It has now been a little bit more than 35 years since That Moment. It was March 23rd, 1983; NBC aired one of those huge, literally Made-for-TV-Specials that both specific families and the “American Family” as a whole could gather around the TV and enjoy. It was literally Made for TV and it was literally Special. "Motown 25: Yesterday, Today and Forever,” was a celebration of the label and it’s legendary roster of single name stars: Diana. Smokey. Stevie. Marvin. And on and on.
The original broadcast was watched by 47 million people, according to Nielsen, with 35 percent of the country with a TV set turned on watching. Certainly my 15-year-old self, and my Black family was watching. It was almost like a virtual family reunion.
Those are number unthinkable now for any program not featuring the New England Patriots. Talk to someone in their 20s now and it’s hard for them to fathom that there was a time when, in fact, millions did gather around their TV sets in prime time for events and shows like this on a regular basis.
Also difficult? Trying to explain to someone under thirty about the impact Michael Jackson had on the 80s, music, race and the culture at large.
The image of Michael Jackson to the general population of those millennials and under is that of a ghostly, frail, freakish individual who died like a common pauper nine years ago, on June 25th.
But ...That Moment...on Motown 25, when Michael Jackson and his brothers did their performance, with Michael also slipping in some of his new hit “Billie Jean” the world took note. His performance and the now legendary moonwalk was a defining moment in the history of pop music.
Jackson’s second album as an adult, Thriller, had been released in December of ’82 and had been doing well on the charts; but after Motown 25, it soared into the stratosphere like few albums before.
However, memories of that era are bittersweet. Even as Thriller made Michael a megastar, it also became his Frankenstein Monster. It’s incredible success took its toll on him, turning his greatest triumph into the cudgel which ended him.
Michael and Thriller have been much on my mind in recent weeks; both in the context of the successive 35 years since (Reagan, Rodney King, O.J., Barack Obama.) and of the last couple of years. (Kanye, Race, #MeToo)
*****
There are a precious few albums that are no longer just the sum of the actual content contained in their cardboard covers or shiny plastic discs. These albums define a movement or a decade, or both: Michael Jackson's Thriller is one of those. It seems hard to believe on this, it's 35th Anniversary. Nine songs? 42 minutes, and nineteen seconds? That's it? (note: Dark Side of the Moon is is only 30 seconds longer)
Thriller didn't occur in a vacuum of course; it has the DNA of a hundred previous soul and pop records in it; there's Motown (of course) with those memorable addictive choruses; There's a definite Stevie influence. There's Earth Wind and Fire. There's Nile Rogers, both elements of his band Chic, and of his production work on Ross, the best album from Michael's fairy godmother, Diana.
There's Heatwave (whose Rod Temperton wrote three Thriller tracks); there's the Brothers Johnson (Louis Johnson plays on the album), George Benson ("Give Me The Night" was produced by Quincy Jones.) and a smattering of Beatles and Van Halen (courtesy of Paul McCartney and, well, Eddie Van Halen.)
There's Shalamar, There's some Bowie, some Hall & Oates and Michael McDonald. There's Boz Scaggs "Lowdown", there's Queen's "Another One Bites the Dust", Steely Dan's "Peg", and Blondie's "Heart of Glass". Records that are undeniably pop, undeniably soulful, but with a bit of edge to it. It’s a hard balancing act to manage, but Thriller accomplishes it.
Of course, at the heart of it all is Jackson's own history; the early bubblegum records with the Jackson 5 and then the last two CBS albums with them, Destiny and Triumph. Particularly the standout tracks "Blame it On the Boogie" and "Heartbreak Hotel". In between of course, was the great Off the Wall , his first adult solo album, the one where Michael was able to let loose.
Quincy Jones understood something intrinsic: that Michael was not a funk or an "R& B" artist. Out of that acronym you could leave the Rhythm , but take out the "blues" and replace it with "Groove." Jackson rode a track like no one else. He let the beat chauffeur him around in a Chevy convertible.
He wasn't afraid to be a little goofy, a little vulnerable. He prized restraint and the merest hint of carnality. He wasn’t James Brown or Otis Redding. He never gave you everything in a song. But Movement (with a capital "M") was central to the adult Jackson's appeal; he injected his legs into the beat, and the beat had to reciprocate.
