I certainly hope pop legend Michael Jackson can rest in peace, because he didn’t seem to have a lot of peace here on this earth.
When I reminisce about MJ, it’s not the MJ in the “It’s OK to sleep with little boys” Martin Bashir interview that convinced me MJ was diddling little boys.
My Michael had a nose. And a stunning voice, and a falsetto that would give you chills. And a body that could do moves I couldn’t replicate, no matter how hard I tried.
I’m not completely comfortable with how I bifurcate MJ – pre-perv, post-perv, but I am somehow unable to cut off what he meant to me, as a teenager, to throw all that away.
My parents didn’t allow much (any?) pop music in the house, but I can remember going to a neighbor’s house where we’d dance in the bonus room to MJ’s latest. We’d do the gigolo (if you were really bad with the gigolo, you’d slap your knee. I slapped the heck out of mine). I loved MJ’s P.Y.T., because of course, I was/am one!
His picture, from the Human Nature album, was taped to the striped wallpaper of my bedroom wall as a teenager until the edges had curled and the sun had faded it.
I grew up with MTV and remember well how the station REFUSED to play videos of black artists. (Why else would a whole bunch of 35-year-old black adults know all the words to 1980s Duran Duran songs? Because that’s all MTV played!) So seeing MJ on MTV was a huge – major – gianormous deal. (For more info on this, see the wiki entry on Why BET Was Needed)
I grew up listening to MJ and despite all his problems (and yes, I think he had REAL problems), I hope he finds whatever he was clearly searching for on the other side.