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#Post#: 234--------------------------------------------------
The Misunderstood Power of Michael Jackson's Music
By: WomanInTheMirror Date: February 8, 2012, 10:36 pm
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More than two and a half years after his untimely death, Michael
Jackson continues to entertain. Cirque du Soleil's
crowd-pleasing Michael Jackson Immortal World Tour is currently
crisscrossing North America, while a recent Jackson-themed
episode of Glee earned the show a 16 percent jump in ratings and
its highest music sales of the season. Even Madonna's halftime
Super Bowl spectacle harkened back to a trend first initiated by
Jackson.
But there is another crucial part of Jackson's legacy that
deserves attention: his pioneering role as an African-American
artist working in an industry still plagued by segregation,
stereotypical representations, or little representation at all.
Jackson never made any qualms about his aspirations. He wanted
to be the best. When his highly successful Off the Wall album
(in 1981, the best-selling album ever by a black artist) was
slighted at the Grammy Awards, it only fueled Jackson's resolve
to create something better. His next album, Thriller, became the
best-selling album by any artist of any race in the history of
the music industry. It also won a record-setting seven Grammy
awards, broke down color barriers on radio and TV, and redefined
the possibilities of popular music on a global scale.
Yet among critics (predominantly white), skepticism and
suspicion only grew. "He will not swiftly be forgiven for having
turned so many tables," predicted James Baldwin in 1985, "for he
damn sure grabbed the brass ring, and the man who broke the bank
at Monte Carlo has nothing on Michael."
Baldwin proved prophetic. In addition to a flood of ridicule
regarding his intelligence, race, sexuality, appearance, and
behavior, even his success and ambition were used by critics as
evidence that he lacked artistic seriousness. Reviews frequently
described his work as "calculating," "slick," and "shallow."
Establishment rock critics such as Dave Marsh and Greil Marcus
notoriously dismissed Jackson as the first major popular music
phenomenon whose impact was more commercial than cultural. Elvis
Presley, the Beatles, and Bruce Springsteen, they claimed,
challenged and re-shaped society. Jackson simply sold records
and entertained.
It shouldn't be much of a strain to hear the racial undertones
in such an assertion. Historically, this dismissal of black
artists (and black styles) as somehow lacking substance, depth
and import is as old as America. It was the lie that constituted
minstrelsy. It was a common criticism of spirituals (in relation
to traditional hymns), of jazz in the '20s and '30s, of R&B in
the '50s and '60s, of funk and disco in the '70s, and of hip-hop
in the '80s and '90s (and still today). The cultural gatekeepers
not only failed to initially recognize the legitimacy of these
new musical styles and forms, they also tended to overlook or
reduce the achievements of the African-American men and women
who pioneered them. The King of Jazz, for white critics, wasn't
Louis Armstrong, it was Paul Whiteman; the King of Swing wasn't
Duke Ellington, it was Benny Goodman; the King of Rock wasn't
Chuck Berry or Little Richard, it was Elvis Presley.
Given this history of white coronation, it is worth considering
why the media took such issue with referring to Michael Jackson
as the King of Pop. Certainly his achievements merited such a
title. Yet up until his death in 2009, many journalists insisted
on referring to him as the "self-proclaimed King of Pop."
Indeed, in 2003, Rolling Stone went so far as to ridiculously
re-assign the title to Justin Timberlake. (To keep with the
historical pattern, just last year the magazine devised a
formula that coronated Eminem—over Run DMC, Public Enemy, Tupac,
Jay-Z, or Kanye West—as the King of Hip Hop).
Jackson was well-aware of this history and consistently pushed
against it. In 1979, Rolling Stone passed on a cover story about
the singer, saying that it didn't feel Jackson merited front
cover status. "I've been told over and over again that black
people on the covers of magazines don't sell copies," an
exasperated Jackson told confidantes. "Just wait. Some day those
magazines will come begging for an interview."
Jackson, of course, was right (Rolling Stone editor Jann Wenner
actually sent a self-deprecatory letter acknowledging the
oversight in 1984). And during the 1980s, at least, Jackson's
image seemed ubiquitous. Yet over the long haul, Jackson's
initial concern seems legitimate. As shown in the breakdown
below, his appearances on the front cover of Rolling Stone, the
United States' most visible music publication, are far fewer
than those of white artists:
John Lennon: 30
Mick Jagger: 29
Paul McCartney: 26
Bob Dylan: 22
Bono: 22
Bruce Springsteen: 22
Madonna: 20
Britney Spears: 13
Michael Jackson: 8 (two came after he died; one featured Paul
McCartney as well)
Is it really possible that Michael Jackson, arguably the most
influential artist of the 20th century, merited less than half
the coverage of Bono, Bruce Springsteen, and Madonna?
Of course, this disregard wasn't limited to magazine covers. It
extended into all realms of print media. In a 2002 speech in
Harlem, Jackson not only protested his own slights, but also
articulated how he fit into a lineage of African-American
artists struggling for respect:
All the forms of popular music from jazz to hip-hop, to bebop,
to soul [come from black innovation]. You talk about different
dances from the catwalk, to the jitterbug, to the charleston, to
break dancing -- all these are forms of black dancing...What
would [life] be without a song, without a dance, and joy and
laughter, and music. These things are very important but if you
go to the bookstore down the corner, you will not see one black
person on the cover. You'll see Elvis Presley, you'll see the
Rolling Stones...But we're the real pioneers who started these
[forms]."
