How we were thrilled

"Baby Be Mine": Imagine if this weren't the better of the two non-singles from a monster album but a one-shot single by an unknown artist. The sweet midtempo glide of "Baby Be Mine" would have likely bubbled into the R&B Top 20 and gotten lots of roller-skate play, been included on recent mix CDs by cutting-edge European DJs and been remade as a slow jam at least three times. We'd have wondered at the bionic singer, the effervescent synth arrangements, the popping groove. In short, it would sound like the hidden classic it remains, even in plain sight. (Michaelangelo Matos)

"The Girl Is Mine": Treacly, insipid, weak, embarrassing -- that's how detractors describe Jackson's gentle sparring match with his then-favorite Beatle, Paul McCartney. Borne forward on a beat light as hair mousse and synth flourishes supplied by the guys from Toto, it's a long way from the paranoid funk of "Billie Jean." But its spun-sugar vocal line is like the G-rated version of "Unchained Melody," and the cornball lyrics (I know, "doggone") invoke a show-tune Arcadia that both MJ and Macca fought to preserve as pop got ever filthier. The lift Jackson gives the word "endlessly" midsong can still make a listener feel like she's swimming in a sea of Love's Baby Soft. (Ann Powers)

"Thriller": If ever a video killed the radio star, "Thriller" was it. The song was adequately groovy -- funked-out beat, lyrics seemingly lifted from some little kid's "scary storybook" -- but the video was legendary: bearing a price tag of $800,000, the 14-minute mini-film was the most expensive video of its time. Back then it was over the top; to today's viewer, jaded by bloated-budget videos, it still looks epic -- and deliciously campier than ever. That dialogue ("I'm not like other guys")! That Vincent Price rap interlude! And, most of all, those choreographed zombies, dancing in a style that -- thanks to Usher, Ne-Yo and Chris Brown -- still gets its close-up on MTV. (Baz Dreisinger)

"Beat It": A secret not closely guarded: The uncredited guitarist who whipped out the fluttering, squealing solo on this ode to macho cowardice was Eddie Van Halen, whose extracurriculars ranked among the provocations for singer David Lee Roth's 1985 departure from the megalithic rock band Van Halen. Along with the contributions of jazz and soundtrack legend Quincy Jones as producer, Van Halen's aerodynamic metal flight pumped crossover fuel that would boost the success of "Thriller" -- a gimmick Jackson would later flog with spots from Slash and Carlos Santana. Without the Van Halen precedent, there might have been no collaboration of Run-DMC and Aerosmith on the 1986 rap/rock version of "Walk This Way." (Greg Burk)