The king is dead

Wow. I never thought I’d see this day.You know everyone’s got to die at some time or another, but the words of one mourning African woman sums it up: “He’s a legend, he’s not supposed to die,”.

I can’t recall exactly when I started to fall in love with Michael Jackson’s music, but it was somewhere between the moonwalks,  riveting rhythms and the coolest music I’ve ever heard off punctuated by the occasional odd squeal (I’m sure a great giant transforming robot/spaceship/humanoid thing had something to do with it too). I tried my darndest to swivel my feet in a manner that allowed me to magically glide backwards in my bedroom, but alas to no avail. I never knew why I loved his music (“You’ve been hit bah, hit bah, a smoooth criminal!”), but I sure thought it was the coolest thing on the planet. And for a while, everyone else agreed with me.

Now that I’m older and older, I begin to rediscover the mastery of the King of Pop, his ridiculously talented performances and getups. Part of the appeal of his singing came from his incredible expression of whatever he was singing. It wasn’t merelysinging; it was like watching the best movie in the world, listening to a tragedy, vocal gymnastics, soap opera and disco pop drive all in one. He sounded like he was totally convinced by what he was singing, passionately bringing every straining bit of his tongue, vocal chords and throat to bear on every single note. And he put his heart in it. Like he was emotionally involved in everything he did. In doing so, we belived him that we were not alone, it didn’t matter if you were black or white and that the man in the mirror was a terrible person. He sounded like he was singing to each and every person over the world personally through the radio, and whatever he said had to be true, because it sounds so perfectly right. What talent he had, what mastery he held!

One day at a time, we lives our lives. One day at a time, life is slipping past us. We all have to die some day, I hope to die in a manner worthy of the life I’ve been called to live. I don’t think I’ll ever be as talented as Michael Jackson, nor as immensely popular and slightly reconstructed. Michael Jackson had built himself a never Neverland where he would never have to grow up, lately I’ve be looking towards some where a little more permanent than these frail, human trappings. I hope that I’ll live the good life, run like a man intent on winning, and fight a good fight.

“I’ve got a home in gloryland that outshines the sun”

Rest in peace Michael, I hope that you’re somewhere kinder, in a gentler place.Your music lives on, and will continue to inspire legions of musicans to come.