I’m reminded of Les Nessman announcing the death of Bing Crosby on WKRP. “First Elvis, now Bing. Coincidence? I wonder…” Even the timing — 1977 — is just about right.
Honestly, not much of Michael Jackson’s work any later than Side 1 of Thriller has aged very well. And I’d deleted all my MP3s of his stuff after it became undeniable that his relationships with children were just too creepy. Sexual? Probably not; I think Jackson was largely asexual. But still, undeniably creepy. So much so, it became difficult to listen even to his good tracks.
And Farrah? I’m pretty sure she helped to induce my pubescence. ‘Nuff said.
Dude
Sorry, but you had his MP3s to delete? It was craptastic from the start, only cool because he was a “safe” black for the pop mainstream. You know, like a certain POTUS is now. Picture O with a glove – the media is already performing the part of the gushing teenyboppers.
Absolutely. I’m a music completist. When I want to make a playlist of stuff I was listening to, say, on my 14th birthday, it has to include everything I was listening to in April, 1983.
But sometimes I make exceptions. Not often though.
Even Thriller hasn’t aged well, I’d say Off The Wall was his high point. Still, the guy was a helluva entertainer.
And what about you? Dude! A whole Less Nessman tie in? Absolute genius! Bravo!
Michael Jackson will forever be the gold standard of crazy celebrity existence. That German king who made the castle that Disney based the Disneyland castle on? He had a hyperlogical Vulcan mind compared to Michael. Howard Hughes? A gregarious man about town. Jocelyn Wildenstien (spelling?), that woman who made herself look like a lioness? An example of subtle plastic surgery compared to Michael. Britney Spears clipping off her hair and having midnight visits from police helicopters? To MJ, that was a Sunday brunch. His musical legacy is already made, but I think his Wacko Jacko persona will be the lasting legacy.
The man was so weird that he invited boys over for sleepovers and it was quite plausible* that he invited them to sleep over. I can’t think of any other celebrities you could say that about. If Mr. Rodgers had done that, that fucking owl, Mr. McFeely, and that woman from the Museum-Go-Round would have castrated him.
*In most cases: in some instances, children’s memories may vary.
I’m about half a dozen years older than Mr. Green, I think.
I’ve never liked pop on the whole, but back when I was still dancing, Michael Jackson was unavoidable. He was the soundtrack to every jazz class.
I realized this morning that every memory I have of Jackson’s great solo hits is overlayed with a track of some instructor’s monotone rant:
“Billy Jean’s not my lover–”
Can I see group two please- 5, 6, 7 8–
“It’s after midnite..”
And one and two and turn-three-four- let’s travel, people- move your asses!
You in the front- do it over with the boys.
It’s indelible, even now.
I used to come home and take refuge in 19th century classics.
Oh, well.