On a night when I could write about a host of topics -- the sudden warm weather in New Hampshire, the wobbly economy, or the joy and sadness which comes with seeing your children grow -- I thought it might do something completely different with this blog and comment on a person with popularity.
The news today that Michael Jackson unexpectedly died will no doubt receive an significant amount of attention in the coming days, weeks, and months. Towards that end, I don't pretend to offer much. First, I wasn't a huge MJ fan, to be honest, though I was also not blind (or deaf) to the obvious.
What was the obvious?
Talented -- of course. Insanely talented.
Breakthrough artist -- absolutely. He defied categories in the early 1970s with the Jackson 5 and again as a solo artist in the early 1980s.
Weird, and maybe even a criminal, person? All of the evidence was circumstantial, as far as I could tell, but there's no question this was not a person operating on the same cylinders as you and me.
So, with that mixed bag before us, let me simply share two brief, positive, and indelible memories of Michael Jackson.
First, the Motown 25th anniversary special, which aired in the spring of 1983. I remember reading a very positive review from Tom Shales in The Washington Post of the TV special, and spent that evening watching most of the broadcast. Michael was simply electrifying. After appearing with this brothers for a reunion of songs, he appeared unadorned on stage to sing "Billie Jean." It was crazy. The audience reaction was insane and I remember thinking, especially after he moonwalked, that it was one of the greatest live performances I had ever seen.
The second is a bit more obscure -- a 20/20 ABC News story on Michael, right around the time of "Rock With You," and it was about how this child star was emerging into an artist in his own right. The piece featured this funky thing called a video of "Don't Stop," and all I can remember is feeling (in that pre-teen body of mine) that this was some funky stuff. Not deep funky, mind you, but an everlasting, cross-the-galaxy funky. The kind of thing which was deep and light and forever.
In both instances, Jackson stands in my mind as a someone who could shatter a person's understanding of popular music. I will always regard John Coltrane and Miles Davis (and maybe others, like Stevie Wonder) before Michael Jackson in terms of overall importance in American music, but there's a special place for him nonetheless.
Maybe it's right here.
On dark nights in Winter, when we finish dinner early and the kids grab the iPod, there are two artists who get Mom, Dad, and all three kids dancing around the kitchen: the Bee-Gees are one, but it's always, always, always Michael who gets everyone out of their seat. Dishes are ignored, hips start to shake, and there is abandon in the air when that dudu-dat-dudu-dat drum bit comes a'tremblin' and that wompa-deh-wompa-deh-wompa bass line hits the speakers from "Billy Jean." Suddenly the madness of the world is far, far away and we are nothing but funky people, grooving to that-can't-resist rhythm that came from a young man born in Gary, Indiana many years ago.