Michael Jackson - Troubled Genius

Michael Jackson - Troubled Genius
Why Michael Jackson was so significant for my generation

Hearing the news today that Michael Jackson was first in the hospital, and then pronounced dead around 3:30pm PST evoked a nostalgic, and mixed response from this social commentator. I felt simultaneously sad for his death, and sad for the way he conducted himself for the last, oh, I don’t know, TWENTY years of his life. But I also felt blessed to be alive during Michael Jackson’s reign as one of music’s most profound geniuses. In fact, I felt like I grew up with Michael Jackson’s music as a soundtrack to my most formative years.

The Thriller video came out when I was only four years old, but as I was blessed to have older siblings who introduced me to Michael’s greatness, we congregated at my Grandmother’s house, a) much to her dismay because she didn’t see the attraction to MJ and b) because my parents didn’t have cable television at the time, hence no MTV to view the most exciting music video to air since music videos debuted with Video Killed the Radio Star. (By the way, my parents still don’t have cable. God Bless ‘em and their Minnesota roots that keep them somehow liberal and open-minded, but blissfully simple and removed from much of modern society. But I digress, that’s another blog.)

So even though I was very young, I remember gathering with my older brother and sister to watch the Thriller debut on MTV. I remember sitting on the floor – I didn’t have the seniority for a couch spot, and leaning against the couch with one of my Grandmother’s slightly musty-smelling throw pillows held closely to my prepubescent chest in case I needed to cover my face from the horror (which I did on at least two occasions, the first, obviously, being when Michael first transitioned into the night-creature.) I was hooked. Thriller was the first album I bought with my own money. I remember listening to it and Bad loudly on my headphones ad nauseam with my new portable tape player on the front porch of my parents’ home. I LOVED Michael Jackson. Couldn’t get enough.

So the question is: Why was Michael Jackson so significant for my generation? The most obvious answer is that he was a music genius. With the help of Quincy Jones he created some of the best songs, lyrics, hooks and melodies ever. That’s right, I said EVER. In my book he’s right up there with the greats: Beethoven, Cole Porter, Led Zeppelin, Cat Stevens, and The Beatles. But the fact that he was a music genius, albeit disturbed music genius, is pretty undisputed. What else? Well, there was a time (those of us over 20 will recall) when Michael Jackson was provocative and sexy. That’s right, he was SEXY. Pre-scandal, pre-alleged pedophilia, pre-plastic surgery addiction. He stirred our loins. Awakened some sleeping visceral giant within each and every one of us. Think about it. How can you not feel his songs in your lower half? PYT, Bad, Thriller, ABC, Billy Jean, and the like. It’s impossible to not feel something in your loins when hearing those songs, not to mention dancing in your school gymnasium with the lights low and the teacher/chapperone's busy with their flasks and flirting so you can get away with grinding up on each other. God bless dances in school gymnasiums and Michael Jackson. Lastly, there was something about his crotch-grabbing arrogance blended with an extended youthful naivety that made my generation feel somehow understood. Like he was singing to and for us. It is a rare thing in an artist to represent their listeners so completely. Rare and not to be taken for granted. Funny, it seems he felt taken for granted.

As today comes to an end, a day I’ll certainly remember the rest of my life, just as older generations remember Elvis Presley, Marilyn Monroe, and John Lennon’s deaths, and younger generations will remember Brittney Spears, Justin Timberlake, and Lindsay Lohan’s meeting the Grim Reaper (hopefully not for years to come, girls – please do take better care of yourselves; JT, you appear to be doing fine), I’m struck with sadness at the loss of a man who was as troubled as he was brilliant. No matter what you think about what he did or did not do in regard to his alleged misconduct with the youth he kept company with, he was indisputably troubled. His misguided and delusional choices to drastically and surgically alter his appearance over and over speak volumes to some inner self-loathing that was in complete contradiction to his musical genius. It seems genius sometimes comes with a price. So sad. I for one loved Michael Jackson’s music, and his will be my favorite music, especially for dancing, for many years to come. But it is impossible, given the latter years of his life, to remember him and his music without remembering the troubled soul that lived inside that mutilated face and body. Michael, I wish you could’ve loved yourself as much as we loved you. You were truly a beautiful boy and man before you started changing yourself for a world you didn’t realize appreciated you so sincerely and immensely. We will remember you through your musical greatness, and in your memory, may we take better care of ourselves and the brethren of talented artists you leave behind.