Tell Them That It’s Human Nature.
Yesterday, as I watched the reports of Michael Jackson’s death flood the television and the internet, I found myself surprised by how irritated I became every time one of those “What a loser! Good riddance to that child abuser!” comments would pop up. I mean, I’m no fan of child abuse. And I guess I’ve always assumed that Michael was guilty on at least some level, even though he was never convicted. (Although, is there any such thing as different ‘levels’ of guilt, when we’re talking about the sexual abuse of a child?)
The point is, guilty as I thought he was, and deplorable as child abuse in any form is, when I first heard of his passing my first thought was NOT ‘good riddance.’
My first thought was of my paternal grandfather, strange as that may sound. See, Thriller was the first album I ever owned. I have no idea who bought it for me, or how I convinced them to do it as I was only four years old and even though I LOVE LOVE LOVED it, that scary voice at the end of the Thriller single basically made me so scared I could have crapped my pants at any moment. What I DO remember is that my grandpa had to drive my obnoxious four year old self to Florida; just the two of us in a car alone all the way from Michigan to Florida, and I made him play my Thriller cassette tape over and over and over again, the entire way there.
That makes one loving (and sublimely patient) grandfather, and one SUPERIOURLY KICK-ASS album.
My second thought was of the time that I was really, really late for a very important function which shall remain unnamed, as the person whose function it was could be reading, because Man in the Mirror came on and I couldn’t stop singing it at the top of my lungs in my car. Five times in a row.
Then I thought about the time I danced with a relative stranger to Human Nature in the drunken blissed-out aftermath of another opening day. The combination of vodka, good music and pheromones made it…an experience. I still smile every time I hear that song. Plus that song is just really awesome.
Oh, and Matt Giraud played it on American Idol, and can I just say: EPIC SWOON. (boys who play piano=NOM NOM NOM) (wait, boys who play any instrument=NOM NOM NOM) (also, tiffany=talent whore)
Ahem.
It was about that time that my Facebook home page started to explode with people expressing their disbelief that Michael was gone, followed quickly by scores of people sharing links to their favorite songs and videos. I sat there watching them appear, one after the other, and every time a new song was mentioned I was like: “Ooooh, yeah. That’s a really good one, too.”
***
Regardless of what may or may not have transpired as Michael grew older, his contribution to music and entertainment really cannot be questioned. Even for people who maybe never even liked a single one of his songs (which, you be crazy!), one must admit that the man was extremely talented, even if as an individual you didn’t find his talent particularly appealing. But I don’t think I’m getting any closer to the heart of the matter, with that argument.
See, all of the people who poured out into the streets of LA and New York last night, and all of the people who poured their feelings out onto their blogs or their facebooks…they weren’t doing that because it’s some tragedy that we’ve lost a great artist. Not really, I don’t think. One can argue that death is always a tragedy, but one can also argue that we all die, and the likely truth is that we were never going to get another ‘I Want You Back’ or ‘Don’t Stop Til You Get Enough’ or ‘Billie Jean’ or even ‘Smooth Criminal’* or ‘We Are The World’ out of Michael. The people who are crying in the streets aren’t REALLY crying because Michael is dead, even if they think they are. I mean, they’ve never met him. Will it really have any impact on their individual lives that he’s gone? Of course not. What they’re really mourning is the loss of a little piece of themselves. The people who went into the streets and into the internets last night and today did so because they, we, have so many memories connected to this music that the news of his death sent us into nostalgic shock.
I strongly believe that music and memory must be nearly as closely related as scent and memory. I remember once, long before I knew the science behind the connection of scent and memory, I was about fourteen years old and I realized I had run out of deodorant so I went searching through the bottoms of all my drawers to see if I could find and old one. And I did. I found the deodorant that I had used when I was at camp the previous summer. It had a distinctly different scent than any I had used since, and when I put it on I actually had to sit down on my bed, the wave of memories from camp hit me that hard. Music can be like that, too.
So, all you people out there who are saying you ‘can’t get past what Michael did, ‘ and saying that his fans are disgusting to ‘forgive a pedophile?’ let me make this clear: I don’t have to ‘get past’ anything. The music was in me long before there was any weirdness or allegations of wrongdoing. And I don’t have to forgive, to mourn. It’s not the same thing. If I’m of the school who suspects he was guilty, then I can mourn the fact that such a clearly talented person went so far off the rails. Or, if I’m of the school who thinks he’s always been innocent, I can mourn a talent that was destroyed by persecution. Either way, forgiveness doesn’t enter into it. At the end of the day, those of us who have enjoyed Michael’s talent—especially those of us who basically grew up on it—well, I think we all just feel the need to be nostalgic for a minute and give a little respect to the memory of a man who gave us so many good memories.
It doesn’t mean he’s forgiven, not that it would be up to us anyway.
It just means that some of us—many of us, it seems like—are capable of letting the music stand alone.
Wait, that’s wrong.
The music doesn’t stand alone.
It stands with us. It stands in us. And it lives.
*just watch the video from the seven minute mark if you don’t have the time. i swear, this man could have been a famous ballet star just as easily as he became a pop star. he would create the most incredible lines, in ridiculously rapid succession, and make it look like he wasn’t even trying.
Filed under: i'm watching, life, the universe, and everything., music on June 26th, 2009 | 3 Comments »
