So, now it's over and we've had a few days to digest. Every conversation that I've had about the er... spectacular has included some take on "It was pretty tasteful considering...", which is all well and good except that no one is sure as to how that sentence should end. First, I have to say that a rousing rendition of "We Are Going To See The King" is not the most tasteful choice to accompany the wheeling out of the King of Pop in a red rose topped casket that, through several unfortunate shots in CNN's coverage, ended up resembling a giant overdecorated chafing dish. Speaking of that title; when did he get promoted? The last I heard, he was the (self-proclaimed) Prince of Pop. Perhaps I missed a coronation or, maybe that was the coronation.
Many wonderful words were spoken, many that seemed inappropriate - particularly when spoken directly to the children of the deceased, and a few that seemed to be tossed out as an advance defense of any horrible discoveries pulled out from under a bed or the back of an underwear door. Brooke Shields' words proved to be the most effectual, alternating between awkward and humorous as the truth often does, reminding us that the King of Pop was a human being just like us, only with more accoutrement, and daughter Paris, of course, brought that point home merely by referring to him as "Daddy". After that, all the jokes seemed a little less funny and many of us realized that something other than a legend was now gone. Even Jermain seemed off limits after his beautiful rendition of "Smile" and he could finally be forgiven for that duet with Pia Zadora. Father Joe didn't speak and, after his label hawking at the BET Awards, that's probably the best thing about the whole show.
Still, I find that I have to go way back to find a place in Michael Jackson's history where there wasn't a joke or rumor attached. Back to the beginning, in fact.
I was only four years old in 1969 when "I Want You Back" was released, backed by that stunning version of Smokey's "Who's Been Lovin' You" that, during the spectacular, finally got the attention that it deserved. "ABC" followed and it's around that time, I recall, that I pitched a fit for my mother in an attempt to get a copy of "16" or "Tiger Beat" magazine because The Jackson 5 were on the cover with a fold out poster at its center. Next came "The Love You Save", a record so good that it stands as one of Motown's finest and comes with one of Jermain's finest moments on the flip, "I Found That Girl", all made even better by fold out poster on my wall. And then came the angelic "I'll Be There", impeccable and impossibly mature in delivery for a twelve year old, sung with such ease that Mariah Carey should forever hang her head in shame, and the biggest hit of Motown's "Detroit era". Four instant classics in a row, all going to number one, and all within a year. One Christmas release later - they never really count - and the spell was broken: "Mama's Pearl" stopped at number two, suffering from sounding too much like "ABC" and "The Love You Save" yet not enough and, perhaps, the group's over-exposure.
"Never Can Say Goodbye", again stopping at number two, eased the transition of Michael to solo status but "Got To Be There" could only make it two number four. For the next two years the chart results were uneven and the release schedule was filled with novelties and remakes and one Stylistics sound-alike, "Maybe Tomorrow", that barely sounded like a Jackson 5 record; not surprising as it had been written for Sammy Davis Jr. and possibly arranged for Diana Ross at her gloopiest. "Sugar Daddy" would hit number ten at the beginning of '72 but the Jackson 5 wouldn't reach that bracket again until "Dancing Machine" in 1974. Two years later, fed up with the label that set them into orbit and then kept them under strict control, the group dropped the 5 and moved over to Epic. Even there, they'd only manage two sizable hits, "Enjoy Yourself" and "Shake Your Body (Down To The Ground)" within the three years before the success of Michael's "Off The Wall" hinted at what was about to happen. As wonderful as 67% of "Thriller" is, the Michael on my wall would not be seen again after the Motown 25 special, growing bigger with each single/video yet fading away behind gloves and jackets and Bubbles and zombies.
A day or two after Michael's death, a friend asked if I didn't think it was too soon to be making with the jokes. It took me a few moments to realize that my answer was no because he'd been a joke for so long. And it only took a few moments with Brooke and Paris to realize that I was wrong. My Michael may have been gone for a very long time but Brooke's friend and Paris' father lived far longer.
I don't know what comfort they will find in it but Michael will live on. Through endless repackaging, through the torrent of tell-alls that are bound to come, and through the steps of Usher and Justin and whoever the next generation brings to replace them, and within the grooves and bytes, Michael will be there.
Just look over your shoulder, honey...
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