I know you’ve heard it all. It’s the only thing on TV this weekend and it will probably continue to be the lead story for another week. I’ve been meaning to put down my thoughts on this event since I first heard the news of Jackson’s death on Thursday afternoon. To read my take, check below the fold.
I got Thriller for my otherwise crappy 13th birthday. It was a vinyl LP and I may have worn the damn thing out. I knew all of the words to all of the songs and thought that there was only one clunker in the whole album, Thriller. It seemed to not make any sense to me as I listened to the lyrics. But when the video was released, it all became clear. I clearly remember the showing of Thriller at the Christiana Skating Rink each session. The music stopped. We all sat down in the middle of the rink and watched as the video screens came down on the east side of the rink. 500 kids sat and watched that video (the long version) each session.
I lived off of that album for years. There were other albums, but that one was accorded special privileges in my life.
When Bad came out, I bought it the day it came out at Castle Mall (a record store that doesn’t exist in a mall that doesn’t exist). I had heard the love song that was released first, Liberian Girl and bought the single. It was a great tease, and the month or so between the release of the single and the album was almost too much. Soon, it was the first CD that I bought. For more than a decade, the first thing I did after buying a new CD player was to play Bad on it.
As the years have gone by, it has been a bit of a secret pleasure. It has been hard to be a Michael Jackson fan, as it was hard to be an Elvis fan after he became a parody of himself. And like J.D. Salinger, it is hard to be a fan of a recluse for very long.
But the past few days have been great. Yes, we lost Michael, but through that, it has become apparent that he never lost his fans. The people that are hating on him now, hated on him in 1984. The rest of us only felt safe playing his music loudly alone, and at highway speeds.
On Thursday night, as I drove to Drinking Liberally, I blasted my Michael Jackson playlist on the iPod. It was becoming apparent that Michael had died. I really couldn’t bear to hear the confirmation come over the radio. As I pulled up to a light in Newark, a couple of teenagers were stopped next to me and they could hear me jamming through my closed windows. The guy laughed and feigned jamming along with the song (Smooth Criminal). I ignored him. I should have ignored many people for the past decade. Michael was a true master at his artform.
Good Bye, Michael.