Friday, February 04, 2005
Jack-O on his Back-O
I have to admit something embarrassing to my loyal readers and compulsory BE viewers… It’s something that a few of you may have suspected. I mean, it probably shows in the things I say, the movies I like, the nervous way I look at other guys at the gym, the clothes I wear, and most of all, the songs that are on my MP3 player…
I like Michael Jackson.
It’s true! And it is killing me that he has become such a sideshow.
For people my parent’s age, it is hard not to respect the Jackson 5. They were cute, represented every “school days” age, and most importantly, they were incredibly talented. Pair all of this with the impossible Horatio Alger story about a poor family from a cracker-box house in Gary, Indiana, and you have national treasures. Most amazing of all of the Jackson’s was Michael. Cute little Michael. The one with all the killer dance steps and powerful voice.
For people of my age, it is hard not to remember the “Off the Wall” and “Thriller” Michael Jackson as a sort of rock and roll god. We all learned the dance steps (to one level of proficiency or another). We about fainted when he moon walked on TV. We eagerly gobbled up the videos that ran incessantly on MTV. We owned the record and tapes, wore the pin-backs, and some of us even aspired to wear the glove… People were paying to see Jackson impersonators at this time, a fad that only Elvis had really ever created. And, of course, there was the video Thriller, which was totally awesome!
Then he went absolutely nuts. Each album, each stunt became more and more bizarre. The self-proclamations of badness and manhood seemed forced even back then. We were already laughing at his expense when his hair caught fire, what were we expected to do when he more-or-less masturbated on the hood of a car, while he smashed it to pieces?
Then there were the odd-ball cohorts, the llama, rumors of bankruptcy, the eccentric spending sprees, the Neverland Ranch, Bubbles, the Elephant Man’s skeleton, Captain E-O at Disneyworld, the Jehovah’s Witness stuff, the double-crossing of Paul McCartney, the whole Moonwalker fiasco, and the giant pseudo-Fascist marketing campaign involving a gigantic statue of Michael. His ego was growing and his sanity was fading at the same rate.
When he released “Just Leave Me Alone,” it was widely understood as a cry for help. But at that time, we thought it was a slight madness that came as a price for his incredible popularity. The man could go nowhere in the world without being mobbed. But it wasn’t long before all of the “little-boy” rumors began to spread.
There was a point where most people had written him off as a falling star, succumbing to his own quirks and dementia. We were just starting to get the full picture of what his childlike was like, and understanding what had made Michael who he is (good and bad). But he was changing in many ways, becoming cartoonish, weird, and as many comedians point out daily, white. The strange military-like shirts and face mask began to paint a picture of a reclusive has been struggling to stay out of the papers.
But then came the Oprah interview. I remember sitting at college and watching the interview she conducted on TV. There were a lot of us watching it, all interested in what was going to be said. We were waiting for him to do or say something outlandish, and he did. Overall, Oprah was respectful and painted a sympathetic picture of him; rekindling a small passion in some of us for Michael and his music. I started believing again that he truly is the King of Pop.
Not long after that things spiraled out of control. He was overcompensating in the media, trying hard to show he was both above criticism, and a normal heterosexual adult. There was an embarrassing video with Tyra Banks, sham marriages, charges of child molestation, an unpalatable duet with his sister, and some ugly words about Jews in his new songs (thought to be come-back material). And more allegations, some that were settled out of court, which fueled speculation only further.
By the time that he had accused Tony of being the literal devil, started building a conspiracy theory about why the press was out to stop him, hung his child over a railing, and the “Living with Michael Jackson” special blow up in his face, we had all grow weary of him. It was hard to even listen to his music without feeling uncomfortable, let alone be a fan.
And here we are in court again. His ranch raided by lawmen a few times, and a lot of fingers being pointed. The man is sick, and I say sick not as a judgment, but as a diagnosis. He needs help, and it may be too late. Even without the stink of child molestation, he is not an adjusted member of society. He has become forever associated with sleeping with children and being unnaturally fixated on Peter Pan.
The amazing thing about Michael he is never beyond comebacks. He has had a few in his day; the most recent one being his televised birthday spectacular. I must have watched that thing a dozen times on reruns and on videotape. I think I watched so fervently because deep down I wish that he would have never imploded. Deep down I wished I could go back to the time that I bought Rockwell’s single just because Michael sang on the chorus. Deep down, I still believed in Michael.
But I am afraid he is out of comebacks. As I said in my opening, it is killing me.
