The king of once upon a time
Michael Jackson did many remarkable things as an entertainer, and his legacy will continue to be a topic of conversation long after everyone reading this is dust.
What's most fascinating, however, is that for the most part, Jackson ceased to be anything more than an artistic afterthought long ago.
Jackson did his share of chart domination, but it was largely based on a handful of releases: "Off the Wall" (1979), "Thriller" (1983), "Bad" (1987), "Dangerous" (1991) and "Invincible" (2001).
You might be more charitable toward the "Blood on the Dance Floor" or "HIStory" collections, but nevertheless, the majority of good feelings about Jackson come via those first two albums. (And maybe "Bad," again depending on your sense of charity.)
Jackson is essentially music's version of baseball Hall of Famer Sandy Koufax. Koufax's Hall entry was based off six amazing seasons, during three of which he was not only the greatest active pitcher but was discussed in the same breath as baseball immortals.
In a time when baseball gave out just one Cy Young Award per year for excellent pitching, Koufax won unanimously three times.
In music terms, that's kind of comparable to Jackson's boatload of eight Grammys at the time of "Thriller." And from winning those, he went on to the recording session for "We Are the World."
That's a pretty decent winning streak.
Koufax was the youngest player inducted to Baseball's Hall of Fame when he was elected in 1972, just after he turned 36. And Jackson certainly sewed up his Rock and Roll Hall of Fame credentials with "Thriller," either the best- or second-best-selling album ever (depending on whether you're arguing worldwide or United States and on the current state of its competition with "The Eagles' Greatest Hits" album).
Jackson was a fresh talent with a fresh sound on "Off the Wall," to the point that some people (myself included) hearing the album for the first time doubted whether this was the same little Michael Jackson who'd thrilled us with bubblegum hits like "ABC" and "I'll Be There."
With "Thriller," Jackson expanded and perfected the formula. Some soul, some funk, some ballads, an unexpected superstar or two helping along the cause, a little jazz and there you have it: instant success.
Jackson's reputation is also a circumstance of the time frame and his ability and power to rise above both hidden and overt racism. At a time when black artists were practically absent from MTV, Jackson and Epic Records strong-armed the television behemoth - the place where the majority of record buyers were being exposed to new music - to air the striking video for "Billie Jean."
Jackson's dance moves seem basic now, but 25 years ago, few had seen anything like them. And "Billie Jean" was followed by "Beat It," with a more coherent storyline, a signature jacket look for Jackson and one of those videos you couldn't take you eyes off even if you weren't a huge fan of the performer or song.
This was revolutionary stuff.
Then came the mini-movie of "Thriller." It was so unprecedented, you couldn't help but be taken away by the enormity of the effort. His record label was satisfied with the album's success and declined to fund another video, so Jackson went into partnership with MTV, and their promotional arm - at full strength with deep reach to the youth market - essentially sold a few million more copies of the album.
(Interestingly enough, it was Jackson's death that prompted MTV - long since no longer a network that played music videos - to return to wall-to-wall video broadcast, all Michael Jackson clips.)
The "Thriller" video is where it's exciting to leave Jackson: at his creative and commercial peak, truly reigning the music world as the King of Pop.
Because by the time "Bad" came out in 1987, Jackson was suffering some backlash.
The detail that struck me deepest at the time was the report in a Rolling Stone story advancing the album that Jackson had a Post-It note on his bathroom mirror indicating a goal for the album. Keeping in mind the 40 million album sales for "Thriller," Jackson's new goal seemed outrageous.
The note said: "100 million."
Jackson seemed to be more interested in sales numbers than in making any kind of growing artistic statement, which was borne out by the album.
You might make room for the quality of "Man in the Mirror" or "Smooth Criminal," but from the mini-movie that accompanied the title track to the pale Van Halen-wannabe guitar solo by Steve Stevens on "Dirty Diana," Jackson had come up with a pale and disappointing duplication of his most successful album.
And then the REALLY weird stuff starting happening.
As a commenter on my blog said last week, "He's another one of those artists that you have to ignore the artist and look at the art."
The life was certainly confusing. The freak show surrounding Jackson's personal life is just beginning, and one can't help but feel it's going to make the details about Elvis Presley's private life and final days look like Jimmy Stewart or Tom Hanks or Mother Teresa by comparison.
But there was that stretch, ever so brief, when Jackson's artistic, financial and revolutionary works and means were at their zenith.
And that's why his death was all you heard about last weekend.
