When I was a dorky kid in the 80's, I didn't really listen to a lot of popular music. There are many reasons for this, foremost among them that there was no one at home who had any interest in such things. Still, there were of course plenty of songs and artists who were inescapable in the culture. Only a handful of these were truly worth listening to, and almost none of them could claim the mantle of genius.
But Michael Jackson was different. He was a genius, a true king of pop, if not the only king. He didn't do it alone - we wouldn't have the brilliance of Off the Wall and the perfection of Thriller without Quincy Jones, for example - but it was his music, his words, his sound, his moves, his glove.
In spite of everything that happened since - as MJ got crazier and crazier and creepier and creepier, though I still don't believe he actually touched those kids - we have Thriller, the ultimate, get-off-your-hipster-ass dance album, a desert island disc for all time, and so much more. He gave us the greatest gift of all, an eternity of booty-shaking, pure pop joy. I dare you, put on Thriller and try not to move.
I, for one, am damn sorry you're gone, Mike. For all your insanity, the planet is poorer tonight. Thanks for the jams, baby!
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