And this is where we get Thriller's standout track "Billie Jean." 35 years later, it is still in the top 10, (maybe top 5?) of greatest pop songs ever.
In that same vein you get "Wanna Be Startin Something" and "Thriller", songs that lept through the speakers at you. He threw everyone a left hook with "Beat It" original Bum-Rush-The-Stage track that reclaimed rock in the name of its black inventors, and set the stage for Run-DMC's "Rock Box" in '84 and the Beastie Boys Licensed To Ill in '87.
"PYT" is a pleasant throwback to his Jackson 5 days; on anyone else's album it would have been the biggest hit. "Baby Be Mine" is pleasant enough lightweight pop, the type that would — unfortunately — come to dominate later albums; "Human Nature" is one of his prettiest songs ever, showing us his gift of harmony and skill of expression of longing. Eddie Murphy certainly had a good laugh at Michael's expense in his concert act, ("Tito...get me some tissues.")
"The Girl is Mine" .… well...I didn’t say the album was perfect...
UGH. One of two duets with Paul McCartney in this period and it’s a wash. McCartney made out better, putting the superior "Say Say Say" on his album The Pipes of Piece. But still, this puff piece made it all the way up to #2 on the charts. Again, Ugh.
"The Lady In My Life" has, sadly, largely been passed by; it's one of those Old-School style soul ballads with the extended coda; someone like Ronald Isley would have had a field day shouting preacher-style across it. Michael handles it with typical aplomb, showcasing his perhaps underrated voice.
And there you go. Nine songs. 42 minutes, 19 seconds, of pure phenomenon.
There’s a myth that the music business was hurting badly in the early 80s. Not true. Business was down a bit, yes. The retirements of Eagles and Zeppelin left a perception of dire straits; but records were still being sold -- Toto, Men at Work, Asia, Hall & Oates, and Fleetwood Mac all had decent sellers. Sure video games were competing with the music biz for dollars — but this was also the era when two stark movements driven purely by teens — Heavy Metal and New Wave — rose to the fore. It’s not like we kids were making choices between Pac-Man and Judas Priest.
But after a red-hot 70s, the record biz, was accustomed to having block-busters. Nothing had really set radio on fire since the dual triumph of Saturday Night Fever and Grease. Thriller became that block-buster.
Thriller sold well in early ‘83. Then it sold more after Motown 25; and then sold more. And More. And More. After the title track became it’s own mini-movie, the disc sold even MORE. There was a point in 1984 when Thriller was selling a million copies a week.
Thriller and the Jackson phenomenon can’t be discussed without also discussing MTV. Suddenly cable became able to do more than just air sports and old movies. “I Want My MTV” became a rallying cry for the new movement in pop. Jackson’s video triage – “Thriller”, “Billie Jean” and “Beat It” – were addictive, watchable over and over again. Pop music gained a new dimension of visuals.
Michael’s influence was everywhere, whether he was directly involved or not. He pioneered “hook singing” while guesting on the hit from his childhood friend Rockwell, the ode-to-paranoia, “Somebody’s Watching Me” (a hint of things to come?); big sis Rebbie Jackson was able to snag a hit with “Centipede” (written and produced by Michael); the afterburners of Thriller even dragged the Jackson Brothers’ slapdash, raggedy Victory album to multi-platinum sales.
(Even more than that, the massively hyped Victory Tour, was, in a very roundabout way, responsible for enabling Robert Kraft to buy the NE Patriots and build them into the world-beaters they are today.)
Outside of the Jackson family, The Thriller-Michael-MTV connection, gave a boost to pop music in general as it burst open with a new sense of possibilities in 1983. As mentioned before, New Wave was already exploding (the Eurythmics, Duran Duran) as was heavy metal (Quiet Riot, Def Leppard) but with Michael's and MTV's success, there was encouragement to throw money and publicity at more artists from these burgeoning genres as both made for good videos.
Michael injected his brand of danceable pop-soul into the zeitgeist. Suddenly everyone was dancing -- even the classic rockers: David Bowie refashioned himself as, of all things, a Pop Star on the Nile Rodgers-produced Let's Dance. There was Genesis, ("Just a Job To Do"), Stevie Nicks, ("Stand Back"), Pat Benatar ("Love is a Battlefield"), even Jethro friggin’ Tull (“Under Wraps") – it was as if everyone was responding to the lyrics of Midnight Star’s hit "Freak-A-Zoid" and "reporting to the dance floor."
