Michael Jackson's career really was a 'Thriller'
Monday, I posted a video on Facebook. It was of Michael Jackson singing "Billie Jean" in 1983 and introducing the world to the "moonwalk." It is a singular and brilliant performance.
Almost immediately, one of my friends made a snarky comment about Jackson, something about him liking kids. It made me mad.
Years ago, when Jackson was in the thick of his child molestation trial, I wrote a column about how weird he had become, how he looked almost inhuman and acted in a manner that could only be described as bizarre. Everything in that column was true, but as I look back on the career of the King of Pop, who died of a cardiac arrest June 25, I regret that column. Making fun of Michael Jackson in recent years was the easy way out.
At a lunch with colleagues Friday, the subject of Jackson came up. "People are acting like the President died," said one person. "Well," I said, "in the context of popular music the President has died."
Go back and listen to "ABC" by the Jackson 5. That little boy already had the pipes of a master. He was the youngest among the Jackson brothers and yet the most charismatic. And no one -- but no one -- could dance like the grown up Michael Jackson.
When I was a kid, Michael Jackson was a demigod. I had a vinyl version of the jacket he wore in the "Beat It" video. I had sparkly socks and a sequined glove. So did just about everyone I knew. That's what you did.
I listened to my vinyl copy of "Thriller" until it was so marked up that it was more crackle than Jackson's pop. (Even to this day, the bass line on "Billie Jean" is simply sinister.)
That album, by the way, sold some 28 million copies in the United States, making it the second best-selling album of all time in this country (inexplicably following "Eagles: Their Greatest Hits 1971-1975"). World wide, it is the best selling album of all time. Seven of the record's nine tracks were top 10 hits. Think about that.
With the news of Jackson's death, sales of his albums have shot way up. Rolling Stone reported that "Thriller," "Number Ones" and "The Essential Michael Jackson" sold more than 100,000 copies in the days following his death, with numbers expected to top six figures for sales through June 28.
His position as the King of Pop is fairly solid.
But his reputation, like so many celebrities', is marred. His death was likely due to the abuse of prescription drugs, for one thing. He died with massive debt hanging over his estate, for another. But more to the point is that comment that my friend made after I posted the Jackson video.
Jackson was acquitted of child molestation charges in 2005, but the court of public opinion found him guilty.
Someone told me that Jackson was my generation's Elvis Presley. Both artists' careers changed popular culture, and the arcs of their lives are similar. Both achieved superstardom. Both were crushed by it.
And as the comment by my friend proves, making fun of Michael Jackson had become a kind of sport. But whatever you think of the man, the world has lost a true icon of popular music.
Monday, I posted a video on Facebook. It was of Michael Jackson singing "Billie Jean" in 1983 and introducing the world to the "moonwalk." It is a singular and brilliant performance.
Almost immediately, one of my friends made a snarky comment about Jackson, something about him liking kids. It made me mad.
Years ago, when Jackson was in the thick of his child molestation trial, I wrote a column about how weird he had become, how he looked almost inhuman and acted in a manner that could only be described as bizarre. Everything in that column was true, but as I look back on the career of the King of Pop, who died of a cardiac arrest June 25, I regret that column. Making fun of Michael Jackson in recent years was the easy way out.
At a lunch with colleagues Friday, the subject of Jackson came up. "People are acting like the President died," said one person. "Well," I said, "in the context of popular music the President has died."
Go back and listen to "ABC" by the Jackson 5. That little boy already had the pipes of a master. He was the youngest among the Jackson brothers and yet the most charismatic. And no one -- but no one -- could dance like the grown up Michael Jackson.
When I was a kid, Michael Jackson was a demigod. I had a vinyl version of the jacket he wore in the "Beat It" video. I had sparkly socks and a sequined glove. So did just about everyone I knew. That's what you did.
I listened to my vinyl copy of "Thriller" until it was so marked up that it was more crackle than Jackson's pop. (Even to this day, the bass line on "Billie Jean" is simply sinister.)
That album, by the way, sold some 28 million copies in the United States, making it the second best-selling album of all time in this country (inexplicably following "Eagles: Their Greatest Hits 1971-1975"). World wide, it is the best selling album of all time. Seven of the record's nine tracks were top 10 hits. Think about that.
With the news of Jackson's death, sales of his albums have shot way up. Rolling Stone reported that "Thriller," "Number Ones" and "The Essential Michael Jackson" sold more than 100,000 copies in the days following his death, with numbers expected to top six figures for sales through June 28.
His position as the King of Pop is fairly solid.
But his reputation, like so many celebrities', is marred. His death was likely due to the abuse of prescription drugs, for one thing. He died with massive debt hanging over his estate, for another. But more to the point is that comment that my friend made after I posted the Jackson video.
Jackson was acquitted of child molestation charges in 2005, but the court of public opinion found him guilty.
Someone told me that Jackson was my generation's Elvis Presley. Both artists' careers changed popular culture, and the arcs of their lives are similar. Both achieved superstardom. Both were crushed by it.
And as the comment by my friend proves, making fun of Michael Jackson had become a kind of sport. But whatever you think of the man, the world has lost a true icon of popular music.
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