THE MORNING BRIEF

TMB v12, Issue 12
June 26, 2009

REMEMBERING MICHAEL

Well, Michael. You caught me with my guard down today. I did not expect you to go this soon, with more to do and so much more to be said.

Michael, you were the most talented person in the world for nearly every year you were living in it. Your star burned brightest and weirdest longest. And though you threatened to piss us off and freak us out at the end almost as much as you thrilled us in the beginning, there were a good 25 years or so in the middle where you just plain rocked. That’s what we loved about you, Michael, and why we can forgive the crazy shit, at least a little bit, for you today.

You grew up in front of all of us. World famous as a singer and dancer, emotionally expressive and brilliant to watch by the age of 10. Michael Jackson began as a phenomenon, blossomed as a teen then teenage superstar, and went on to achieve a level of achievement and fame that transcended the very concept of stardom itself. The supernova of the media explosion that has evolved into today’s simultaneous overstimulation and mass anaesthetization (SOMA) of the culture. A sort of human Ground Zero. Truman from “The Truman Show” without the dome.

Not that you didn’t stake your claim to be the real life Boy in the Bubble. Hyperbaric chamber, pet monkey, and Elephant Man bones among your oh so American penchant for collecting things. If indeed it’s true that he who dies with the most things wins, your backyard amusement park and Serengeti Petting Zoo sure qualify you for a place in the finals. However, it’s even more true that in a world where we place all our value in the things we own, in the end our things will come to own us.

And I think that’s what happened to you on your way down the yellow brick road, Michael. Your dancing and singing should have been gifts enough. Your songwriting and choreography, your image-making. Your sense of show. All of these things, for so many songs, so many years, were so incredibly right on. From the syncopated family funk of the Jackson 5, to the surreal tenderness of “Ben,” a love song to a rat, and then with three minutes of dancing on the Motown 25 show -- the moonwalk that put you in outer space. A place from which, sadly enough, you never really came back.

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I loved Michael Jackson…when he was black. I struggled to understand and empathize with the increasingly odd and eccentric Jacko, his attraction to plastic surgery, and troubling affinity for young boys. Was his one, glittered glove a hint, symbol of the attraction to affectation that apparently destroyed him, or was it simply a red herring?

We know Michael had a Peter Pan thang going on. And Psycho Joe made him hate that he could never be the cute little 12 year old we saw on TV. The prodigy who stole our hearts singing and dancing his ass off to “The Love You Save” on The Ed Sullivan Show. At his peak, the greatest singer/songwriter/dancer who ever lived. And the answer to the musical question, “What would happen if you crossed Elvis Presley with Michael Jordan?” All that money, all that talent, all that fame. Must it undo everyone? Apparently growing up famous gives one every possible chance to have a messed up life. One of the few ways in which Michael Jackson was not the exception, but the rule. Michael’s particular fate was to become the dog that wished he’d never stopped being a puppy.

Before today, I admit, the work of Michael Jackson had landed in a place of moral and artistic purgatory in my mind. His music, his soul, symbolically under lock and key to the nightmarish freak show his life had become. The media juggernaut, that which launched him into the stratosphere, had yanked him out of orbit and tore him apart molecule by molecule. It hurt to watch it. It must have been nuts to live it.

As in every great tragedy, lessons abound. All that money, all that adulation, can’t buy you self-love or self esteem. But with Michael you were always better off just kicking back and letting him entertain you. Don’t dig too, too deep. It’s hard to feel good when you see someone you know, someone we all know, who was special and wanted one more shot and died just before he got it. But now, in the final wake of such great potential thwarted, what makes me feel best is listening to his amazing music, revisiting the images, remembering his many achievements as a musical and video artist. A maestro of multimedia. The songs, the hooks, that beautiful falsetto. Today it’s OK to love Michael Jackson again.

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The self-proclaimed King of Pop, Michael Jackson was also the Jackie Robinson of MTV. So many hits, and the best-selling album of all time by far. “Billie Jean,” “Rock With You,” “Off the Wall.” Gems of pop and soul, so many produced by Quincy Jones, like “Human Nature” and “I Can’t Help It’ (the latter co-written with Stevie Wonder), “Can You Feel It” and “Show You the Way To Go” with his brothers. That incredible hook in the chorus of Rockwell’s one hit wonder, “Somebody’s Watching Me.” The dancing in “Thriller,” and “Beat It,” and “Smooth Criminal.”

I’ll choose to remember Michael for Motown 25, his moonwalk electrifying a bunch of us 19-year olds in Kande Iken’s basement, staring at the screen like someone had shown us a sneak preview of The Future. Watching the Ladue pom pom squad work it out to “Working Day and Night,” at a time when sexy had just begun to mean something to me. Driving to Kansas City one summer with Barb and Steve and Anne-Marie to see the Victory Tour from nosebleed seats at Arrowhead Stadium.

Michael Jackson was an icon in every sense of the word, a cultural touchstone for more than one generation. Growing up with Michael Jackson made it easier not to be a racist. How could I have anything but love for people like him if I wanted to be him? Not the older, desperate, more often than not ludicrous Jacko. But the young, vital, ultra-talented, sweet young boy who could sing and dance like no one we’d ever seen before. The Michael Jackson Michael Jackson himself always seemed to be trying to become. The golden boy with all the potential in the world. Can you blame him?

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Have a great week!

Your pal,
David.

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SIX DISK CHANGER >>> Hope you enjoy the TOP 10 TRAX in The Morning Brief Music Player. Let me hear about your favorites.

1. Systematic Colours, "Volume 2"
2. MSTRKRFT, "Fist of God"
3. Claude VonStroke, "FabricLive.46"
4. Gui Boratto, "Take My Breath Away"
5. Bassnectar, "Underground Communication
6. U2, "No Line on the Horizon"
7. A-Trak, "Infinity + 1"

This week’s 10 Trax (now playing in the Morning Brief Music Machine):

1. The Suburban Knight, “Collaboration Alpha”
2. Kilowatts, Tanner Ross, “Kruger Fingers”
3. Loco Dice, “Tight Laces”
4. Deekline & Wizard, “Handz Up (Stanton Warriors Remix)”
5. Deekline & Wizard, “Scratch (Beats for the Jeep)”
6. Krafty Kuts, “Tell Me How You Feel”
7. Timebox/Stanton Warriors/Madcon, “Beggin’/Bonus Beats”
8. Boys Noize, D-Lirium & Faze, “Oh! (A-Trak Remix)/Bonus Beats”
9. Hardy Hard & Lady Waks, “Planet Breakbeat”
10. Skream, “Summer Dreams