I Want You Back
Today, Michael Jackson's family, friends and fans buried The King of Pop--or memorialized him, anyway. As the ABC anchors annoyingly whispered in hushed tones: "We're not exactly sure where the body is going at this moment." Novel idea there, you vultures. Maybe one moment in all this should be left to the family alone.
Anyway, I was definitely sad the day they reported MJ's death, but now, a week later, I seem to have stumbled into full-blown mourning--and I'm not exactly sure why.
His records were a constant fixture in my family's home back when it was whole, back before the fracturing created by divorce and infidelity. My mother, my sister and I would put on "Bad" and dance all around the living room, singing into non-existent microphones and trying in vain to duplicate the octaves he reached with his squeals--pure exultation in the throes of performance. We'd all sing along to "I Want You Back" and "ABC" in the car, the radio tuned to Oldies 97.3--KBSG!
I was in 6th or 7th grade when "You Are Not Alone" came out, and I've never hit the repeat button on a CD player that many times in my life. While nobody else understood the (bordering on obsessive) love I had for my crush at the time, Michael did, and even though it's not really that kind of song, I used to belt it out and pretend I was singing it right to Jason. And even though lots of people hated that video with Lisa Marie, it was the first time I really looked at two bodies being together as a beautiful thing. I remember thinking, "wow, this is weird--here's Michael with short straight hair, a skinny nose and that pale skin--but I still think he's kind of attractive!"
When my ex-boyfriend Marc broke up with me between junior and senior year, MJ was there for that too. I had the Special Edition CD of "Bad" (which, sadly, is somewhere in Massachusetts at the moment), which has three extra tracks on it that weren't on the originally released record. I screamed the lyrics to "Leave Me Alone" over and over and over again until I shouted Marc all the way out of my system. It's funny, because I was actually the one who still wanted the relationship to continue, but I needed all of those memories to leave me the fuck alone and thus the song became appropriate.
Every dance, wedding or party I have ever been to has been marked by the hope that they'd play one of Michael's songs. I love trying to do his stark way of dancing--that ultimate control he had over his body and the sharp moves that nobody could ever completely imitate.
I watched a good portion of the funeral today, and as political leaders, performers, family members and even basketball stars came to the podium, I thought about how much of an impact that man has had on the world. To those of you out there who scream about his child molestation charges, financial problems, plastic surgeries, strangely-conceived children and bizarre behavior, you have said your piece. You have been heard and your opinions noted. Now be quiet, please, and let those of us who loved him for his music close our eyes as we feel the beats he put forth thump inside of us once again--and not for the last time.
I think I'm having so much trouble with this because messed up as he became, he knew exactly what he loved and he did it with undeniable passion. My own life is marked by such fuzziness at the moment--a grey cloud of haze surrounding what my vocation or true calling is. With Michael Jackson, you knew precisely what he was born to do. He went out there and did it 100%. And although his music will live on as long as there are ways to play it, I feel a little emptier knowing that his voice and his legs will never again work in tandem to bring his music to life.
So farewell to you, Michael. Thank you for giving me so many songs that have ended up on the soundtrack of my life. I will miss you.
Anyway, I was definitely sad the day they reported MJ's death, but now, a week later, I seem to have stumbled into full-blown mourning--and I'm not exactly sure why.
His records were a constant fixture in my family's home back when it was whole, back before the fracturing created by divorce and infidelity. My mother, my sister and I would put on "Bad" and dance all around the living room, singing into non-existent microphones and trying in vain to duplicate the octaves he reached with his squeals--pure exultation in the throes of performance. We'd all sing along to "I Want You Back" and "ABC" in the car, the radio tuned to Oldies 97.3--KBSG!
I was in 6th or 7th grade when "You Are Not Alone" came out, and I've never hit the repeat button on a CD player that many times in my life. While nobody else understood the (bordering on obsessive) love I had for my crush at the time, Michael did, and even though it's not really that kind of song, I used to belt it out and pretend I was singing it right to Jason. And even though lots of people hated that video with Lisa Marie, it was the first time I really looked at two bodies being together as a beautiful thing. I remember thinking, "wow, this is weird--here's Michael with short straight hair, a skinny nose and that pale skin--but I still think he's kind of attractive!"
When my ex-boyfriend Marc broke up with me between junior and senior year, MJ was there for that too. I had the Special Edition CD of "Bad" (which, sadly, is somewhere in Massachusetts at the moment), which has three extra tracks on it that weren't on the originally released record. I screamed the lyrics to "Leave Me Alone" over and over and over again until I shouted Marc all the way out of my system. It's funny, because I was actually the one who still wanted the relationship to continue, but I needed all of those memories to leave me the fuck alone and thus the song became appropriate.
Every dance, wedding or party I have ever been to has been marked by the hope that they'd play one of Michael's songs. I love trying to do his stark way of dancing--that ultimate control he had over his body and the sharp moves that nobody could ever completely imitate.
I watched a good portion of the funeral today, and as political leaders, performers, family members and even basketball stars came to the podium, I thought about how much of an impact that man has had on the world. To those of you out there who scream about his child molestation charges, financial problems, plastic surgeries, strangely-conceived children and bizarre behavior, you have said your piece. You have been heard and your opinions noted. Now be quiet, please, and let those of us who loved him for his music close our eyes as we feel the beats he put forth thump inside of us once again--and not for the last time.
I think I'm having so much trouble with this because messed up as he became, he knew exactly what he loved and he did it with undeniable passion. My own life is marked by such fuzziness at the moment--a grey cloud of haze surrounding what my vocation or true calling is. With Michael Jackson, you knew precisely what he was born to do. He went out there and did it 100%. And although his music will live on as long as there are ways to play it, I feel a little emptier knowing that his voice and his legs will never again work in tandem to bring his music to life.
So farewell to you, Michael. Thank you for giving me so many songs that have ended up on the soundtrack of my life. I will miss you.