Michael Jackson did many remarkable things as an entertainer, and his legacy will continue to be a topic of conversation long after everyone reading this is dust.
What's most fascinating, however, is that for the most part, Jackson ceased to be anything more than an artistic afterthought long ago.
Jackson did his share of chart domination, but it was largely based on a handful of releases: "Off the Wall" (1979), "Thriller" (1983), "Bad" (1987), "Dangerous" (1991) and "Invincible" (2001).
You might be more charitable toward the "Blood on the Dance Floor" or "HIStory" collections, but nevertheless, the majority of good feelings about Jackson come via those first two albums. (And maybe "Bad," again depending on your sense of charity.)
Jackson is essentially music's version of baseball Hall of Famer Sandy Koufax. Koufax's Hall entry was based off six amazing seasons, during three of which he was not only the greatest active pitcher but was discussed in the same breath as baseball immortals.
In a time when baseball gave out just one Cy Young Award per year for excellent pitching, Koufax won unanimously three times.
In music terms, that's kind of comparable to Jackson's boatload of eight Grammys at the time of "Thriller." And from winning those, he went on to the recording session for "We Are the World."
That's a pretty decent winning streak.
Koufax was the youngest player inducted to Baseball's Hall of Fame when he was elected in 1972, just after he turned 36. And Jackson certainly sewed up his Rock and Roll Hall of Fame credentials with "Thriller," either the best- or second-best-selling album ever (depending on whether you're arguing worldwide or United States and on the current state of its competition with "The Eagles' Greatest Hits" album).
Jackson was a fresh talent with a fresh sound on "Off the Wall," to the point that some people (myself included) hearing the album for the first time doubted whether this was the same little Michael Jackson who'd thrilled us with bubblegum hits like "ABC" and "I'll Be There."
With "Thriller," Jackson expanded and perfected the formula. Some soul, some funk, some ballads, an unexpected superstar or two helping along the cause, a little jazz and there you have it: instant success.
Jackson's reputation is also a circumstance of the time frame and his ability and power to rise above both hidden and overt racism. At a time when black artists were practically absent from MTV, Jackson and Epic Records strong-armed the television behemoth - the place where the majority of record buyers were being exposed to new music - to air the striking video for "Billie Jean."
Jackson's dance moves seem basic now, but 25 years ago, few had seen anything like them. And "Billie Jean" was followed by "Beat It," with a more coherent storyline, a signature jacket look for Jackson and one of those videos you couldn't take you eyes off even if you weren't a huge fan of the performer or song.
This was revolutionary stuff.
Then came the mini-movie of "Thriller." It was so unprecedented, you couldn't help but be taken away by the enormity of the effort. His record label was satisfied with the album's success and declined to fund another video, so Jackson went into partnership with MTV, and their promotional arm - at full strength with deep reach to the youth market - essentially sold a few million more copies of the album.
(Interestingly enough, it was Jackson's death that prompted MTV - long since no longer a network that played music videos - to return to wall-to-wall video broadcast, all Michael Jackson clips.)
The "Thriller" video is where it's exciting to leave Jackson: at his creative and commercial peak, truly reigning the music world as the King of Pop.
Because by the time "Bad" came out in 1987, Jackson was suffering some backlash.
The detail that struck me deepest at the time was the report in a Rolling Stone story advancing the album that Jackson had a Post-It note on his bathroom mirror indicating a goal for the album. Keeping in mind the 40 million album sales for "Thriller," Jackson's new goal seemed outrageous.
The note said: "100 million."
Jackson seemed to be more interested in sales numbers than in making any kind of growing artistic statement, which was borne out by the album.
You might make room for the quality of "Man in the Mirror" or "Smooth Criminal," but from the mini-movie that accompanied the title track to the pale Van Halen-wannabe guitar solo by Steve Stevens on "Dirty Diana," Jackson had come up with a pale and disappointing duplication of his most successful album.
And then the REALLY weird stuff starting happening.
As a commenter on my blog said last week, "He's another one of those artists that you have to ignore the artist and look at the art."
The life was certainly confusing. The freak show surrounding Jackson's personal life is just beginning, and one can't help but feel it's going to make the details about Elvis Presley's private life and final days look like Jimmy Stewart or Tom Hanks or Mother Teresa by comparison.
But there was that stretch, ever so brief, when Jackson's artistic, financial and revolutionary works and means were at their zenith.
And that's why his death was all you heard about last weekend.
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