by Alan K. StoutMusic Columnist
It’s been about 48 hours now since I found out that Michael Jackson had passed away. In that time, I’ve been doing what a lot of us have been doing: trying to digest the news while watching a lot of the 24-hour coverage on TV. I’ve also been listening to a lot of Jackson’s music, and thanks to the many tributes on MTV, VH1 and even CNN, I’ve seen a lot of his videos for the first time in many years. And I think I’ve realized something that I’m not sure I ever fully knew about myself.
I’m a pretty big Michael Jackson fan.
If you had asked me a few days ago if I was a big fan of Michael Jackson, I probably would have said, “I like some of his stuff. He’s got some great songs.”
But today, as I sit here listening to tracks such as the magnificent “Human Nature” and The Jackson 5’s “I Want You Back,” I realize that would have been a terrible understatement.
I was smack dab in the middle of my high school years back in 1982 when Jackson dropped the bomb known as “Thriller.” It was at the time of life when you absolutely consumed pop music, and in the early ’80s, there was a lot to consume. People like Prince, The Police and Bruce Springsteen were releasing milestone albums, and MTV was playing their videos 24 hours a day. It was an incredibly exciting time for music, and though I was also inclined to gravitate towards some of the popular hard-rock bands of the day like Van Halen and Def Leppard, there was no escaping the long musical shadow cast by “Thriller.”
How big was the record? Well, I’m going to use an old phrase that I have never used before in one of my columns, and one that I think anybody over 35 or so would agree with: “You simply had to be there.”
Hit after hit after hit after hit after hit came from the album. It seemed to go on for two straight years. The videos were mesmerizing. It won eight Grammys.
I can still remember the night Jackson performed on Motown’s 25th Anniversary Special and first debuted the “moonwalk.” People who grew up in the ’50s and ’60s often fondly recall the electricity of seeing Elvis Presley and The Beatles on the “Ed Sullivan Show” for the first time. For the kids of the ’80s, Michael’s magical moonwalk was one of those moments. It was the talk of the classroom in school the next day.
Still, at the time, I didn’t view myself as a fan. But the more I think about it, the more I now know that I was. My bedroom walls may have been covered with posters of The Who, The Rolling Stones, KISS, The Police, Judas Priest and Springsteen, but I also watched those great Michael Jackson videos every time they came on. Even then, with its beautiful delivery and melodies, I had a soft spot for the song “Human Nature,” and my friends and I proudly had the now famous lyrical line “Ma Ma Se, Ma Ma Sa, Ma Ma Coo Sa” from the song “Wanna Be Startin’ Somethin’” scribbled on the wall of an old unrented apartment that my parents let us use as a hangout.
We also loved Eddie Van Halen’s guitar solo on “Beat It” and the two duets Jackson did with Paul McCartney, “Say Say Say” and “The Girl Is Mine.” In fact, 10 years later, around 1992, my best friend and I got up on stage at the old Market Street Square nightclub one night and gave a slightly inebriated karaoke rendition of “The Girl Is Mine” to everyone at the bar. Jackson also released another pretty cool tune in the mid-’80s that seems to be somewhat forgotten. “State Of Shock,” which he recorded with Mick Jagger, again paired him with rock royalty. I liked that one, too.
In 1987, with “Bad,” Jackson delivered his third landmark album. (“Off The Wall,” from ’79, was his first.) “Man In The Mirror,” “Dirty Diana” and “Smooth Criminal” were fabulous, and the video for the latter was particularly stunning. An old friend and I reminisced this weekend about how, years later, around 1995, I went through a brief period when I sometimes wore a white fedora-style hat with a black band above the brim. It was a cool hat. I liked it. My friends liked it. I nicknamed it my Michael Jackson "Smooth Criminal Hat" and would sometimes break into the song to amuse my friends. Not long after that, my cousin borrowed my “Motown #1 Hits. Vol. 2” CD because he loved The Jackson 5’s “I Want You Back.” How much did he like it? Well, we both laughed when he finally returned it. Ten years later.
Back at the time of the release of “Thriller,” everyone from my mom to my 6-year-old sister loved Michael Jackson. And I can still remember the night in the early ’90s when I was at the The Woodlands 25th Hour Dance Club for Halloween. It was 10 years after the album’s release, it was the first time I’d heard the song “Thriller” in many years, and it was the first time I’d ever heard it blasting through such a deluxe sound system. It was still simply amazing and never sounded better.
