Remembering Michael Jackson

At nineteen years old, I seem an unlikely fan of Michael Jackson. The peak of his professional fame came years before I was even born. His life throughout my generation has been marked by eccentricity and controversy. But somehow, amidst all the scandals and controversy, I first came into contact with Michael Jackson through his mega-hit "Thriller," and from that moment, I was hooked.

An artistic skater for much of my childhood, Michael's soaring melodies and intricate musicality struck a chord with me. It was impossible to not have a smile on my face every time I heard any of his expansive hits. That's when I discovered the world of dance and choreography, past my already existing knowledge of artistic skating. I went on eBay, found a VHS copy of the original "Thriller" release, and had it shipped to my home. His movement was amazing, his sense of artistry unparalleled in the world of mainstream music. Here was a man with no formal training whatsoever who somehow seemed to master the art of music, aesthetically, internally, and professionally. There was nothing he couldn't do. Whether it be the pure joy of his 70's disco hit "Don't Stop 'Til You Get Enough" or the deep-funk paranoia of "Billie Jean," Jackson captured the soul and imagination in a way an often cynical person such as myself rarely experienced.

While watching "Thriller" in its long form with my sister, I looked at her and said we should learn it. She at first laughed and wondered aloud if I was being serious. I assured her I was and told her to stand up. From that moment forward I decided that I was going to master his choreography. I had missed the tight choreography and self-expression of my skating years, and this was, to me, a new form of self-expression. It was a part of myself I'd forgotten a little bit. After realizing I had a slight knack for picking up choreography even without wheels, I moved onto his more difficult pieces, sometimes little-known ones. (How many people have ever heard of, much less seen, "2 Bad"?)

I came to realize relatively quickly that Michael's artistry did not begin and end where the world pegged him, and the same could be said for his deep humanity. This was a simultaneously loving and tortured soul. The world watched in awe as he moonwalked, but turned away as he cried for help ("Is It Scary?", "Tabloid Junkie," "Privacy," etc). His expressions of love and caring were dismissed for his eccentricity, and at worst vilified as criminal. It was painful to watch as this, for lack of a better word, child was beaten by the media and dragged through embarrassing trials for crimes it seemed obvious he didn't commit. I remember sitting glued to the television at my grandmother's house as we listened live to the verdict being read, cheering with each: "We find the defendant... not guilty."

Moving past the trial, I hoped the world would once again focus on the loving soul who wanted nothing more than to be loved in return. As I awaited his upcoming album, I continued exploring his often-overlooked expansive catalogue. HIStory provided a rich set of often dark new material, industrial funk as its often termed. Jackson's 90's work has been compared to that of Trent Reznor, with dark stories set to deliriously abrasive dance melodies. From his angry duet with Janet ("Scream") to tracks that, if examined closely, seemed to meld pure industrial modernity with touches of rock and even African spirituals ("2 Bad," "They Don't Care About Us"), Jackson was projecting unrestrained creative genius. One has to assume, knowing Jackson, that these touches were virtually never accidental.

Sadly, the world just didn't seem to want to understand Michael. And one could argue Michael was coming to a point where he no longer really cared to be understood. He had his children, his fans, and his close friends, and he seemed to be making peace with his existence to an extent. In an interview with BeliefNet, Michael said:

"Having children allows me to enter this magical and holy world every moment of every day. I see God through my children. I speak to God through my children. I am humbled for the blessings He has given me....There have been times in my life when I, like everyone, has had to wonder about God's existence. When Prince smiles, when Paris giggles, I have no doubts. Children are God's gift to us. No--they are more than that--they are the very form of God's energy and creativity and love. He is to be found in their innocence, experienced in their playfulness... We all have the ability to make every day the precious day that is the Sabbath... We do this by giving over our entire heart and mind to the little people we call son and daughter. The time we spend with them is the Sabbath. The place we spend it is called Paradise. "

After this interview, Michael went on to speak with Ebony, echoing similar sentiments of an individual who may have grown up, even if it was just a little. Michael was now a father, and this transcended all of the media circus that surrounded him. However, Jackson's creative juices were flowing and his cash was running out...

"He got flat baby
Kick in the back baby
A heart attack baby
I need your body...
Relax
This won't hurt you
Before I put it in
Close your eyes and count to ten
Don't cry
I won't convert you
There's no need to dismay
Close your eyes and drift away...
Morphine!
Do it!...
Morphine!" - "Morphine" by Michael Jackson

Thus began Michael Jackson's battle with medication. He voluntarily entered rehabilitation in the mid-90's, but unfortunately succumbed once again. It was easy to do, surrounded by enablers and a false sense of invincibility. In the end, whether or not by pure direct effect, it was the medication that took Jackson's life.
I remember the second I first heard Michael had passed. I was watching the computer screen in which it was reported Jackson was at the hospital, then I received a text proclaiming him dead. I refused to believe it until verified, but I feared the worst. Then the reports began to trickle in.

I couldn't believe it. I knew Jackson wouldn't live to be old, but the last thing I expected was for him to suddenly pass at 50. I felt as though a huge piece of my youth, my formation, even my inspiration was snatched from me in an instant. It was never to be replaced. The world lost a friend on the 25th of June, 2009. The message and soul of Michael Jackson had such a profound impact on all those who had the opportunity to experience it. He wasn't merely a pop icon, he was a deeply human individual who used the medium of music to share a unique gift with the world. While many criticized Jackson, those who knew him loved him. Michael embodied love and innocence, a caring and altruistic soul. An artist is only really as good as her/his humanity, and Michael proved that. The world is mourning Michael now, and like with Elvis, the world will probably always mourn his loss. I know I will.

But in the end, Michael always said that he wanted his music to represent his immortality, that even after his death, the art would live on. Without a doubt, that wish will be fulfilled. The joy and magic of Michael Jackson is here to stay forever, and possibly even more than Elvis, it is timeless. True individuality transcends a generation, and love lasts forever. Michael's music was the epitome of both.

And for that, Michael, it is with great sincerity that I thank you. Future generations will grow to love you again and again through your legacy, and I always will. With tears that last temporarily but joy that never ends: Goodbye, my friend.

"Dancin' in moonlight
I know you are free
'Cause I can see your star
Shinin' down on me"

-"Together Again" by Janet Jackson