R.I.P. Michael Jackson
Late as usual, but I still want to make some comment on the passing of one of the idols of my youth: the late, great Michael Jackson.
My parents are fans, so I have been hearing his music for as long as I can remember. 'Thriller' was topping the charts when I was born, and I remember dancing to his music as a little girl and singing along very loudly. The first album I bought for myself was 'History', and it has remained cherished and unscratched to this day.
When I was in my first year of high school, it was the height of the Backstreet Boys era, so I naturally refused to like them. By this time, Michael Jackson was already too old and too, let's face it, freakish-looking, to be a suitable hero for me. For a time I transferred my affections to his very attractive but far less talented nephews, who formed the short-lived pop group 3T. Hey, I was thirteen, what can I say.
But I never stopped loving Michael, and often sat doing my homework listening to my favourite songs of his, 'Thriller' and 'Black Or White' (once I grew tired of the nasal whining of his goodlooking younger blood relatives, that is).
I feel extremely privileged to have seen him perform live, when I went to see the History Tour with my mother as a teenager. Our seats were all the way at the top of the Amsterdam ArenA, the very highest, and if it hadn't been for the huge screens on either side of the stage and my trusty binoculars, I would only have been able to see a two-inch man in a tinfoil suit zipping about the stage. It was an amazing experience nonetheless, and I remember vividly how much in awe I was.
I don't want to know if everything that he was accused and suspected of was true. I don't really care, either. The man was a genius, and the fact that he was a very disturbed individual as well doesn't make that fact untrue. No one will ever dance like that man could dance, or grow into such a music legend the way he did in his short and pain-filled life.
The one thing that struck me most when watching the footage on television was a short film that a young man sent in to one news program. It was made on his mobile phone while he attended an impromptu wake at the hospital where Jackson died. It showed a crowd of fans, mostly young people, some of whom were crying, others singing and dancing together. And they were white, black, Asian, Indian, and everything in between. They held each other's hands while they sang Michael Jackson's timeless classics, and laughed together as they tried, unsuccesfully, to imitate his dance moves.
Not one legendary artist other than Michael Jackson can pride himself on having such a diverse and racially balanced fan base. Not Sinatra, or the Beatles, or Elvis. Michael Jackson has, in his way, managed to bring people just that bit closer together, as he has always said he wanted. I hope that wherever he is now, that thought will give him peace.
My parents are fans, so I have been hearing his music for as long as I can remember. 'Thriller' was topping the charts when I was born, and I remember dancing to his music as a little girl and singing along very loudly. The first album I bought for myself was 'History', and it has remained cherished and unscratched to this day.
When I was in my first year of high school, it was the height of the Backstreet Boys era, so I naturally refused to like them. By this time, Michael Jackson was already too old and too, let's face it, freakish-looking, to be a suitable hero for me. For a time I transferred my affections to his very attractive but far less talented nephews, who formed the short-lived pop group 3T. Hey, I was thirteen, what can I say.
But I never stopped loving Michael, and often sat doing my homework listening to my favourite songs of his, 'Thriller' and 'Black Or White' (once I grew tired of the nasal whining of his goodlooking younger blood relatives, that is).
I feel extremely privileged to have seen him perform live, when I went to see the History Tour with my mother as a teenager. Our seats were all the way at the top of the Amsterdam ArenA, the very highest, and if it hadn't been for the huge screens on either side of the stage and my trusty binoculars, I would only have been able to see a two-inch man in a tinfoil suit zipping about the stage. It was an amazing experience nonetheless, and I remember vividly how much in awe I was.
I don't want to know if everything that he was accused and suspected of was true. I don't really care, either. The man was a genius, and the fact that he was a very disturbed individual as well doesn't make that fact untrue. No one will ever dance like that man could dance, or grow into such a music legend the way he did in his short and pain-filled life.
The one thing that struck me most when watching the footage on television was a short film that a young man sent in to one news program. It was made on his mobile phone while he attended an impromptu wake at the hospital where Jackson died. It showed a crowd of fans, mostly young people, some of whom were crying, others singing and dancing together. And they were white, black, Asian, Indian, and everything in between. They held each other's hands while they sang Michael Jackson's timeless classics, and laughed together as they tried, unsuccesfully, to imitate his dance moves.
Not one legendary artist other than Michael Jackson can pride himself on having such a diverse and racially balanced fan base. Not Sinatra, or the Beatles, or Elvis. Michael Jackson has, in his way, managed to bring people just that bit closer together, as he has always said he wanted. I hope that wherever he is now, that thought will give him peace.