One of the coolest things Michael Jackson ever did occurred on the night that he debuted the “moonwalk” on the Motown special. It’s 27 years now since I’ve seen it, but I can still remember the way he introduced the song “Billie Jean” to the audience. He had just performed a few of his older hits, and the crowd was still buzzing. He acknowledged to the audience that he, too, enjoyed the old songs. “But,” he said, slowly, in an almost whisper, “I really like the new songs.” He then gave one of the most memorable performances in television history.
That attitude had a great impact on me and how I approach being a fan of pop music and even how I approach being a music journalist. If you are open to new music, you will always continue to discover new music that you enjoy. I’ve always hated Bob Seger’s “Old Time Rock and Roll” and everything that it stands for. Of course I have my old favorites, just like we all do, but being open to new sounds as well is what allows me to continue writing a weekly music column about new bands and playing their songs on my radio show. It’s what allows us to help showcase new local talent each year on a CD called “Concert For A Cause.”
All of these thoughts and memories came back to me this weekend. I even reread my old Times Leader review of Jackson’s “HIStory” album from 1995, which I hadn’t looked at in 14 years. Though that album came after Jackson was first accused of child molestation and many, including me, had begun to sour on him, I was fair in my assessment of the music and had some high praise for some of the new tracks, particularly “Stranger in Moscow.” It was a strange time, because by then, I think I had realized that I was indeed a fan, yet the thrill was clearly also gone. I thought much of Jackson’s work in the ’90s was bland, and I had a very hard time understanding why anyone would pay anybody millions of dollars in a legal settlement if they were accused of doing something they didn’t do. I wouldn’t give anybody a dime if they accused me of doing something I didn’t do.
As we all know, the accusations of 1993 were not the last. More came a decade later, and Michael Jackson’s career would never fully recover. And even prior to that, he seemed to lose his sense of cool. A tribute show was done in his honor at Madison Square Garden in 2001. Ideally, he would have got up on stage and jammed “Billy Jean” with somebody like Prince. Instead — though the show reportedly had a few good moments with some bright young stars — there were also odd and windy speeches by Marlon Brando and appearances by other older cronies. With his early ’90s hit “Black or White,” Jackson incorporated some elements of hip-hop and rap into parts of the song. But rather than have the actual rapper who sang on the track appear in the video, the part was lip-synced by Macaulay Culkin. It all felt sterile.
I wrote a story for the Times Leader on Friday about Jackson’s death in which we talked to a few local people that actually knew him and with another journalist that covered his criminal trial. They seemed to see him as a tragic figure, and in the case of the reporter, he was viewed as a dangerous man, especially to children. These things, even at the time of his death, also must be discussed and considered when looking back at his life, even though many, including me, are saddened by his passing. Unfortunately, his incredibly odd behavior over the past decade, the criminal charges and the continued suspicion of his guilt are all an equal part of his legacy. The same goes for his endless stream of plastic surgeries that in essence became self-mutilation. Great talent. Strange man. Shocking end. That is the Michael Jackson story.
Considering all of this, can I still be a fan? Of course I can. But in a way that I’m still a fan of people like Elvis Presley, John Lennon, Jim Morrison and Jimi Hendrix. Those artists, because of their early deaths, are frozen in time. And though Michael Jackson did not die until last week, to me, it was almost as if he began to die in 1993, when both his behavior and appearance began to change so drastically. In recent years, whenever I’d hear one of his great old songs on the radio, I honestly thought of him in the past tense, as if he was already dead, because I knew that the man who made “Off The Wall” and “Thriller” and “Bad” was never coming back. And thinking that way actually allowed me to still enjoy the music, because despite the oddity of Jackson’s personality and lifestyle and my own changed feelings about him, I was able to place his greatest songs in a different time in his life, and in mine.
Today, as I write this, Michael Jackson is being mourned by millions. Some of the most moving scenes I’ve seen have been of people, around the globe, simply gathering together by the hundreds and dancing to “Thriller” in the streets. Jackson even managed to put music back on MTV for a few days, which also brought back some great memories. It appears people everywhere are doing the same thing I’m doing. They’re separating the music from the man — at least the man of the past 15 years — and celebrating his songs. And as I sit here listening to “Human Nature,” I’m 15 again, and it’s the summer of ’83, and Michael Jackson is everywhere. The only difference is that I now know what I should have known then about much his music, and what I eventually came to realize.
I am a fan.