Even jersey boy Bruce Springsteen who was coming off 1982's morose, acoustic “Nebraska” was ginned to join his Columbia label-mate with the Michael-ish “Dancing in the Dark”.
Michael also changed R&B – for better or for worse, maybe both; the multi-member, horn-driven bands of the 70s were out – and a leaner, synth driven style exemplified by Luther Vandross was in.
Lionel Richie found himself a prime beneficiary of the Jackson effect parlaying his Crossover-before-Crossover-Was-Even-A-Thing style into multi-platinum thanks to the integration not only of MTV but of pop radio. This break down of radio apartheid has had far reaching effects; Chaka Khan's Prince cover "I Feel For You" became one of the early 80s great R&B singles thanks to massive Top 40 airplay; Whitney Houston, and sister Janet, also benefited. Freestyle, Vocal House, Electro-Boogie, New Jack swing, and hip-hop ...Thriller was the portal that made all of this more palatable to Whiter/Wider audiences. (more on this in a second) Look at radio today; hip-hop has taken over to the point where mainstream R&B has, sadly, become an endangered species.
Speaking of entry doors, Thriller enabled the embrace of Madonna and Prince, who had the same architecture as Jackson and used the fallout from his star power to fuel their own empires -- though in a far gaudier furniture. Michael’s was the rising tide that lifted all boats.
Michael led, everyone else followed. Everyone in the music business had to either up their game or be left behind. The winsome, shag-rug, lite pop of the 70s was like a distant memory as former mega-sellers Christopher Cross and Toto faded into obscurity.
It did not hurt that the nation was in a relatively good spirits during this time. Which brings us to...sigh...Ronald Reagan.
It’s debatable about how much of the problems of the Carter Years were actually the fault of Jimmy Carter and how much of it was simply forces beyond his (or anyone else’s) control. But the fact remains the late 70s-early 80s were a huge downer. The Hostage Crisis, the Oil Crisis, the recession; the Assassination of John Lennon. By this time in 1983, all that was in the rear view mirror. OK, sure, nuclear annihilation. Fine. But other than that, we were firmly in the Reagan Era with all the attending optimism a part of Jackson's appeal. And don't think Reagan didn’t realize it. He invited Jackson to the White House in May, 1984, ostensibly to thank him for allowing “Beat It” to be used in a PSA against teen drinking and drug use. But let’s be honest here, it was a magnificent photo op designed to connect Michael's star power to Reagan’s re-election campaign. Genius!
ARRGH
The music of the time was upbeat, it sold well, and gave the country a sense that It’s Party Time.
By the end of 1984, Thriller was the bestselling album of all time, outdoing the Saturday Night Fever soundtrack. Pop music had become a universe unto itself with Michael seated at the head of the celestial table at least, for the time being.
But, nothing lasts forever.
******
There have been four musical mega-stars in the modern era of pop music: Frank Sinatra, Elvis, the Beatles and Michael Jackson. These four 1) changed music, 2) changed the culture, 3) changed the concept of fame and stardom and 4) altered the workings of the music business in their own ways.
The first three on this list burst into stardom early in their careers and were unable to sustain their initial success: Sinatra had fallen into a career ditch by 1950; Elvis’ post-Army career cratered behind those underwhelming soundtracks to his terrible films; The Beatles voluntarily threw gasoline on themselves, immolation the only way to free themselves from the iron grip of Beatlemania.
Michael should have been immune to all that. He was different from the others in that his mega-stardom came after almost 15 years in the business, as opposed to when he’d just starting out with his brothers in ‘69. He’d avoided the coke, the booze and fast women , which were readily available — even to minors — in the unruly 70s. His position as a hit maker was solid. Thriller had set the template for the music business. There wasn’t going to be some seismic shift away from pop that disturbed the ground beneath his nimble toes. To top it off , he was getting paid. He had a primo royalty rate of $2 for every copy of Thriller sold.
Michael wasn’t just a millionaire though. He wasn’t just a multi-millionaire. He was a Black multi-millionaire. And we were entering an age where he wasn’t alone. The 80s saw a gentle explosion in African-American faces in TV, radio and movie screens. As opposed to the preceding decades though, it would be minus overt politics. Call it the first beginnings of what we then dared to dream might be: A Post-Racial America.
