constructive way without losing sight of the shared goal. We had Louis "Thunder Thumbs" Johnson, who had
worked with Quincy on the Brothers Johnson albums. We also had an all-star team of Wah Wah Watson, Marlo
Henderson, David Williams, and Larry Carlton from the Crusaders playing guitar on the album. George Duke, Phil
Upchurch, and Richard Heath were picked from the cream of the jazz/funk crop, and yet they never let on that maybe
this music was a little different from what they were used to. Quincy and I had a good working relationship, so we
shared responsibilities and consulted with one another constantly.
The Brothers Johnson notwithstanding, Quincy hadn't done much dance music before Off the Wall , so on "Don't
Stop Till You Get Enough," "Working Day and Night," and "Get on the Floor" Greg and I worked together to build a thicker wall of sound in Quincy's studio. "Get on the Floor," though it wasn't a single, was particularly satisfying because Louis Johnson gave me a smooth-enough bottom to ride in the verses and let me come back stronger and
stronger with each chorus. Bruce Swedien, Quincy's engineer, put the final touches on that mix, and I still get
pleasure out of hearing it.
"Working Day and Night" was Paulinho's showcase, with my background vocals hurrying to keep up with his grab
bag of toys. Greg set up a prepared electric piano with the timbre of a perfect acoustic tone, to knock out any
lingering echo. The lyrical theme was similar to "The Things I Do For You" from Destiny , but since this was a
refinement of something I'd said earlier, I wanted to keep it simple and let the music put the song over the top.
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"Don't Stop Till You Get Enough" had a spoken intro over bass, partly to build up tension and surprise people with the swirling strings and percussion. It was also unusual because of my vocal arrangement. On that cut I sing in
overdubs as a kind of group. I wrote myself a high part, one that my solo voice couldn't carry on it's own, to fit in
with the music I was hearing in my head, so I let the arrangement take over from the singing. Q's fade at the end was
amazing, with guitars chopping like kalimbas, the African thumb pianos. That song means a lot to me because it was
the first song I wrote as a whole. "Don't Stop Till You Get Enough" was my first big chance, and it went straight to number one. It was the song that won me my first Grammy. Quincy had the confidence in me to encourage me to go
into the studio by myself, which put icing on the cake.
The ballads were what made Off the Wall a Michael Jackson album. I'd done ballads with the brothers, but they had
never been to enthusiastic about them and did them more as a concession to me than anything else. Off the Wall had,
in addition to "Girlfriend," a slippery, engaging melody called "I Can't Help It" which was memorable and great fun to sing but a little quirkier than a gentle song like, say, "Rock with You."
Two of the biggest hits were "Off the Wall" and "Rock with You." You know, so much up-tempo dance music is threatening, but I liked the coaxing, the gentleness, taking a shy girl and letting her shed her fears rather than forcing them out of her. On Off the Wall I went back to a high-pitched voice, but "Rock with You" called for a more natural sound. I felt that if you were having a party, those two songs would get people in the door, and the harder boogie
songs would send everyone home in a good mood. And then there was "She's Out of My Life." Maybe that was too
personal for a party.
It was for me. Sometimes it's hard for me to look my dates in the eye even if I know them well. My dating and
relationships with girls have not had the happy ending I've been looking for. Something always seems to get in the
way. The things I share with millions of people aren't the sort of things you share with one. Many girls want to know
what makes me tick - why I live the way I live or do the things I do - trying to get inside my head. They want to
rescue me from loneliness, but they do it in such a way that they give me the impression they want to share my
loneliness, which I wouldn't wish on anybody, because I believe I'm one of the loneliest people in the world.
"She's Out of My Life" is about knowing that the barriers that have separated me from others are temptingly low and seemingly easy to jump over and yet they remain standing while what I really desire disappears from my sight. Tom
Bahler composed a beautiful bridge, which seemed right out of an old Broadway musical. In reality, such problems
are not so easily resolved and the song presents this fact, that the problem is not overcome. We couldn't put this cut at
the beginning or the end of the record, because it would have been such a downer. That's why when Stevie's song
comes on afterward, so gently and tentatively, as if it was opening a door that had been bolted shut, I still go,
"Whew." By the time Rod's "Burn This Disco Out" closes the record, the trance is broken.
But I got too wrapped up in "She's Out of My Life." In this case, the story's true - I cried at the end of a take, because the words suddenly had such a strong effect on me. I had been letting so much build up inside me. I was twenty-one
years old, and I was so rich in some experiences while being poor in moments of true joy. Sometimes I imagine that
my life experience is like an image in one of those trick mirrors in the circus, fat in one part and thin to the point of
disappearing in another. I was worried that would show up on "She's Out of My Life," but if it touched people's
heartstrings, knowing that would make me feel less lonely.
When I got emotional after that take, the only people with me were Q and Bruce Swedien. I remember burying my
face in my hands and hearing only the hum of the machinery as my sobs echoed in the room. Later I apologised, but
they said there was no need.
Making Off the Wall was one of the most difficult periods of my life, despite the eventual success it enjoyed. I had
very few close friends at the time and felt very isolated. I was so lonely that I used to walk through my neighborhood
hoping I'd run into somebody I could talk to and perhaps become friends with. I wanted to meet people who didn't
know who I was. I wanted to run into somebody who would be my friend because they liked me and needed a friend
too, not because I was who I am. I wanted to meet anybody in the neighborhood - the neighborhood kids, anybody.
Success definitely brings on loneliness. It's true. People think you're lucky, that you have everything. They think you
can go anywhere and do anything, but that's not the point. One hungers for the basic stuff.
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I've learned to cope better with these things now and I don't get nearly as depressed as I used to. I didn't really have
any girlfriends when I was in school. There were girls I thought were cute, but I found it so difficult to approach
them. I was too embarrassed - I don't know why - it was just crazy. There was one girl who was a good friend to me.
I liked her, but I was too embarrassed to tell her.
My first real date was with Tatum O'Neal. We met at a club on Sunset Strip called On the Rox. We exchanged phone
numbers and called each other often. I talked to her for hours: from the road, from the studio, from home. On our
first date we went to a party at Hugh Hefner's Playboy Mansion and had a great time. She had held my hand for the
first time that night at On the Rox. When we met, I was sitting at this table and all of a sudden I felt this soft hand
reach over and grab mine. It was Tatum. This probably wouldn't mean a lot to other people, but it was serious stuff to
me. She touched me . That's how I felt about it. In the past, girls had always touched me on tour; grabbing at me and
screaming, behind a wall of security guards. But this was different, this was one-on-one, and that's always the best.