There isn't much to add to the retrospectives and eulogies that isn't already floating out in cyberspace in some form.
Initially, I was fascinated by the strong push to remember Jackson at his best.
"I know he was mired in controversy the last decade of his life, but I think it's time we let him rest in peace and learn to separate the art and the artist," Ahmir "?uestlove" Thompson, the drummer for The Roots, told Pitchfork.com. "That is the MJ I will forever remember."
I was never a big Jackson fan, but I understand the impulse behind those such as ?uestlove. The best way to deal with loss is to "think of the good times so they become the only memories you have." That's what a friend said when I was little.
I may not have been a big Jackson fan, but I know he was a distinct voice. I respect and admire his undeniable effect on music. It's not that he had big singles or that he made Thriller, the best-selling record of all time.
It was the way he did it. He made music videos into an art form. He crossed musical and racial boundaries. He moonwalked his way right into music history. He changed the game.
In a sadly ironic way, his passing has provided him a comeback far greater than the 50 dates scheduled to start Monday at London's O2 Arena ever could have. He had six of the top 10 records the week after he died and became the first artist to sell more than 1 million digital downloads in a week.
I know I haven't made too many trips up and down the dial since June 25 without finding at least one station playing "Beat It" or "Billie Jean" or "Thriller" or "Bad" or "Black or White" or "Don't Stop 'til You Get Enough" or any of his hits. Even if you weren't a fan, you knew his songs.
For me, silly as it sounds, I'll best remember Jackson for having a changing touch on another important piece of pop culture history: "The Simpsons."
"Stark Raving Dad" was the show's third-season premiere episode in September 1991. In an episode in which patriarch Homer is sent to a mental institution for wearing a pink T-shirt, Jackson delivered one of the show's most memorable guest appearances. He played Leon Kompowsky, Homer's roommate who pretends to be Michael Jackson to make himself feel better.
I didn't see the episode until at least seven or eight years later. I wasn't allowed to watch "The Simpsons" when I was little.
I knew the King of Pop was on the program, though. It was what all the cool kids at school were talking about on the playground at recess.
Later, when I was a teenager permitted to watch the show, I binged. I recorded every episode I could find to VCR cassettes, watching and re-watching them, including the Jackson one.
Eventually, DVD box sets replaced the tapes, and after hearing the news of Jackson's death, I came home and plucked "Stark Raving Dad" off the shelf.
On the episode's DVD commentary, Jim Brooks, a producer on the show, notes, "at the time, this was the biggest guest in the show's history."
He was a huge guest to land who also handed Bart a No. 1 single in several countries with "Do the Bartman."
Those were just a few ways in which Jackson changed life for the yellow man. Guests were already an essential component of the program. Dustin Hoffman, Penny Marshall, James Earl Jones, Jon Lovitz, Danny DeVito and recurring guest Kelsey Grammer had already made appearances by the start of the third leg.
Many modern guests get a one-line cameo, but Jackson's episode-long appearance legitimized going on "The Simpsons" for future guests. Even Tony Blair did a spot when he was still prime minister of England.
"The Simpsons" also instituted a rule after Jackson chose to use a pseudonym for his appearance — if you wanted be on the show, you had to cop to it and put your real name in the credits.
For "Stark Raving Dad," Jackson was credited as John Jay Smith, but the subterfuge didn't last. Everyone knew it was him.
That's because Jackson's voice was too distinct.
And in ways that reach far beyond a prime-time cartoon show, his voice always will be.
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