"They wanted to tear down this family's name," the four remaining Jacksons told this paper recently, referring to the controversies which dogged their late brother Michael before his untimely death in 2009 – everything from unproven child molestation allegations to plastic surgery, iffy records and chimpanzees.
However, the Unity Tour – their first since 1984 – is their long overdue attempt to restore the Jackson surname to its once unassailable position as the most famous family name in pop, synonymous with some of the greatest pop music ever made.
This hour and a half long show threw everything into the task: Jacksons' songs, Michael's songs, 10-minute funk jams and stellar early 70s hits from when the four men onstage (plus Michael, then a golden-voiced child) formed the Jackson 5, and Motown label recordings such as I Want You Back and ABC laid the blueprints for how so much pop sounds today, from hip hop to One Direction.
The Jacksons were never quite the same once their little brother embarked on the solo career which peaked with 1983's Thriller – still the biggest selling album of all-time - and this gig somehow reached another level when he was in the room in some form – whether as songwriter or on screens, which prompted audience cries of "We love you Michael".
But opening stompers Can You Feel It – the 1980 hit which was recycled by acid house acts a decade later – and an uproarious Blame It on the Boogie provided early reminders of the Jacksons' formidable strengths without him, and turned the Apollo into a giant disco.
Jackie, Tito, Jermaine and Marlon now have a combined age of 233, but, in their glittering outfits, from Row Z at least, the world's biggest ever boy band barely looked older than Take That, had better voices and pulled off spinning dance moves which would put their younger successors in hospital.
As their musicians skipped from funk to soul to rock to honeyed balladry, there was an innocence about songs such as Heaven Knows I Love You Girl and Michael's blissful Rock With You which combined with nostalgic images – the Jacksons on the cover of long-forgotten pop mags, or piled up asleep together on a bus as unwitting children in the midst of a global pop phenomenon. They were never a political band, but Man Of War sent a timeless pacifist message backed by the now rarely seen logo of the Campaign For Nuclear Disarmament.
There were moments of real emotion. A near-tearful Jermaine sang Michael's 1991 song Gone To Soon under images of his departed sibling, and the same brother's show stopping, massed arms-waving rendition of I'll Be There touched places few pop songs can reach.
I Want You Back may have been played "like we did it on the Ed Sullivan Show in 1969" but deserved more than a fleeting place in an admittedly sublime Jackson 5 medley. A Jermaine solo spot felt like a minor lull but operated as a calm before the storm. Michael's demise meant he never got to make his own live comeback, but extended funk renditions of Wanna Be Startin' Somethin' and Don't Stop 'Til You Get Enough provided a glimpse of what might have been, before the Jackson's own Shake Your Body (Down To The Ground) completed the process of quaking the building to its foundations.
Before this tour, Jackie Jackson talked of wanting to honour their catalogue and their brother with "integrity." When the last controversy has been forgotten and there are no longer any Jacksons left to sing, their songs will be remembered.
