Thoughts on Michael Jackson

First posted on Mark Is Cranky:

1971. In the back bedroom of a tan, single-wide mobile home in Lantana, Florida. Crank out windows. Wood- paneled walls. There I sat with my little cassette recorder, listening to "Knights In White Satin" (Moody Blues), "I Gotcha" (Joe Tex) and "Rockin' Robin" by the Jackson Five. These were songs that caught my ear, enough to merit waiting around for the next radio play so as to snag a copy with the "Play" and "Record" buttons. I just plain wore those tapes out. At night I'd plug in a "pillow speaker", slipping it under my pillow so that my favorite songs would send me off to sleep. "Rockin' Robin" had those great tight harmonies and Michael Jackson's high energy voice. It scratched just the right spot in my ten year old brain.

1972. Ben. I never did see that movie (or maybe it just creeped me out so much that I've blocked it out) but the song was all over the place back then. Since boys were attracted to the more disgusting aspects ("rats?!!! gross!!!"), we probably liked the song more than we would have liked to admit. I sure did.

1979. A couple of my best friends in high school were a pair of brothers who were best described as, well, advanced for their age. Andrew, the older of the two, was a natural athlete, music aficionado and out & out movie snob (he once spent what seemed like hours describing to me in deep and exquisite detail the technical aspects that made Citizen Kane great. Years later, when I finally saw the film, I realized that he was right).

Andrew's brother Eric was closer to your typical nerd, with interests in math and drama. I spent many nights hanging out at their house (gotta love early-to-bed parents) discussing what I'm sure we considered 'important' matters. While the ideas were tossed about, we ingested a steady stream of pepperoni pizza and music. With Andrew, the music was more adventurous. Some of our favorites were things like Jean Michel Jarre's Oxygene and Tangerine Dream's soundtrack to Sorcerer. Andrew and I even had plans to make a film. Andrew providing the writing and cinematography with me signed up for score duty. The year Andrew went off to college, Eric toned down the seriousness of the music by trying to convince me of the charms of Saturday Night Fever, Fame and Michael Jackson's Off The Wall. I can't say that "Don't Stop Till Ya Get Enough" did much for me then, but there was no denying that the production was fantastic and the tune had hooks 'a plenty.

1982. MTV. An explosion of images and music. Me and a friend spent way too many afternoons sitting around and letting this stuff wash over us. When Michael Jackson came out with Thriller his command over the world of pop music seemed complete. I really wasn't a fan of the music (OK, that "Beat It" guitar solo was cool...shhh, don't tell anybody) but the videos were a blast.

1984. "State Of Shock". This was the big single from a mostly forgettable Jackson's record (Victory). A rockin' duet with Mick Jagger, it pushed all the right buttons for me. I've still got the 45 around here somewhere.

1992. "Black Or White". Pretty much the last interesting thing that Michael has done. The twisty melody was super catchy and, sure, the video-morphing thing was kinda fun.

I realize that the presentation of these memories carries a whiff of eulogy. Honestly though, it seems as though we've been watching Michael Jackson die before our eyes. This transformation has been gradual and steady. I'm not here to absolve him (or make excuses for) of any crimes. Clearly, I don't know what he's done. A jury has found him not guilty. Still, there's no doubt in the eyes of many. I don't know. I mean, the guy has become so weird that I wouldn't be surprised to learn that he had done something with those boys...or that he hadn't.

When I see the media circus that makes its living pitching its tent next to cases like this, it just makes me sad. I've often thought about how I would be able to handle the amount of fame that has clearly crushed Jackson. What would happen if I was no longer able to drive to the store for a few things...for fear of being mobbed? Would the isolation change me? Would I push past it to remain in healthy contact with the real world?

A few years back there was a story about Michael Jackson trying to acquire the bones of John Merrick, the "Elephant Man". It's more than a little depressing that the public has come to treat Jackson very much like the Elephant Man: as a freak, as the butt of many jokes, always good for a snicker.

Just last night I watched David Letterman deliver the "#1 Thing Overheard During The Michael Jackson Verdict": "Another case of a white guy getting preferential treatment".

Yes, I laughed...but it made me sad too.

Article Author: Mark Saleski

Mark Saleski is a writer and music obsessive based out of the Monadnock region of New Hampshire. He has contributed to Jazz.com and also writes reviews for Blogcritics.org. He produces the weekly feature The Friday Morning Listen. …

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