Urban Thought Collective

I still loved him. I didn’t think of him often; he had confused and upset me, so I kept a distance from his regular comings and goings. I was hurt by the things he did to himself. His once beautiful, black face made into what seemed to be a facade of moveable parts and melanin challenged skin. It hurt to see him dissolve.

So, out of love, I always felt it best to look away. I knew he had a lot of pain. That he was trapped in an unprecedented realm of fame that warped him and made him what can kindly be referred to as eccentric. But, when I played his music, I pictured him as he was in that moment. For most of my adolescence, he was ever present. His dancing, his voice and his aura laid the foundation for soundtrack of my life. I stayed with him until about ‘92. It just became emotionally Dangerous for me to be too attached after that. Besides, I kinda had a thing for his sister for a while, so I was getting my fix.

As kids, his music got my sis and I Off the Wall, ready to Burn the Disco Out. His fashions and classic ad lib’s thrilled us. To borrow from Run DMC, he was not Bad, meaning bad but bad meaning good. Seeing him and his brothers on stage was the equivalent of being thrown in a blender and coming out smooth and full of flavor. An experience you could savor and relive with palpable sweetness and joy.

Still, I’m surprised at how deeply his passing has affected me. I can remember watching his performances and seeing people faint at the very sight of him. It wasn’t a rare occurrence for folks to DIE at one of his concerts. Before social networking meant something you did on your computer keyboard, his music and unique style of expression spread across the globe in an unfathomable wave of adulation and worship not seen since, well, ever. He was simply the biggest star on the entire planet. Who can top that?

The generation after me sees the young guys dancing and singing and thinks they invented it. I contend that every male (and some female) artist from at least 1979 to today owes a big part of his career to MJ. These self proclaimed (Hi Kanye) “dopest entertainers” (usually via artificial means) are just pulling off a great parody of the original. Even if by sheer osmosis, there is no performer today that has not been influenced him. If he had not introduced certain textures of unmatched innovation into the zeitgeist, they simply would not have come up with it on their own. Who else can you say that about?

It was our Human Nature to deprive him of solace and privacy. We just couldn’t help it. As with most megastars, scrutiny and glass bubble observations morph them into weird caricatures that we alternatively love, hate and fail to remotely relate to. Part deity, part extreme dichotomy, he wasn’t perfect. He was just who he was; in all of his glory and shame. I can say with certainty that if I had grown up the way he did, and went on to reach the dizzying heights he reached, you could go ahead and book me for a bed at the loony ward. No doubt I would have done several laps around and over the cookoo’s nest if I had endured even half the abuse he experienced. Once his father found out his gift, the kid became the bread winner of his family, making him simultaneously their sacrificial lamb and savior. A lot to carry for a little boy with low self esteem an off the charts talent that was a blessing and a curse. Who can live like that and be expected to exude normalcy? Not possible.

As a boy, he sang like a soulful man who had already experienced a lifetime of love and loss. As a man, He Never Could Say Goodbye to his childhood. He wanted it back. He wanted to do it all over again, his way. Of course, he couldn’t. But he probably killed himself trying.

Ellene V. Miles is the managing editor of www.urbanthoughtcollective.com and has worked as an entertainment publicist for many years. Her collection of rants is featured exclusively on UTC for the good of the people.