound self-awareness as a single woman, creating a bittersweet motif as she sings about her shortcomings amid optimistic choruses. At the same time, the source material remains tonally aligned with “Someone To Call My Lover.” “Ventura Highway” tells the story of a young man dreaming of escaping to California and failing to persuade his friend to join him, echoing Janet Jackson’s idealistic longing for a fresh start.
While the artists exist on opposite sides of a sonic garden party, it seems as if America laid down techniques that Janet Jackson was eager to embrace. Comparing America directly with a Janet Jackson song highlights the technical crossovers: chiming, fluttery, and cymbal-centered percussion; understated orchestral crown molding; and a similar vocal timbre. America is practically addicted to locked harmonies and wordless vocals, both of which are largely inescapable in Janet Jackson’s songs. Within their albums, they both alternate between songs that express boundless affection and those that confess doubt, creating a whiplash effect that adds an earnest urgency to their straightforward, heartfelt lyrics. Janet Jackson’s music even seems to have taken subliminal influence from America’s discography, most notably with “Let’s Wait Awhile” mirroring the melody of America’s “Daisy Jane” and serving as a testament to their auditory synergy.More abstractly, there’s an unmistakable summer energy, capable of instilling blind faith and quick forgiveness for making the same mistakes over and over again, like in America’s “Riverside” and Janet Jackson’s “Better Days.” At their peaks, they underscore drives without destinations, burnt feet on rocks, and peace rising from boredom like curd from whey. In their troughs, they both simply succumb to the vice grip of the early ‘80s.
Though not discouraged, their similarities don’t necessarily mean they need to be enjoyed directly together. This wine and cheese is not meant to promote biting into the wheel and chugging vino and choking on it all. America is the Camembert to Janet Jackson’s Cabernet: a satisfying contrast deserving of a lush charcuterie between the rind and the bottle.