Living Off the Wall

When I first heard the news that Michael Jackson died I didn't think too hard about it. Sure I was sad that a person who made such great music and was so beloved by the world had fallen to such unthinkable depths, an agonizing crawl from the absolute height of worldwide fame that could ever be achieved by a human soul to the subject of near constant ridicule and scorn (even until the end though there was constant love). In many ways the person my parents and my older cousins knew growing up had been dead for damn near twenty years, replaced by something that looked very much like a ghost. As much as people my age hate to admit it or try to pretend otherwise (and by my age I mean anyone who was less than 3 when Thriller came out), we didn't really know who Michael Jackson was. By the time we were cognizant, he had already become something of a circus freak. Bad was released in 1987, a few days before I turned 1, and he'd already completely changed his color and his hair. He still made good music, but when I heard or thought about Michael Jackson during my formative years the negative ("I pledge allegiance to the flag, that Michael Jackson is a fag," the "In Living Color" send-up of the "Black or White" video, the child molestation charges) completely outweighed the positive (my cousins VHS of Moonwalker). Not to say that I wasn't completely entranced by the man, even as a little kid. I knew he was important, an outsized celebrity before I even knew what a celebrity was. When I took my test to get into kindergarten and the proctor told me to draw something, I drew Michael Jackson, albeit with an enormous head (anyone who remembers the Speed Demon video from Moonwalker might get why. Needless to say, they said I did not get into kindergarten). But I can't say that I really knew or loved Mike. Not the way my cousins can, not the way the people I saw at the Apollo can. I can love his music, his history and like to the greats from Motown's past, his undeniable genius and enormous talent surrounded by an equally undeniable pain. But his justfiable heyday as the biggest pop star this planet has ever known is an era that I just missed, and it would be dishonest if I mourned him as if I was a front-row spectator for the creation of a legend, when really, I just watched the re-run.

These past couple of days though as every car that passes blares "Billie Jean" and "Beat It" and every other track from his magnum opus out of half rolled down windows, I've found myself gravitating towards songs from "Off the Wall." It's not to be contrary, I enjoy "Thriller" just like everyone else. It's just that, for some reason, when I listen to "Off the Wall," I feel like I'm listening to Michael's last hope. It's well known that Michael was disappointed after the release of "Off the Wall." Although it was critically lauded, he felt that it hadn't been treated with respect by the Grammy's, and he vowed that it would never happen again. When he released "Thriller" he was a man on a mission, to become the biggest and richest pop star the world had ever known. And he did that, it took him three years, but he accomplished what he set out to do. But what was the ultimate cost? Everybody knows how well hindsight can see, but knowing how damaged Michael's psyche was, would it have been better for him and for his life had he not accomplished his ultimate goal? What if he'd been satisfied with the success of "Off the Wall" (and it was still uber-succesful, ultimately selling 7 million copies in the US and having four top ten hits)? "Off the Wall" sounds like pure joy a man has on gaining his independence. "Thriller" sounds like a man on a mission, and the man became ensnared and trapped by the consequences of that mission's successful completion for the rest of his life. My sister said to me that when she looks at a picture of a young Michael Jackson when he was with the Jackson 5, she wants to give him a hug and tell him everything is going to be okay. I want to walk up to the 21 year old Michael after "Off the Wall," won only one Grammy and tell him how great the album was. Maybe we wouldn't get "Thriller," but we also wouldn't get everything that came after it too. Rest in Peace Mike