Give Berry Gordy the credit. Or...the blame. When fashioning Motown, he described its music as “pop” or “dance.” The audience? They were “The Youth”. “Young America” His performers? “The New Generation” “the Stars of Tomorrow” and so on and so forth.
One thing that neither the music, nor the performers nor the audience was...was “Black”.
That word had been banished by Gordy. Diana, Smokey, Gladys Knight, the Temps, the Jacksons...they were Entertainers. Period. Just like the Rat Pack, Judy Garland, Fred & Ginger, and so on. They were carrying on the traditions of the past, plain and simple. There was no place for a James Brown or a Nina Simone at Motown. No way. They made color-blind music for everyone.
Throughout history Gordy has been alternately praised and pilloried for this stance. Take whatever side of the fence you choose, I’m not here to debate that. But inescapable is the fact that, in the 80s, for a brief time — Black celebrities were free from being Black.
Blacks had been sports stars for decades, from Jackie Robinson through Jesse Owens through Muhammad Ali and Reggie Jackson. But as we entered into the 80s, we found ourselves in an age where blacks dominated and, with increased power of players’ unions, were expected to be rewarded accordingly. In addition, politics and civil rights would start to take a back seat. Magic Johnson was one of the first big stars who was, as the cliche goes, “transcending race”. He would be joined by Michael Jordan, Mike Tyson, Bo Jackson, Carl Lewis and the list goes on. They drank soft drinks, Their role model. O.J. Simpson. “The Juice” had leveraged his skills and good looks into commercial endorsements and movie roles. He was the avatar of Post-Racial America.
On TV, two wildly disparate figures became mainstays in America’s living rooms: Gary Coleman, the cherub-cheeked tot from “Different Strokes”; and then the menacing B.A. Baracus aka Mr. T from “The A-Team”. These shows garnered huge ratings and Coleman and Mr. T became pop culture icons. But even they paled against “The Cosby Show”. Debuting in 1984, the low-key sitcom became a ratings juggernaut, powered by Bill Cosby. He took the street-wise vibe of “Fat Albert”, and transferred the “We Learned An Important Lesson Today”-sensibilities to prime-time and it worked. “The Cosby Show” didn’t ignore race, but unlike Norman Lear’s classics (Good Times, The Jeffersons) it didn’t dwell on them either.
Another comedian became a TV smash in the 80s, although he was a planet removed from Cosby. Eddie Murphy was part of the second generation of Saturday Night Live, and was often praised as “the only good thing”-about the post Belushi/Akryod/Gilda/Chevy classic cast. His sketches and edgy humor on the late night show were hilarious and he soon had Hollywood calling. In no time flat, he left SNL and rolled out a series of highly successful feature films. Murphy’s film career correlated with that of his inspiration, Richard Pryor. Pryor, ironically, was on NBC television before Murphy (1977’s “The Richard Pryor Show”) but he was definitely Not Ready For Prime Time. (Or rather, Prime Time wasn’t nearly ready for him. Nobody cared about SNL in the early 80s so Murphy was given free reign.)
Together Murphy and Pryor were making millions at the box office, in high budget films, not the “blaxploitation” flicks of a decade earlier.
It was a glorious time to be Black. Every month it seemed, there was a new “first” for African Americans: First Black Miss America! (Vanessa Williams), A second Black Miss America! (whoops!) First Black Mayor of Chicago! (Harold Washington), First Black Astronaut to go into space! (Guion Bluford), A Black Man on Morning TV! (Bryant Gumbel) A Black woman hosting her own talk show! (Oprah!)
Viewed through this sunny media lens, it seemed as though nothing was out of reach regardless of one’s color. African Americans began to enroll in college in record numbers; we were opening businesses, entering law, medicine, science, elective office like never before.
It seemed like Dr. King’s Dream was coming true.
It seemed.
************
Michael Jackson’s Bad was the most anticipated album since, well, forever. Of course it wasn’t going to be as massive as Thriller, but there was no explaining that to Jackson. Quincy Jones tried to tamp down expectations, but Michael was convinced that 25 million in sales was now his status quo.
The first single from Bad was the wafer-thin, eminently forgettable "I Just Can't Stop Loving You" a duet with unknown singer-songwriter Siedah Garrett. It was the first indication that Jackson was going to be playing it safe this time around. Sure, it rocketed to Number #1, just as four other singles from the album did. But with the exception of “Man in the Mirror”, and maybe "Smooth Criminal", none of them had any real lasting impact. The songs came ...and they went. It was almost like an obligation to purchase Bad, as if you owed Jackson that much in return for Thriller.
