My personal eulogy for a legend that once lived among us begins right here and now.
Michael Joseph Jackson. What a gift he was to the world. What a wonder he showed the world. He was not merely a musician, but an artist who encompassed and embodied perfection and showmanship within that child-like behaviour. How could one ever feel for a man who was pushed into show business at a tender age of 5. How can anyone understand the life that he led or the pain that he had. How can mere people like us even imagine what living as the King of Pop would have been like? His celebrated life soon tormented and now celebrated again by people wishing under their breaths that they hadn’t called him a freak once before. What would any of us know, about how any part of his life would’ve felt like?
My childhood, just like for many others, was filled with Michael. I got introduced to Michael with ‘Bad’. Since then, I used to save money and plead with my mum and brother to buy me his records. I used to hunt the stores after school for anything I could find on him. I would tape his concerts, interviews, his videos and everything on television about him just so I can watch it again and again. I would play his videos and put it on slow-mo so I can learn his steps. I wanted to learn to moonwalk and to move like him. He took something from people like James Brown and brought it to a whole new level with his mastery of the beat. Along the way I would have blisters on the foot doing the moonwalk. There was no place too small or big to practice. I would practice in the living room, the bedroom, the kitchen, the shower and anywhere else that wasn’t bustling with people. Tracks such as ‘Man in the Mirror’ and ‘Will you be there’ had such overwhelming emotions that it seemed more magical than mere pop. But somewhere along the path of growing up I gave up. I gave up wanting to dance like him. The fact is that there is no one in the world that can be like him. There wasn’t a soul who can do the slightest bit of justice impersonating a man who made history with what he did. He was the one artist who could let the music take control of him but yet he takes control of the stage. His stage presence wasn’t merely mind-blowing but it was a force to be reckoned with. The sheer power he had on stage made people cry and faint finally getting carried out of the crowd by bulky security personnel. I remember watching his History concert at the national stadium. The crowds raked in from as early as morning wanting to get as close as they can to the action. I was no different arriving at around noon. My friends and I felt the life sucked out of us for it was so painful waiting to see the King. The anxiety and the thrill of watching a man so legendary was overwhelming. And when he did come, the stadium roared with such deafening voices that it will be remembered for a long time to come. It was beautiful to see people united by a man who was neither a black nor a white. After many years, somehow Michael became universal, as how some would put it. He put the black community on the world map and later united the blacks and the whites with his music.
It would’ve shattered fans to hear that he was accused of child molestation. It affected me as well. How can a man who was so child-like within, singing songs of his own sad childhood and being tormented by brothers who urged him to engage with groupies behave in an offensive manner with kids? He loved children. All his profits from his Dangerous tours went to charities. There was a man who was giving to the world in a way that he can but yet being traumatised by the very society that he tried to help. By the very world that he so cared about. Michael is a stroke of genius that soon became a dark shadow of himself. Pushed into the layers of ice he moved, shying away from the world that he so loved. Michael was a man with so much of popularity and wealth living a life secluded and in loneliness trying to find ground that will not give way. So yes he had cosmetic surgery done. Perhaps he even had bleaching done. Or perhaps he even was eccentric. Why is it that a man who brought pure music to the world judged upon what he does unto himself and not judged upon what he gave to the people around? Perhaps it is now a trend that if you do not get a boob job then any other cosmetic surgery will not be tolerated. Wasn’t it us who damaged the ozone layer and started waging wars with each other? Wasn’t it us who pushed what was the brightest star on earth into the dark abyss? Wasn’t it us who asked Michael to give us his music and yet tore him apart from within? Fact of the matter is that no matter what he may have been or accused to have been, he was a musician to everyone else. He was and still is that person who created not music, but an entire different culture. Michael was screaming through his songs to be left alone from the satire and pejorative tabloids. He was never let alone until now. And now a voice within me screams that ‘he was only still a child’. Michael was only still a child...why didn’t they leave him alone.
Michael to many was not any of those described. He was not a child molester nor was he eccentric. He was a mere man who refused to grow up and had so much of care for the world. He was a mere man when he was alive because a man can get hurt. And get hurt he did many a times. Now which vulture or money grubbing journalist shall defame him some more shall go ahead. When artists sang his songs at his memorial I realised that there will never be another person in the world who would be able to sing his songs. No one will have his voice but most importantly, Michael sang from his heart and his gut. Only Michael can sing his own songs because he sings them from deep within his soul. He can make his fans cry with the way he sings and that accolade can only be given to him. When Michael passed on, he did not pass away quietly. He made the world that he cared about, now care for him. He made the world that did not care when he became a recluse now stop and reflect, and finally realise, how much he actually meant to them. He made people realise that true legends will never be forgotten and like the thirst in our throats we will thirst for him again and again.
When Michael passed, it was not only an end to an era, it was an end to some of our childhood. It is an end of a storybook about this child, that never saw a life fulfilled, that was stabbed by the very people it loved. This was a story about a child that refused to grow up but showered the world with its sheer talent. This story now ends short with so much regrets that perhaps, this little treasure should’ve been better protected from the cruelties. But all that has been said, done and sung...all that remains now is the soft hum of his music...that magical music. His legacy is written in stone...rest in peace Michael Joseph Jackson.
