"Cause we're the party people, night & day/ Living Crazy, that's the only way."- Off The Wall.
And I haven’t been sane since! Do you remember where you were when it happened? I do, like it all happened yesterday. I’m not talking about his passing or his debut of the moonwalk at the Motown 25 special. No, I’m talking about your recollection of hearing a Michael Jackson joint for the first time. We’d all heard the classics such as “I’ll be there,” or “ABC,” at one time or another. But I’m saying, what was the FIRST MJ joint you ever had the chance to absorb? What joint did you allow yourself to marinate all up in it? For me it happened December 1980. I was six years old & Michael Jackson deflowered my virginal ears, giving me the eargasm of a lifetime. It was Christmas & the whole family was gathered at my uncle’s house. Everyone was eating, laughing & having a good time. I was the only kid there & had no business “being up in grown folks conversation,” so I was left to my own devices. I wandered over to my uncle’s record collection and began to thumb through his albums. So many afros, bell bottoms & disco balls gracing the different covers I got dizzy. But one afro stood out among all others. I plucked this album out and was overcome by what my eyes were feasting on. A cocoa brown boy with the biggest, cutest afro, flashing pearly whites as white as his shirt, leaning up against a brick wall with a graffiti inscription which read “off the wall.” I held the album up and screamed out “who is this”? Everybody proclaimed “That’s Michael Jackson!” Shoot me for being ig’nent. I’d heard the name before, and the face was pretty vague, but this I wasn’t ready for. He was so handsome and appeared to be so sweet; I’d already picked him to be my future husband. He looked a little older than me, but I was gonna make it work. I continued to gaze at this album cover, not being able to take my eyes off him. My uncle’s brother- in- law gently took it out of my hand. It was his and I guess I wasn’t supposed to be playing with it. He then took the album outta the jacket, put it on the record player, and introduced me formally to the magic that was Michael Jackson.
I don’t remember the order of the songs, but I do remember the first song to rope me in- “Don’t Stop Till You Get Enough.” The special blend of his voice and the instruments were driving me insane. I remembered my mom saying he sang with his brothers, and I assumed they were singing backup on this song. Nope. It was all Michael, singing lead & backup. “How is he switching his voice up like that?” I asked. “Because he IS Miguel,” was my uncle’s response. He was a HUGE Michael Jackson fan & that was his pet name for him. We spent the rest of the night listening to Michael Jackson’s music- past and present. But me, I just stayed fixated on Off The Wall. The next day as we were going home, my uncle’s brother in law handed me the album. He said he had two copies and I could have the extra. “Thanks Chris,” I yelled as I clutched the album and followed my mom out the door.
Fast forward a few years & MJ is smoking hot! The year is ’84, Thriller is out & there was no stopping him. And I still loved him. A few shades lighter, a bit thinner, & a jheri curl, Mike was STILL alright by me. We were all rocking red jackets, white gloves & penny loafers. We put on our mother’s old house shoes and practiced the moonwalk on her freshly polished floors. "STACIE, I’m only gonna tell you ONE MORE TIME!" The Thriller album is the highest grossing album of all time, & the video just added to the madness. I remember it aired on a Friday night, and we rushed home from church to catch the premiere. Almost 15 minutes long, it was a mini movie which thrilled us in the worst way. And I fell deeper in love with the man who was already my future husband in my head. The album, video, & everything else associated with Thriller went down in the history books, making MJ a living legend.
“But they told me, a man should be faithful/ and walk when not able/ and fight till the end, but I’m only human …”
Mike was always special, but something took a terrible turn not long after Thriller. An increasing change in his appearance (skin color, hair, eyes, nose, chin) got folks to talking. Then there were the allegations of inappropriate behavior with young boys, which sparked a witch hunt. And as the accusations swirled, most of us began to believe it. Not to mention Mike himself continued to entertain these kids, making them strange bedfellows. The media began to name him “Whacko Jacko,” among other things. Always the “King Of Pop,” he was becoming more notorious for his eccentric behavior. And unfortunately, we fell into the trap of making him the butt of our jokes as well. He was built up to be torn down. They crucified him & we stood around and watched.
Today, a year and a day after his death, we don’t remember. We don’t remember the foolishness, the scandals, the cosmetic surgeries, or anything else which caused us all to raise an eyebrow. Correction, we remember, but we’re not dwelling on it. All we have now is fond memories of Michael- the music, the dancing, the way he made us feel through his artistry. Mike’s death shocked us, but none were really surprised. We’d heard he had an addiction to prescription meds and that his health was not one hundred. Word on the street was that Mike just wasn’t taking care of himself. And at the rate he was going death was inevitable. But hindsight is 20/20. Not only was death inevitable, it was his salvation, his emancipation, his freedom. Mike was never gonna be appreciated or absolved from his “freakish” past as long as he remained on earth. Too good for this earth, Mike couldn’t stay. He completed his mission in this life & left when there was nothing else for him to do. He is now free, and so are we. Someone always has to die to pay the price for freedom. When Mike died, the pictures of the reconstructed being were all over the place. But when you saw pics of him from yester-decades the reality set in. You felt the pain, hurt, & loss of THAT Michael because it was HE we loved first. And because we loved HIM first, we went back in time and just reminisced in THAT catalogue. We enjoyed the music we’d heard so many times at the school dances, neighborhood block parties, family reunions, weddings, repasts, birthday parties, or just a get together with family & friends. We LOVED him again. Not caring who was watching, we danced in the streets and sang at the top of our lungs when Mike made transition. I myself cranked up the first song I’d heard which seduced me almost 30 years ago. Same song, but this time it translated differently to my ears. His introductory “WHOO!” used to kick off the song rang as a celebration of his new found freedom. Followed by the strings & horns, you’d swear they were coming straight from the throne of God, where he and Jesus both did a celebratory dance for his homecoming. I’m not mad at him. I’m HAPPY for Mike. And I’m happy for us as well. His death freed us to love him again unabashedly. The overwhelming feeling of love & joy his music provided conquered the grief & sorrow. There was no time for that. Because at that moment we realized he hadn’t really gone anywhere. Mike was still with us … just dancing in a NEW transfiguration.
“And when the groove is dead & gone (Horns, Horns, Horns)/ Yeah/ (Horns, Horns, Horns)/ You Know That LOVE SUR-VIVES/ So We Can ROCK Forever …”