No chances were taken; there was none of the inventiveness of Thriller. Bad is overproduced, drowning in Linn drums and synths while Michael ratchets up the tough-guy act. It's an OK party record, but it paled in comparison to Prince's Sign of the Times and George Michael's Faith. Jackson was being beaten at his own game.
Of course, it sold massively, and tickets for the Bad Tour sold out immediately. Michael was super-rich, swimming in cash. The royalties from sales, from airplay, the sales of the Thriller home video, merchandise, the Pepsi endorsements, etc. Even after giving away his share of the proceeds from the Victory and Bad Tours, Michael was on a first name basis with private bankers. Now a grown man, he was able to indulge himself however he wanted to. And indulge he did with two life-defining purchases: The Neverland Ranch, and the Northern Songs catalog (which has evolved to become known as the Sony/ATV Publishing catalog.
These two purchases, while looking astute at first, would come to contribute to his ruin in years to come. Neverland – a comparable property to his future father-in-law’s Graceland – was to be his grand reward for all the years of his childhood missed due to the toil and sweat of show business. He took the stately home and added carnival rides and a zoo. The Northern Songs catalog notably contained the publishing rights to most of the Beatles and Beach Boys songs. If properly utilized, this would enable it’s possessor to reap a fortune over the course of decades.
“If” being a key word both here.
The problem is, with Thriller’s immense sales, and with the money and fame it brought him, something happened to Michael that hadn’t happened throughout his per-pubescence or teen years. He began to believe his own hype.
Every popular entertainer must establish a sort of boundary, a Berlin Wall of sorts, between oneself and their adoring public. Yes they cheer today, but there will be a new someone tomorrow. A pro athlete has to realize they’re always one ankle break away from the unemployment line. A movie star is only as good as last weeks' box office receipts.
And a pop star — even the King of Pop — is only as great as his or her last single.
********
Decades usually don't announce themselves so early. The sixties, arguably didn't become The Sixties until 1967 with the Summer of Love and Sgt Pepper’s. The 70s didn’t become The Seventies until the 1976 election of Jimmy Carter, and the premiere of "Charlie's Angels".
But the 90s? Holy shit, the The Nineties announced themselves with a roar early on as the nations of the world rallied to battle overnight villain Saddam Hussein. On the musical front, gangsta rap came stomping out of LA, guns blazing. (Literally!) And from Seattle, Washington, of all places, three schlubs who looked like escapees from a Charles Dickens orphanage roared over distorted guitars announcing that a new hierarchy was in place.
In January 1992, Nirvana's Nevermind took the #1 spot on Billboard’s Top 200 Albums chart. The album Nevermind displaced? Michael’s Bad follow-up, Dangerous.
Dangerous had, predictably, debuted at #1 three weeks earlier, benefiting from much hype and the Jackson Brand. Millions of dollars had been spent on recording, marketing and promotion. MTV had put the first video in maximum replay after Pepsi had arranged for a prime-time premiere for it. It was to be the big release of Christmas.
But what nobody could have predicted was that Dangerous would be cast out of the top spot in such a short amount of time by a record that was recorded for about what you’d pay for a used Ford Escort.
Back to that first single/video: It was a serious misfire demonstrating myopia on the part of Jackson and Sony records. Even as the Rodney King Video was now a household world. Jackson released the happy-go-lucky, racial-unity, one-world track "Black and White" complete with a video featuring new pal Macaulay Culkin.
While not as hermetically sealed as Bad, Dangerous still sounds too fussed over. Teddy Riley gave Jackson some New Jack edge on the seven tracks he produced (even as the New Jack era was coming to a close -- great timing!), but the remaining seven songs on sound as if they were leftovers from a Michael Bolton album. And like most major-label CDs from the 90s onward, it’s too damn long, clocking in at 77 minutes, almost twice the length of Thriller.
Bad was at least an album that could be embraced, but Dangerous found Michael tossed into irrelevance. And not just Michael, but his ideals. That Post-Racial Dream went up in smoke almost literally after the LA Riots. The world of the old days, of Motown, The Beatles, the old Charlie Chaplin and Fred Astaire films Michael loved — they now seemed a million years away. The world now belonged to N.W.A, Public Enemy and Guns N Roses.