---- Mugi
Michael Joseph Jackson. What a gift he was to the world. What a wonder he showed the world. He was not merely a musician, but an artist who encompassed and embodied perfection and showmanship within that child-like behaviour. How could one ever feel for a man who was pushed into show business at a tender age of 5. How can anyone understand the life that he led or the pain that he had. How can mere people like us even imagine what living as the King of Pop would have been like? His celebrated life soon tormented and now celebrated again by people wishing under their breaths that they hadn’t called him a freak once before. What would any of us know, about how any part of his life would’ve felt like?
My childhood, just like for many others, was filled with Michael. I got introduced to Michael with ‘Bad’. Since then, I used to save money and plead with my mum and brother to buy me his records. I used to hunt the stores after school for anything I could find on him. I would tape his concerts, interviews, his videos and everything on television about him just so I can watch it again and again. I would play his videos and put it on slow-mo so I can learn his steps. I wanted to learn to moonwalk and to move like him. He took something from people like James Brown and brought it to a whole new level with his mastery of the beat. Along the way I would have blisters on the foot doing the moonwalk. There was no place too small or big to practice. I would practice in the living room, the bedroom, the kitchen, the shower and anywhere else that wasn’t bustling with people. Tracks such as ‘Man in the Mirror’ and ‘Will you be there’ had such overwhelming emotions that it seemed more magical than mere pop. But somewhere along the path of growing up I gave up. I gave up wanting to dance like him. The fact is that there is no one in the world that can be like him. There wasn’t a soul who can do the slightest bit of justice impersonating a man who made history with what he did. He was the one artist who could let the music take control of him but yet he takes control of the stage. His stage presence wasn’t merely mind-blowing but it was a force to be reckoned with. The sheer power he had on stage made people cry and faint finally getting carried out of the crowd by bulky security personnel. I remember watching his History concert at the national stadium. The crowds raked in from as early as morning wanting to get as close as they can to the action. I was no different arriving at around noon. My friends and I felt the life sucked out of us for it was so painful waiting to see the King. The anxiety and the thrill of watching a man so legendary was overwhelming. And when he did come, the stadium roared with such deafening voices that it will be remembered for a long time to come. It was beautiful to see people united by a man who was neither a black nor a white. After many years, somehow Michael became universal, as how some would put it. He put the black community on the world map and later united the blacks and the whites with his music.
It would’ve shattered fans to hear that he was accused of child molestation. It affected me as well. How can a man who was so child-like within, singing songs of his own sad childhood and being tormented by brothers who urged him to engage with groupies behave in an offensive manner with kids? He loved children. All his profits from his Dangerous tours went to charities. There was a man who was giving to the world in a way that he can but yet being traumatised by the very society that he tried to help. By the very world that he so cared about. Michael is a stroke of genius that soon became a dark shadow of himself. Pushed into the layers of ice he moved, shying away from the world that he so loved. Michael was a man with so much of popularity and wealth living a life secluded and in loneliness trying to find ground that will not give way. So yes he had cosmetic surgery done. Perhaps he even had bleaching done. Or perhaps he even was eccentric. Why is it that a man who brought pure music to the world judged upon what he does unto himself and not judged upon what he gave to the people around? Perhaps it is now a trend that if you do not get a boob job then any other cosmetic surgery will not be tolerated. Wasn’t it us who damaged the ozone layer and started waging wars with each other? Wasn’t it us who pushed what was the brightest star on earth into the dark abyss? Wasn’t it us who asked Michael to give us his music and yet tore him apart from within? Fact of the matter is that no matter what he may have been or accused to have been, he was a musician to everyone else. He was and still is that person who created not music, but an entire different culture. Michael was screaming through his songs to be left alone from the satire and pejorative tabloids. He was never let alone until now. And now a voice within me screams that ‘he was only still a child’. Michael was only still a child...why didn’t they leave him alone.
Michael to many was not any of those described. He was not a child molester nor was he eccentric. He was a mere man who refused to grow up and had so much of care for the world. He was a mere man when he was alive because a man can get hurt. And get hurt he did many a times. Now which vulture or money grubbing journalist shall defame him some more shall go ahead. When artists sang his songs at his memorial I realised that there will never be another person in the world who would be able to sing his songs. No one will have his voice but most importantly, Michael sang from his heart and his gut. Only Michael can sing his own songs because he sings them from deep within his soul. He can make his fans cry with the way he sings and that accolade can only be given to him. When Michael passed on, he did not pass away quietly. He made the world that he cared about, now care for him. He made the world that did not care when he became a recluse now stop and reflect, and finally realise, how much he actually meant to them. He made people realise that true legends will never be forgotten and like the thirst in our throats we will thirst for him again and again.
When Michael passed, it was not only an end to an era, it was an end to some of our childhood. It is an end of a storybook about this child, that never saw a life fulfilled, that was stabbed by the very people it loved. This was a story about a child that refused to grow up but showered the world with its sheer talent. This story now ends short with so much regrets that perhaps, this little treasure should’ve been better protected from the cruelties. But all that has been said, done and sung...all that remains now is the soft hum of his music...that magical music. His legacy is written in stone...rest in peace Michael Joseph Jackson.
---- Mugi
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