Rants and Chants

Thursday evening, after work, I heard that Michael Jackson had died. I thought, “Eh, well, Wacko Jacko won’t be backo,” and quickly got on with dealing with my own life. Or tried to. I quickly found that both facebook and twitter were sluggish. For that matter, it felt like there was enough traffic to slow down just about every other online activity, including e-mail.

I woke up Friday morning, anxious to check the weather because I had travel plans for the weekend. Within a few minutes, I clicked through every local and national news channel, only to find that every one of them was running continuous coverage of Michael Jackson’s death. Even the local cable channel that everyone calls “the ugly news” was finding ways to cover it. I had to sit through ten minutes of “Michael Jackson has been dead for more than twelve hours, and still is, but we are continuing to follow this developing story…” before they finally paused to give a few seconds’ sound bite for the weather, after which they went right back to breaking news about Michael Jackson.

Developing? Breaking? More than twelve hours later? I began to wonder whether Michael would arise from the dead and reveal that he is, after all, the Second Coming.

I burned out on Michael Jackson while he was still at the height of his career. I bought “Shake Your Body Down to the Ground” and “Beat It,” but I didn’t consider much else worth buying. The white glove thing seemed silly and pretentious to me. Moreover, after Thriller, he quickly went weird, getting surgery to look like Diana Ross, setting up the Neverland ranch as a creepy Peter Pan haven, and constantly grabbing his crotch. His songs became lame. If Annie were okay, he would not have to ask “Annie are you okay” forty-three times in a four minute song (“Smooth Criminal”.) I was relieved when Nirvana’s Nevermind bumped Jackson’s Dangerous off the charts.

When the pedophile charges came out and the court cases ensued and dragged on, I got thoroughly disgusted with the freak show – and the freak at the center of it. Yes, I know, he was not found guilty. But, c’mon, even if there were no lines crossed, what is a man doing hanging out with an entourage of pre-pubescent boys? Why would he have them at his house for sleepovers, regardless of who slept in what bed? He was either a totally naïve idiot or he was bordering on an unhealthy interest. The circumstances themselves should not have been arising and every other adult professional around him should have been bursting any naïve bubble he may have been in.

When it came time to replace my vinyl 45s with MP3s, I no longer considered any of Jackson’s songs worth getting. Even if I accepted (which I do not) the “it’s the artistry, not the artist” argument, I just don’t think Jackson’s songs have aged well enough to still be considered great songs. On an artistic level, he is not the Beatles, he is not the Rolling Stones, he is not Fleetwood Mac, nor the Police, or Led Zeppelin, or Billy Joel, or any of a long list of other great 60s, 70s, or 80s musicians. More than that, however, I also cannot separate the “man” from his music. I refuse to buy anything he’s ever made because I don’t think he, either artist or person, deserves my money.

So to have Franken Jackson’s face thrust before me on more than a score of television channels Friday morning was more than I could take. I quickly set my facebook status to notify the world that I was boycotting television, radio, and even the Internet all weekend, waiting for the hype to blow over. Even before I logged off, I had Like and Comment notices indicating others agreed with me.

I have to confess, on my evening drive up to Saratoga Springs, I reached Albany and my resolve to avoid all media was wavering. I was well within WEQX range. EQX is a great, independent radio station from Manchester, Vermont. They play a lot of Modern Rock and advertise themselves as the “real alternative.” They introduced me to Nirvana, Pearl Jam, Blur, Oasis, Matthew Sweet, The Church, Joy Division, Arcade Fire, Fatboy Slim, Moby, Spoon, and Snow Patrol, among others. If I could count on any radio station to avoid getting caught-up in the media frenzy, it would be EQX. When I broke my resolution and turned on EQX, they were playing Wilco. I felt relieved.

However, as soon as Wilco ended, the DJ came on and started talking about Michael Jackson. He blathered on all too politely, regarding Jackson as an artist and musician, diplomatically dismissing any other considerations. What really pissed me off was when he said that every artist since the 80s would cite Michael Jackson as an influence and voice their respect for him as an artist. Excuse me? Why can I not imagine Noel Gallagher doing that? Nor, for that matter, very many other 90s Alternative Rock musicians who wanted to break the corporate produced mold that Jackson not only represented, but was their biggest, bestselling product.

I turned off EQX and remained in a media blackout until Sunday night. While I doubt the media will drop this story any time soon, I am hoping that voicing my distaste for the coverage will encourage others to do the same and we can finally get back to talking about far more important current events, such as the Iranian election, climate change, and the faltering global economy.