Michael

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Hey, Brandon ol’ son

Thought I’d drop a line. I was awake 5:30 till 8:30 this morn and saw the Farrah story … then got to sleep again with phone switched off. Got yr message among a posse of others when I switched on later. I was foggy when I read The Story … but not shocked. And, as the day has rolled on and I’ve been to the city and back, I still, at 3:56, don’t feel any surprise. It’s indeed a Big Story and somewhat historical, but no surprise, really – don’tcha think? How can any mortal wear a life like that? Constant weirdness and pain, constant press ridicule, harrowing courtroom trials and then substance abuse …

As I say, Big Event – but to me no surprise. I am inured to big shite after all the stuff of Sept 11, Diana, Port Arthur, Lennon, Elvis?

I just reckon it’s a giant relief for the poor fucker.

I did meet him when he was 13 and I was 20

Cheers

Rod.

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There is no doubt that the passing of Michael Jackson was the big story of the day. Even the capturing of Osama would have been shunted to page three on a day like this.

I remember feeling stunned at the loss of Jimi, Janis and Jim in quick succession. Surprised, when Elvis died. Crushed, when John Lennon was murdered. I could not share in the outpouring of grief when Kurt checked out, much less, Tupac. But, like Rod, I don’t feel much of anything about Michael Jackson. Like everything else about him in the past couple of decades, the reality is overshadowed by the spectacle.

I felt a greater cause for reflection on the sudden departure of Billy Thorpe.

This afternoon, while standing in the bank, I heard one frothy radio commentator utter the words: “…will he be remembered like Marilyn – or will he be remembered like …Jesus?” I’m amazed that people actually listen to this crap without a gun to their head.

Michael Jackson was someone who genuinely warranted the mantle of Icon. He may have made, ..no, did make, some particularly creepy lifestyle choices. Face it, nobody short of Dubya has been such an epic fail when it comes to acts of positive self-promotion.

The pinnacle was ‘Thriller’, of course. The record is a funky-as-shit masterpiece and made Michael a bona-fide superstar. The icing on the cake was in unveiling his Moonwalk on that Motown 25 show back in ‘83. It blew everybody’s mind, and even if some had been previously immune, they weren’t any longer.

He recorded with McCartney, Jagger, anyone he wanted. He married Lisa-Marie Presley. He kept a monkey called Bubbles. He wore one glove. He burned his hair in a Pepsi commercial. He slept in a hyperbaric chamber. He married again. He proclaimed himself King of Pop. Rather than change his expression, he changed his face, more than once. He hung out with Liz Taylor. Hell, he shot himself so damned far into the celebrity stratosphere, he appeared as some kind of untouchable Royalty. Not as the rest of us mere mortals, or even, Tom Cruise.

Plenty of today’s stars (and many more failed wannabe’s), grew up watching Michael Jackson’s moves on television. Problem is, none of them are even remotely like him. They may have commanded the attention of the public and media in mastering the shallowness of spectacle, but the talent? You don’t get to ape that, no matter what the media might tell you.

Like our Blues legends, we are now running shorter on Pop Icons. The real Pop Icons.

Where are the next legitimate Superstars coming from? Britney? Is that really the best this generation can offer? Give me a break. For better, or worse, Michael Jackson, poor bastard, was different than the rest of us. Arguably, the endless controversy meant that his career and credibility were over before his life, but that is not the way he is going to be remembered. We know too well already what an early death can do for preserving a myth.

Since early this morning, there have been several emails and text messages arrive on the subject, along with the inevitable jokes. But Rod’s email best summed up my own feelings on the matter. Call me a heartless bastard, but I don’t have any. I’ve been numb to the tragic farce of Jackson’s everyday life for far too long. But there will always be the music. Some of that stuff was truly great.

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