Michael Jackson Died June 25th. I just got it.
Michael Jackson died 2 weeks ago, and I suspect I’m the only person in the universe, IN THE UNIVERSE, who had no emotional reaction whatsoever. No urge to turn on the TV or radio, no urge to tweet about it Google it or comment or reflect or say something snarky or anything else. Really, I just didn’t think or feel anything.
Until now.
I woke up at 5:47am (rather early for me) with I’ll Be There in my head. And suddenly, it hits me, hard. I’ll Be There is one of those songs that gets to me every goddamn time I hear it. I lose it. I don’t know if it’ the melody or the sentiment of the lyrics or the bit when Jermaine chimes in on the chorus (God, now there’s a voice). But I know it’s one of the first songs I ever heard on the radio. Maybe that’s it.
Radio, back in the day. AM radio. Pop music. When pop music was songs like I’ll Be There and Al Green’s Let’s Stay Together and the Raspberries Go All The Way (man, why couldn’t I have lost my virginity to that one?), and any song on any soundtrack to any Quentin Tarentino film. But I digress. Back to Michael…
I realized: the Michael that sang I’ll Be There, and the Michael who brought us the album Off The Wall (superior to Thriller, in my opinion); that Michael died long ago. Replaced by someone who — for reasons I’ll never understand — had such a hard time looking at the Man In The Mirror that he actually erased him, replacing him with someone who bore little resemblance to other human beings. I’m grateful I’ll never understand what it must be like, to abhor where you came from or something deep inside you so much you can no longer face it. But I sympathize. My demons got nothing on Michael’s.
So now I can’t get I’ll Be There out of my head. And finally, my heart breaks for Michael Jackson. I wish I could thank him for giving me the first recording, the first voice, that talked about love and made me get it, feel it, pine for it: what love could be.
RIP, Michael. In your honor, I will now dance. http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=kM3hgLRq8_0
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Ron. Lavalette says:
I'm still having no
I'm still having no emotional response. In fact, I want to be one of those snide folks who makes jokes about his style, his complexion, his crotch grabbing dances, etc. I want to be one of those cynics who harps on his strange sexual predilections, and berates those who mourn him for their excess.
But I remember how I felt when John Lennon was killed & I keep my mouth shut.
Totally different people, different deaths, but still...The Buddha inclines me toward compassion for all sentient beings, so I keep my mouth shut and try to remember that Mr Jackson, as we all do, suffered too.
Shubha Rao says:
How about this?
Until the 25th of June 2009, in my 27 years of life that was shared between India, Europe and the US, all I knew about Michael Jackson was that he is this superb dancer, who changes his sex at his will and always in the court for some or the other thing. He was just 'another' celebrity for me.
But the media coverage that went into Michael Jackson's death prompted me to know more about him. While most that was available on the news dailies and magazines seemed junk, his music and performances gave me the real taste of Michael Jackson. I have connected to his dead soul in my own way now and have recognized the tremendous artist and the beautiful person he was behind all the tabloid. I am perhaps the biggest posthumous fan of Michael Jackson now. Don't even ask me how unfortunate I find myself that I never discovered him when he was alive though I was alive through half of his life.