RIP PYT.
Well, I was going to post something else—a scintillating diagram of my brain, actually—but I have just heard the news about Michael Jackson.
I don’t know if I have told you this, but at one time…oh, about 25 years ago, it was my intent to marry him. I had a Michael Jackson doll (Barbie VASTLY preferred him to the insipid Ken), and the day I received him we danced around the room together, all romantic-like. I also had the Thriller picture disk, and it, along with my Jackson 5 45, were the most-played records I owned, and the first. I couldn’t have been more than four or so when I got them. I remember seeing the Thriller video, allowed to watch MTV for that specific purpose, and my sense memory of that day is unusually strong. I was home sick, an afghan on my lap, eating a spoonful of sugar (it turns out it does not, in fact, help the medicine go down), alternately terrified and exhilarated by what I was watching. Thriller is still among my favorite albums, and being a Halloween baby, I listen to the title song every year on my birthday. Listening to Beat It in my room as a six year old made me feel pleasantly hardcore, I won many a birthday party dance contest with my moonwalk, and Billie Jean is on nearly every mix tape and CD I have made. If you can listen to that song without dancing, well, you should probably have that checked out by a professional.
We grew apart, Michael and I, and I froze him in my mind somewhere not long after Thriller, when he still seemed impish and vital. When I picture him, I picture him as he appeared on my beloved picture disk, or in the video for Don’t Stop Til you Get Enough, and I never owned any of his albums after the Bad era (though there was one song off Invincible, now that I think of it, that was a feature of the late night dance parties my roommates and I used to have alone in our apartment).
His music was the first that was my OWN—not something my parents listened to, something just for me, and there is no artist I have listened to for longer. I know what I am mourning is something from a long time ago, in a way, but I am truly sorry he is gone.
Tonight I put Billie Jean on for Simone, and you have never seen a more enraptured, head-shaking baby. She kept turning to grin at me, like “Are you hearing this??” Naturally, I shimmied my shoulders in reply.
16 Comments
I am with you.
It both “makes sense” (skeletal/inhuman appearance for last decade, assumed drug use, scandal) and defies sense (kind of a cyborg, so, immortal/one of those people who don’t seem to age, despite having such distinct career phases). Plus it’s one of those oh, crap! reality! moments for me (loss of hero/does this mean we, too, are aging, are now somehow closer to death?).
Very sad day.
I had Thriller on vinyl and I think my mom sold it in a garage sale some years later. Thanks, Mom. He was the staying power amongst the Debbie Gibsons and Depeche Modes of the day.
alexa you stole straight out of my head exactly what i was thinking and what he meant to me growing up. okay, i didn’t have the doll, but i was scared shitless but equally excited by the thriller video, myself. and what you said about it being the first music of your own… i couldn’t relate more.
He was my intended at five, as well.
Less so recently, when he resembled a zombie marionette dressed in the traditional garb of a Muslim woman.
Really, the only explanation is that he was higher that Jim Morrison times Nikki Sixx.
Thanks for sharing your thoughts. You made me remember the really, really good times with MJ. I even followed your link to his older videos, and took a nice trip back in time. He was the biggest thing going for my middle school years. Thanks for making me take the time to remember.
I used to put “Beat It” on the jukebox in my college bar when there were no tables available. I don’t know if it was the fact that Michael Jackson was immensely unpopular at my college or if the title acted subliminally, but it would always clear out 2 or 3 tables.
As a kid, I remember thinking he kicked ass for having baby tigers, which must have been his, right? Since they were climbing on him on the album cover? I loved the video for “Billie Jean,” with the sidewalk lighting up. Much less scary than the Thriller video, which made me nearly pee my pants the first time I saw it.
It does seem so unreal. It’s sad too. As much effort as he supposedly spent trying to live forever and he’s gone so young. I wonder what will happen to his children.
I have very similar memories. He was just such an enormous part of the cultural landscape of the 1980s and 90s. I used to force all of my friends to play Don’t Stop ‘Til You Get Enough over and over at house parties in college and ummm…very recently. Sad day.
Yesterday was not a good day for eighties icons. First, Farrah Fawcett died from anal cancer, an awful humiliating end for anybody but especially sad to think of that gorgeous girl in the red one-piece losing her beautiful blonde hair (we all wanted hair like Farrah!) and then Michael died! Just when he was about to embark on an earth-shaking comeback that was going to be ushered in with a series of concerts rumored to feature a dance move that was going to surpass the moonwalk.
Sad, sad, sad. All that pain. All that wasted talent.
Oh, ditto. Possibly one of the first 45’s I owned was Rock with You (I wish I could remember was what on the B side) That’s how I remember him too. RIP.
If you haven’t already read it, another fantastic post on MJ, which I think you’d agree gets it right:
http://soul-sides.com/2009/06/michael-jackson-never-can-say-goodbye.html
I’m with you. Michael Jackson’s Thriller (and Madonna’s “Like a Virgin”) were the first 2 albums I listened to.
Great post… expressed my thoughts/sadness so perfectly.
You said it perfectly, Alexa!