While there was certainly some rhetorical flourish to his "not
one black person on the cover" claim, his broader point of
severely disproportionate representation in print was
unquestionably accurate. Books on Elvis Presley alone outnumber
titles on Chuck Berry, Aretha Franklin, James Brown, Ray
Charles, Marvin Gaye, Stevie Wonder, and Michael Jackson
combined.
When I began my book, Man in the Music: The Creative Life and
Work of Michael Jackson, in 2005, there wasn't one serious book
focused on Jackson's creative output. Indeed, at my local Barnes
& Noble, I could find only two books about him, period. Both
dealt with the scandals and controversies of his personal life.
It seemed the only way Michael Jackson could get covered was if
he was presented as a freak, a curiosity, a spectacle. Even
reviews of his albums, post-Thriller, focused on the sensational
and were overwhelmingly condescending, when not outright
hostile.
Of course, this poor coverage wasn't only about race. Biases
were often more subtle, veiled and coded. They were wrapped
together with his overall otherness and conflated with the
"Wacko Jacko" media construct. In addition, as Baldwin astutely
noted, there were not entirely unrelated apprehensions about his
wealth and fame, anxieties about his eccentricities and
sexuality, confusion about his changing appearance, contempt for
his childlike behavior, and fears about his power.
But the bottom line is this: Somehow, in the midst of the circus
that surrounded him, Jackson managed to leave behind one of the
most impressive catalogs in the history of music. Rarely has an
artist been so adept at communicating the vitality and
vulnerability of the human condition: the exhilaration,
yearning, despair, and transcendence. Indeed, in Jackson's case
he literally embodied the music. It charged through him like an
electric current. He mediated it through every means at his
disposal—his voice, his body, his dances, films, words,
technology and performances. His work was multi-media in a way
never before experienced.
This is why the tendency of many critics to judge his work
against circumscribed, often white, Euro-American musical
standards is such a mistake. Jackson never fit neatly into
categories and defied many of the expectations of
rock/alternative enthusiasts. He was rooted deeply in the
African-American tradition, which is crucial to understanding
his work. But the hallmark of his art is fusion, the ability to
stitch together disparate styles, genres and mediums to create
something entirely new.
If critics simply hold Jackson's lyrics on a sheet of paper next
to those of Bob Dylan, then, they will likely find Jackson on
the short end. It's not that Jackson's lyrics aren't substantive
(on the HIStory album alone, he tackles racism, materialism,
fame, corruption, media distortion, ecological destruction,
abuse, and alienation). But his greatness is in his ability to
augment his words vocally, visually, physically, and sonically,
so that the whole is greater than the sum of its parts.
Listen, for example, to his non-verbal vocalizations—the cries,
exclamations, grunts, gasps, and improvisatory vernacular—in
which Jackson communicates beyond the strictures of language.
Listen to his beat boxing and scatting; how he stretches or
accents words; his James Brown-like staccato facility; the way
his voice moves from gravelly to smooth to sublime; the
passionate calls and responses; the way he soars just as
naturally with gospel choirs and electric guitars.
Listen to his virtuosic rhythms and rich harmonies; the nuanced
syncopation and signature bass lines; the layers of detail and
archive of unusual sounds. Go beyond the usual classics, and
play songs like "Stranger in Moscow," "I Can't Help It ,"
"Liberian Girl ," "Who Is It," and "In the Back." Note the range
of subject matter, the spectrum of moods and textures, the
astounding variety (and synthesis) of styles. On the Dangerous
album alone, Jackson moves from New Jack Swing to classical, hip
hop to gospel, R&B to industrial, funk to rock. It was music
without borders or barriers, and it resonated across the globe.
However, it wasn't until Jackson's death in 2009 that he finally
began to engender more respect and appreciation from the
intelligentsia. It is one of humanity's strange habits to only
truly appreciate genius once it's gone. Still, in spite of the
renewed interest, the easy dismissals and disparity in serious
print coverage remains.
As a competitor on par with the legendary Muhammad Ali, Michael
Jackson wouldn't be satisfied. His goal was to prove that a
black artist could do everything a white artist could (and
more). He wanted to move beyond every boundary, earn every
recognition, break every record, and achieve artistic
immortality ("That is why to escape death," he said, "I bind my
soul to my work"). The point of his ambition wasn't money and
fame; it was respect.
As he boldly proclaimed in his 1991 hit, "Black or White," "I
had to tell them I ain't second to none."
Source:
HTML http://www.theatlantic.com/entertainment/archive/2012/02/the-misunderstood-power-of-michael-jacksons-music/252751/
#Post#: 237--------------------------------------------------
Re: The Misunderstood Power of Michael Jackson's Music
By: Admire Date: February 8, 2012, 11:50 pm
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Great article. Thanks for posting, WomanInTheMirror!
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