Like so many others, Michael Jackson pretty much defined my childhood.
When the news of his death broke yesterday, I honestly found it hard to choke back tears. For a man who put so much heart into his music, it was very difficult to imagine that heart would ever stop beating.
The Bad Album was the first album I ever bought (well, was bought by my parents for my brother and I to share), on cassette tape, naturally. I think we literally played that thing to death.
I remember the premier of the Black & White video being broadcast on regular TV. Not a music channel, regular prime time TV. That was fucking huge in England. I think everyone in the country was glued to their TV that night and it was all we talked about at school the next day.
I remember the Remember The Time video, pausing it and slow motioning it until I had every dance move down.
I remember being in Dublin, watching him on Oprah. That interview seemed to stop the world for a minute.
I remember seeing the footage of his Motown 25 performance where he did the moonwalk for the first time and feeling just as electrified as I would have been had I been there myself.
I have watched more variations of the Michael Jackson story than I thought were possible. There was a time when I could have quoted the The Jackson Five Story movie word for word.
Yesterday, for an hour or so, there was complete confusion as to whether he had passed or not, with all news outlets seeming to report different things. About twenty minutes after all the major news channels seemed to confirm it, a funny thing happened. Michael Jackson started blaring from the radio. I turned it up. There wasn’t a soul in my office that wasn’t tapping their foot, nodding their head and singing along. And there is his legacy.
So I would like to thank the God that is Michael Jackson for enriching my life and my iPod. Thank you Sir. Heaven is about to have one hell of a party.