But it isn’t stopping me from totally rocking out to “Rock with You” and “Human Nature” when no one else is at home. And I’ll always have Prince…
Horn’s up.
I like Michael Jackson.
It’s true! And it is killing me that he has become such a sideshow.
For people my parent’s age, it is hard not to respect the Jackson 5. They were cute, represented every “school days” age, and most importantly, they were incredibly talented. Pair all of this with the impossible Horatio Alger story about a poor family from a cracker-box house in Gary, Indiana, and you have national treasures. Most amazing of all of the Jackson’s was Michael. Cute little Michael. The one with all the killer dance steps and powerful voice.
For people of my age, it is hard not to remember the “Off the Wall” and “Thriller” Michael Jackson as a sort of rock and roll god. We all learned the dance steps (to one level of proficiency or another). We about fainted when he moon walked on TV. We eagerly gobbled up the videos that ran incessantly on MTV. We owned the record and tapes, wore the pin-backs, and some of us even aspired to wear the glove… People were paying to see Jackson impersonators at this time, a fad that only Elvis had really ever created. And, of course, there was the video Thriller, which was totally awesome!
Then he went absolutely nuts. Each album, each stunt became more and more bizarre. The self-proclamations of badness and manhood seemed forced even back then. We were already laughing at his expense when his hair caught fire, what were we expected to do when he more-or-less masturbated on the hood of a car, while he smashed it to pieces?
Then there were the odd-ball cohorts, the llama, rumors of bankruptcy, the eccentric spending sprees, the Neverland Ranch, Bubbles, the Elephant Man’s skeleton, Captain E-O at Disneyworld, the Jehovah’s Witness stuff, the double-crossing of Paul McCartney, the whole Moonwalker fiasco, and the giant pseudo-Fascist marketing campaign involving a gigantic statue of Michael. His ego was growing and his sanity was fading at the same rate.
When he released “Just Leave Me Alone,” it was widely understood as a cry for help. But at that time, we thought it was a slight madness that came as a price for his incredible popularity. The man could go nowhere in the world without being mobbed. But it wasn’t long before all of the “little-boy” rumors began to spread.
There was a point where most people had written him off as a falling star, succumbing to his own quirks and dementia. We were just starting to get the full picture of what his childlike was like, and understanding what had made Michael who he is (good and bad). But he was changing in many ways, becoming cartoonish, weird, and as many comedians point out daily, white. The strange military-like shirts and face mask began to paint a picture of a reclusive has been struggling to stay out of the papers.
But then came the Oprah interview. I remember sitting at college and watching the interview she conducted on TV. There were a lot of us watching it, all interested in what was going to be said. We were waiting for him to do or say something outlandish, and he did. Overall, Oprah was respectful and painted a sympathetic picture of him; rekindling a small passion in some of us for Michael and his music. I started believing again that he truly is the King of Pop.
Not long after that things spiraled out of control. He was overcompensating in the media, trying hard to show he was both above criticism, and a normal heterosexual adult. There was an embarrassing video with Tyra Banks, sham marriages, charges of child molestation, an unpalatable duet with his sister, and some ugly words about Jews in his new songs (thought to be come-back material). And more allegations, some that were settled out of court, which fueled speculation only further.
By the time that he had accused Tony of being the literal devil, started building a conspiracy theory about why the press was out to stop him, hung his child over a railing, and the “Living with Michael Jackson” special blow up in his face, we had all grow weary of him. It was hard to even listen to his music without feeling uncomfortable, let alone be a fan.
And here we are in court again. His ranch raided by lawmen a few times, and a lot of fingers being pointed. The man is sick, and I say sick not as a judgment, but as a diagnosis. He needs help, and it may be too late. Even without the stink of child molestation, he is not an adjusted member of society. He has become forever associated with sleeping with children and being unnaturally fixated on Peter Pan.
The amazing thing about Michael he is never beyond comebacks. He has had a few in his day; the most recent one being his televised birthday spectacular. I must have watched that thing a dozen times on reruns and on videotape. I think I watched so fervently because deep down I wish that he would have never imploded. Deep down I wished I could go back to the time that I bought Rockwell’s single just because Michael sang on the chorus. Deep down, I still believed in Michael.
But I am afraid he is out of comebacks. As I said in my opening, it is killing me.
But it isn’t stopping me from totally rocking out to “Rock with You” and “Human Nature” when no one else is at home. And I’ll always have Prince…
Horn’s up.
Comments:
Post a Comment