I Miss You, Old Friend
No, I never knew him. I never even got to see him perform in person. But it feels like an old friend of mine has died.
Michael Jackson was part of the soundtrack of my childhood and my adolescence. He was just always there. When I was 11, I got a VHS copy of Moonwalker for my birthday. You couldn’t tell me anything. I had just gotten a copy of the coolest movie ever starring the coolest person on Earth.
Please understand: I’m certainly not suggesting that the man should be canonized. We all know he had serious emotional and mental issues. But Tom Joyner said it best: he was that family member that we just couldn’t abandon, no matter how crazy things got. I’m not ashamed to admit that I cried when I saw his body being loaded onto that helicopter. It felt like the day when my grandmother (another constant presence in my childhood and adolescence) suddenly died.
Try to remember the late ‘80s to the early ‘90s. Bad and Dangerous. Solo tours and music video premieres on prime-time tv. Oh, the videos! High-concept glossy things with celebrity guest stars. Programming schedules were rearranged just to show a four-minute film! I was in fangirl heaven.
In 1993, Michael was on a roll. He was connecting to people. There was the famous interview with Oprah, an appearance on the Grammys, and this amazing Super Bowl half-time show.
And we all know what happened next.
His demons had been unleashed and could not be ignored. No one wanted to believe that our cherished family-friendly icon was a monster in disguise. But every salacious detail that was released was another blow to his credibility. Nothing was ever conclusively proven, but it was too late. The damage had been done.
It wasn’t just his personal life that began to spiral out of control. His music began to suffer as well. It was like his music was slowly ossifying. With each release, there were more and more tracks that sounded like outtakes from Dangerous. He had stopped growing as an artist.
As bad as things got, I never really stopped caring. I felt compelled to watch the ever-growing train wreck. Now I realize that there was some small part of me that hoped he would get it together and become brilliant again.
I find myself wondering what could have been. What if he’d gotten therapy to deal with the issues from his rotten childhood? Would that have prevented the accusations of pedophilia? What about the projects that were never completed? What were Madonna’s lyrics for “In The Closet”?
Why wasn’t Freddie Mercury on the completed version of “State of Shock”?
When I watch these clips, it reminds me of all the songs we’ll never hear, the videos that we’ll never see, the concerts that will never happen. People are buying his music in droves because we’re trying to hold onto whatever we can that reminds us of the good times. Much like hoarding every scrap of a loved one’s belongings after they die.
Goodbye, old friend. I hope you’ve found the peace that you didn’t have in life.
Michael Jackson was part of the soundtrack of my childhood and my adolescence. He was just always there. When I was 11, I got a VHS copy of Moonwalker for my birthday. You couldn’t tell me anything. I had just gotten a copy of the coolest movie ever starring the coolest person on Earth.
Please understand: I’m certainly not suggesting that the man should be canonized. We all know he had serious emotional and mental issues. But Tom Joyner said it best: he was that family member that we just couldn’t abandon, no matter how crazy things got. I’m not ashamed to admit that I cried when I saw his body being loaded onto that helicopter. It felt like the day when my grandmother (another constant presence in my childhood and adolescence) suddenly died.
Try to remember the late ‘80s to the early ‘90s. Bad and Dangerous. Solo tours and music video premieres on prime-time tv. Oh, the videos! High-concept glossy things with celebrity guest stars. Programming schedules were rearranged just to show a four-minute film! I was in fangirl heaven.
In 1993, Michael was on a roll. He was connecting to people. There was the famous interview with Oprah, an appearance on the Grammys, and this amazing Super Bowl half-time show.
Click to viewAnd we all know what happened next.
His demons had been unleashed and could not be ignored. No one wanted to believe that our cherished family-friendly icon was a monster in disguise. But every salacious detail that was released was another blow to his credibility. Nothing was ever conclusively proven, but it was too late. The damage had been done.
It wasn’t just his personal life that began to spiral out of control. His music began to suffer as well. It was like his music was slowly ossifying. With each release, there were more and more tracks that sounded like outtakes from Dangerous. He had stopped growing as an artist.
As bad as things got, I never really stopped caring. I felt compelled to watch the ever-growing train wreck. Now I realize that there was some small part of me that hoped he would get it together and become brilliant again.
I find myself wondering what could have been. What if he’d gotten therapy to deal with the issues from his rotten childhood? Would that have prevented the accusations of pedophilia? What about the projects that were never completed? What were Madonna’s lyrics for “In The Closet”?
Why wasn’t Freddie Mercury on the completed version of “State of Shock”?
When I watch these clips, it reminds me of all the songs we’ll never hear, the videos that we’ll never see, the concerts that will never happen. People are buying his music in droves because we’re trying to hold onto whatever we can that reminds us of the good times. Much like hoarding every scrap of a loved one’s belongings after they die.
Goodbye, old friend. I hope you’ve found the peace that you didn’t have in life.