****
The 90s were tough on all the 80s stars; Springsteen searched for identity in the Clinton Era, jettisoning the E Street Band; Madonna found her sexual, star-making persona had hit its ceiling); Prince treaded water and fought with his record company; The Cyndi Laupers and Duran Durans however, wilted under the heat. Only U2 prospered, mainly by embracing 90s cynicism and irony.
But whatever one's luck, no one would have traded places with Jackson during the decade. The body slam into irrelevance was one thing; but then came the child molestation charges, that altered his life forever. The formerly untouchable, iconic figure of Jackson was now assailed by the ugliest accusations imaginable. And while you wanted to believe him, when he made that now infamous "video message" proclaiming his innocence, we saw the extent of Jackson's metamorphosis. Bereft of the video screen and the professional-management approved photo shoots, we saw the skin even paler, the evidence of another nose job; He might not be a molester, but... what WAS going on with this guy?
The case was memorably dropped after a reported $20M payout to the accuser and his parents. (orchestrated by Johnny Cochran) But Jackson's personal and professional lives both started to spiral out of control after this point and there would be no return. First, there was the weirdo marriage to Lisa Marie Presley. Then the even weirder marriage to Debbie Rowe and the mysterious births of his children.
1995's HIStory cd came out of the gate with the flop sweat evident; Columbia Records packaged it with a disc of greatest hits, complete with a thick booklet that trumpeted Michael’s former achievements ("XXX million copies of Thriller sold,") The original studio disc was mediocre enough on its own; being reminded of Jackson's past glories only made it seem worse. He went on tour with HIStory although never coming to the continental U.S.
(Following the initial molestation case, Jackson would seem to shun America for the rest of his life; it's as if, even as the US began worshiping false idols, those in other countries -- where his records were still quite popular and where he was still front page news -- still afforded him his rightful due as the “King”)
A few months after the release of HIStory, came the verdict in the O.J. Simpson murder case. Again, Johnny Cochran to the rescue. O.J. was found not guilty. But the Post-Racial Dream...it wobbled again. It seemed now that we at the point of no return.
Then came the Wacko Jacko era; the shopping sprees continued unabated; the rumors of drug use and plastic surgery proliferated; he continued to bus children into Neverland; and he kept drawing loans from the Sony/ATV Catalog to pay for it all.
The Invincible album, released a few weeks after 9/11, did OK, but was hardly a salve for his financial woes; It's a not a terrible cd; the worst one can say is that Jackson succeeds in imitating himself reasonably well. In an age dominated by Eminem and Lil' Jon, Invincible was a good album by a forty-something Jackson and enjoyable for his forty-something fans. It seemed as though Jackson was accepting a diminished standing in the music biz.
But no. A petulant Jackson developed a penchant for self-immolation in his old age; following the lackluster performance of Invincible, he organized a rally to protest Sony Records' alleged failure to properly promote and publicize the album, literally demonizing Columbia president Tommy Mottola in the process. Of course, artists feud with their record labels all the time -- Lynyrd Skynyrd, Neil Young, Nine Inch Nails, the Dixie Chicks, rappers The Lox -- but for Jackson, who had been in the Sony collective for 25 years at that point, to make this so incredibly public and personal made jaws drop in the industry. Even Prince in his "Slave" era never went this far.
Jackson's belief in his infallibility was unshakeable. And to be sure, he did have some logic on his side in this fight; Sony was - obviously - the co-owner of the Sony/ATV Catalog; Jackson theorized that Sony might be trying to water down his record sales in order to make him destitute and have to sell them the other half of the catalog for a fire-sale price. Still, even given the fact that, yes, “Record Company People are Shady”, there was more of the "Do you know who I am? “ -type arrogance in this situation.
Then came Bad Move #2: for some reason known only to him, he decided to let TV personality Martin Bashir do a Follow-Around documentary. A show in which he admitted "yes I sleep in the same bed with young boys. Why, is there an issue?". In the history of bad decisions, this was right up there with the captain of the Titanic binge-reading Tarzan novels instead of looking out for those icebergs. Shortly afterwards, the second round of molestation charges ensued, prompting a raid on Neverland Ranch and, this time, an entire trial.
