To mark the occasion of the public memorial at the Staples Center in Los Angeles, ChordStrikers assembled thoughts and reminiscence about the man, the memories, and the music.
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BE THERE
I try not to think too much about the bizarre behavior, indiscretions, and even outright crimes of the entertainers who create works I've enjoyed, but I'm not great at blocking those things out. The “Wall of Sound” isn't as resonant for me since Phil Spector was found guilty of murder. I find it difficult to clap along with "Rock & Roll Part 2" at a basketball game without thinking of Gary Glitter's illegal interest in minors. And Michael Jackson's fall from grace -- strange physical changes and ugly allegations, not to mention weak remixes and lesser songs -- gradually diminished his unique gifts. I quit listening to his music, and when I ran into it, it didn't make me happy anymore.
Now, though, I can't get "I'll Be There" out of my head, and I'm surprised at its comforting effect. I wonder ... of all the songs Michael Jackson sang, as a solo artist and as the shining center of the Jackson 5, why that one? Maybe because it's a plea for redemption. "You and I must make a pact / We must bring salvation back." He might have thought salvation would come in the form of his upcoming run of sold-out shows across the ocean and a "Thriller"-themed casino. Maybe that would have done it.
Now, though, the suddenness and tragedy of his death has burned away everything but the purity of his performances, from brotherly harmonies to the moonwalk of Motown 25 to the “Man in the Mirror.” As I drove home tonight, bopping along with my sons to "Don't Stop 'Til You Get Enough," I realized I'd never be able to truly convey to them what MJ meant. So you think you can dance? Not like Michael. American Idol? Try world idol. It was my privilege to have come of pop-cultural age in a world that had him in it. My kids will know stars and see tabloids, but it will never be the same. -- Stephanie Reid-Simons
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CAPITAL GAINS
I was 19 when Off The Wall was released. At the time Michael Jackson was a star, even a household name, but more as the most talented output of the Jackson 5/The Jacksons, certainly not as the King of Pop. The arc of his post-child-star career was by no means certain and the music of clubs and discos was still firmly in the grip of Motown.
Right at the time of the album's release in England, a classmate returned to the school town I grew up in with an Aston Martin and limitless cash.
"I'm doing rather well on the stock market. Do you want to go out to dinner?"
He had a minder with him who was a cop. A London club-scene bender of several days ensued that steered to the center of a world I'd never experienced. Everywhere we went there was music, and 90% of it was Off The Wall.
There was a lull when this album stood by itself. It seemed that until mainstream dance music listened to MJ's latest then, en masse, charged off in the same direction he had gone, you could not buy or hear an album that sounded like it. It was more funk, soul -- even smooth jazz -- than disco. Gone was this goofy, funky-chicken Motown sound, replaced with slick, tuxedoed sophistication.
A couple of the clubs, I remember, had sunken floors full of flailing elbows and knees. Watching from above, when "Don't Stop 'til You Get Enough" came on, girl and boy alike, everybody's body posture changed in an instant. The dance floor was trying to get it together in a vocabulary of movements that few had any hope of replicating.
After a day or two of "the scene," I wised up. Things didn't add up with my host. My probes were rebuffed in no uncertain terms by the minder, and so I made my way back to suburbia. Years later I found out he had come into a trust fund and was running through it as fast as he could. There was no stock market job, the car was leased and everything, apart from the music, fell apart not long after. -- Hugo Munday
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ONE GOOD TURN DESERVES ANOTHER
I was in 5th grade the year that Off The Wall was released, and I was attached to that record in ways that only Kiss had elicited up to that point. I thought that “Don't Stop 'Til You Get Enough” was possibly the greatest song every written, and I had the opportunity to prove it that year.
Every class had a dance once a year. Because my elementary school was on the lower-middle class end of the scale, a “dance” consisted of the entire grade meeting in the auditorium, with a table full of punch on one side, and a record player with two small speakers on the other end. We were all encouraged to bring our favorite record and play one song from it, so that everyone had the opportunity for a turn (I attempted to “buy” turns off people so that I could bring more than one record, but was asked to stop when the principal found out). My choice was, of course, Off the Wall and “Don't Stop 'Til You Get Enough.”
When my turn came up, I gingerly pulled the record out of the sleeve, put the vinyl on the turntable, and put the needle on the record. The song started, and I turned up the volume (an action that became a point of contention between my fifth-grade teacher and me). Then I set myself to the task of dancing to my pick.
In a moment pure free of inhibition, I let the music dictate the moves. What came out of me can only be described in retrospect as a cross between a spazzy white-boy dance and a mime trapped in a box. My feet worked in a square, mimicking the boundaries of the box, while my hips attempted to keep up with the rhythm of the song, and my hands pushed up against the invisible walls of the box. This was my entire dance, for the five-plus minutes of the song. I was in a trance, and I didn’t fully realize until near the end of the song that I had everyone’s attention -- their full, undivided attention. I had literally brought everyone else to a stand-still -- mouths gaping, eyes wide and all pointed in my direction.
It did not discourage me in the slightest. I danced until the end of the song and halfway through “Rock with You” before anyone realized I was getting two songs. I thought I was the coolest I had ever been -- so brilliant, in fact, that everyone was compelled to stop what they were doing and revel in my magnificence. No one has ever been able to convince me otherwise. And I can only thank Michael Jackson for that.
Thank you, Michael. -- Robert Arambel
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EIGHT IS ENOUGH
Thriller was released when I was in 4th grade, and it was probably the first album I purchased and listened to over 50 times. It didn’t take too long for me to memorize the album, including the song titles. As it turned out, that proved to be a very good move for me in the 4th grade social scene, where my official nickname had been “Square” for some time. One day during recess there was some discussion started by the cool kids about Thriller and how good it was. I think I made some comment agreeing with them, which apparently did not please the cool kids, for they challenged me to name all the songs on Thriller in order. I immediately did so without difficulty. This feat impressed the leader of the cool kids, who responded with an offhand comment, something to the effect of, “Wow, I guess you’re not “Square,” you’re “Octagon.”
From that day forward, my nickname in grade school was “Octagon,” or the more colloquial version, “Octo.” -- Lucas Hilbert
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BRING DOWN THE WALLS
I was 12 when the video for "Thriller" came out – and it was NOT cool to like Michael Jackson at that time. MTV was a baby and we were all obsessed with watching. The build-up to the video’s release was, for me, akin to the release of the last Harry Potter book. They showed little clips and had great teasers for it, and by the time it premiered, we were all hooked. It changed the face of videos. Everything before that now seemed so juvenile. I didn’t want to tell any of my friends how cool I thought it was, but over the years, we all found out that every one of us bought the album: every one of us knew the dance in the “Beat It” video, and we all still know the “Thriller” monster dance. For a little alternative punk kid like me, it was the epitome of great music breaking down the barriers of style. -- Shauna Furbush
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WORLD MUSIC
I never considered myself a Michael Jackson fan until I moved to France after college. Michael Jackson is a huge star in Europe, and cultural references to him are literally everywhere. Then I started traveling more widely, and everywhere I went, from the Czech Republic to China, people knew about MJ. His presence -- and his music -- is truly global, more so, I would say, than almost any other pop artist. He will be missed. -- Bri Nguyen
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What’s your MJ moment? Were you Bad? How do you remember the music? Drop comments, read comments. Don’t stop ‘til you get enough.
-- ChordStrike
