State of Shock
An interesting thing has happened since Michael Jackson's death last Thursday: suddenly, it's not uncool to have been a Michael Jackson fan. It's been at least 20 years since it was cool to be a Michael Jackson fan, and we all know what happened in those intervening years: he did weird, eccentric, criminal, irresponsible, unexplainable things. These are the things that toned down and eventually cooled my adolescent fandom, a thing so large and all-encompassing in its heyday that if you knew me between the ages of 8 and 15, it was assured that you knew me as a Michael Jackson fan.
So what happened? I can only speak for myself, but when I was in the throws of Michael Jackson fever, everything he did or had ever done was nothing short of spectacular. Listening to that scratchy dub of "Thriller" over and over, sequestering myself in our dark basement to watch Michael Jackson marathons on MTV, videotaping every appearance he made on television, clipping every photo of him that appeared in the newspaper (yes, even that one of him in the hyperbaric chamber), thrilling at the chance to see him on tour at the Rosemont Horizon outside of Chicago, covering every square inch of my childhood bedroom with his image, these were the traits of my adolescent idolatry.
But Michael Jackson also led me to the Jackson Five, to Diana Ross, to James Brown, and to Marvin Gaye. He led me to the history of Motown, to vinyl, to concerts, to the drums. I still can't pass up a Jackson Five song on the radio, or "Wanna Be Startin' Something" on a wedding dance floor, or a clip of "Billie Jean" on TV, and, for the life of me, I will never be able to forget the encyclopedic knowledge of this man and his music that I've come to possess.
His death came as a shock; the outpouring of condolences from friends and family reminds me of who I was to them; the media coverage I find both fascinating and repulsive. It may be overkill, but it may also be something akin to a national mourning for someone whose image, actions and voice have been stuck in the inner recesses of our minds for a long time.
So what happened? I can only speak for myself, but when I was in the throws of Michael Jackson fever, everything he did or had ever done was nothing short of spectacular. Listening to that scratchy dub of "Thriller" over and over, sequestering myself in our dark basement to watch Michael Jackson marathons on MTV, videotaping every appearance he made on television, clipping every photo of him that appeared in the newspaper (yes, even that one of him in the hyperbaric chamber), thrilling at the chance to see him on tour at the Rosemont Horizon outside of Chicago, covering every square inch of my childhood bedroom with his image, these were the traits of my adolescent idolatry.
But Michael Jackson also led me to the Jackson Five, to Diana Ross, to James Brown, and to Marvin Gaye. He led me to the history of Motown, to vinyl, to concerts, to the drums. I still can't pass up a Jackson Five song on the radio, or "Wanna Be Startin' Something" on a wedding dance floor, or a clip of "Billie Jean" on TV, and, for the life of me, I will never be able to forget the encyclopedic knowledge of this man and his music that I've come to possess.
His death came as a shock; the outpouring of condolences from friends and family reminds me of who I was to them; the media coverage I find both fascinating and repulsive. It may be overkill, but it may also be something akin to a national mourning for someone whose image, actions and voice have been stuck in the inner recesses of our minds for a long time.
Labels: esjmusicology
posted by SJB at 9:15 PM
2 Comments:
Magnificent.
I too found the media coverage repulsive, in a fascinating way. Did I tell you my Michael Jackson theory? I believe his song "Smooth Criminal" was inspired by his own life and perversions. Deep down, he knew that he himself was a smooth criminal, that what he was doing to young boys was wrong, and so he had to write a song about it.
More blog entries, please! It's been many months....
-Felix
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