Jackson would be acquitted. He survived again. But with every Indiana Jones-type death-trap escape, he seemed to lose a little more of himself.
After the trial, he became a sort of high-class vagabond; He traipsed across the Middle East, Ireland, and Las Vegas with his three children in tow. He refused to go back to Neverland but he couldn't find it in himself to sell it either. Even though the rides were eventually shut down, and animals started to be removed to new homes, the joint still had upkeep costs of $10K a month, including the 75 (!) automobiles. And there were the legal fees. And the payments from the Sony ATV loans were coming due as well.
His career was in shambles; he had no record company, there was no appetite for another Michael Jackson record, and even had there been, the post-Napster era was disastrous for album sales across the board. The only bright spot was in touring. But Michael refused to do so, even as his contemporaries (McCartney, Madonna, The Stones) were racking up nine-figure grosses at football stadiums around the globe. Rumors abounded that he was too frail, too addicted to medication from too many plastic surgeries.
By 2008, Jackson's back was up against the wall. (No pun intended). He was on the verge of losing Neverland, and the Sony catalog would soon follow. A veteran financial lawyer working pro bono tried to cut deals with the various creditors and was able to get Jackson a six-month extension contingent on some good-faith payments starting soon. That meant Jackson had one choice: performing live.
And so came the beginning of the end.
Jackson took Live Nation up on a long-standing offer: 10 shows in London which immediately sold out and another 40 were added on. Some say he was merely resigned to his duties, while others say he was genuinely excited by the shows. He certainly looked that way at the press conference when he announced to the gathered throng of fans that "This Is It!"
And so it was.
***********
Nine years ago today, The Music Died.
Millions stood with him non-stop throughout all his trials and tribulations, through thick and thin. (Remind you of anyone?) Upon his death, makeshift memorials cropped up around the world. Twitter exploded in usage for the first time. (Another Good-thing/Bad Thing part of the Michael Legacy.)
But still, Thriller remains.
That Moment, the incredibly flawless moonwalk from Motown 25, remains.
The nerdy dude at the end of the “Beat it” video remains.
The Thriller video remains for life: The Zombie Dance remains. Vincent Price's laugh remains. Thanks to the internet, Michael is doomed to eat that popcorn in the movie theater forever.
We've let a few Dangerous bits in; The fantastic "Remember The Time" video has gained new relevance in the age of Black Panther; The cavorting with Naomi Campbell in the "In the Closet" video gives us as studly a Michael as we were ever going to get.
But we've excised just about everything afterward: The marriages; Blanket on the balcony, the unfortunate anti-Semitism of “They Don’t Care About Us”.
So powerful was Thriller, and so hardy the nostalgia of Generation X, that we have constructed an alternate reality for Michael. He did not die young like Marilyn, or James Dean or Jim Morrison, but we have afforded him that eternal youth nonetheless. The chubby-cheeked kid with the afro and the Sgt. Pepper-jacketed icon with the jheri-curl. That's OUR Michael.
We no longer have to deal with the messy realities and myriad unanswered questions: Was his childhood really that terrible? Did he really hate his father that much? Was it the Pepsi commercial that got him addicted to prescription drugs? What went on at Neverland? Did he really just think of himself as a 10-year old boy? In either case, was it wise to have him around children? What was his deal with women? Who's kids are those? Why was he so astute with money in some ways and so apathetic about it in others? Did he have a hoarding problem on top of everything else? Where WAS that other glove?
It was impossible to grace him with this warm, hazy glow while he was living, with all his contradictions. Now that he's gone, WE can write the narrative. None of us are in his will, but it's like we DID inherit the rights to his personage from here on out.
That’s the guilt I feel when dealing with Jackson's afterlife. In the age of #MeToo we’ve entered a new age of zero tolerance of sexual crimes. But Michael is still on the radio. He’s still selling records. His Cirque du Soleil shows were huge hits. And now there’s a Broadway musical coming. The hypnotic lure of that Billie Jean beat is hard to overcome. We can imagine a world without Harvey Weinstein movies. We could survive without R. Kelly music. We sure as hell can survive without XXXtencion.
But..a world without Michael? Is such a thing even possible? Or desirable?
It is almost as if we were waiting for Michael Jackson to die....so that we could have Michael Jackson back. If there was a war between Thriller and the soul of Michael Jackson, then, well, Thriller won out.
He's gone. Thriller remains.
