The M Icon: My Story

Majestic showman. Fashion icon. Artistic innovator. Affable humanitarian. My reflections on the death of Michael Jackson, musical genius and theatrical pioneer. This will undoubtedly be my most personal entry to date and its contents may surprise those of you who've assumed all along that this blog deemed Mozart as my one and only man in music. Michael, in fact, represents my musical advent. He was a significant part of my early artistic life, instilling in my childhood compass the righteous marriage of music, drama and ideas. He redefined the popular music genre with the deliverance of autobiographical sentiment, sophistication and intelligent craftsmanship, adding new dimensions of depth and creativity. His vocabulary of dance was limitless. He revolutionized the music video and made it an art form. His choreography and dramatic staging concepts combined with cutting edge technology changed concert culture and performance art forever. His artistic and fashionable avidity shall never be met by the talent and fervor of any other individual.

Indeed, there are two significant silhouettes in my musical life, and the word “silhouette” describes each figure, perfectly. Michael and Mozart. Lives in profile. Divinity in motion. They gave everything of themselves to ensure that the world would always enjoy a contented existence in music, their music. From one cherubic prodigy to another, my love of music was born. From one dramatist to another, my understanding and passion for musical theater evolved, and is still evolving. The charisma and exuberance that radiates from their music gives me strength, hope and purpose. Their characters are rich and full, their similarities, striking. (Reference my entry Michael and Mozart: A Corresponding Virtuosity)

Musicology focuses so much on Mozart's premature death and the unwritten compositions which are forever lost to us. With Michael's early departure, we face this loss now, in our own lifetime, not just in the pages of history. I dearly love these two spires of musical ingenuity and this historical recurrence is almost too much to endure, but I must celebrate and carry these legacies forward with love and honor. This tribute video beautifully combines Mozart's Lacrimosa from his unfinished Requiem mass with Michael's resounding imagery.

Michael reminded me of myself in many ways; extroverted artistically and introverted socially with a sometimes inhibiting shyness, yet embodying an astonishing sense of independence and mission. Michael was my first crush and consequently, my first "boyfriend." I ignored the fact that he was courting the imaginations of millions of other girls worldwide! My twin sister Sheryl and I owned albums, dolls, shirts, jackets, even a phonograph with the picture of Michael looking handsome in his yellow vest and bow tie. I remember receiving only these signature gifts for many birthdays and Christmas seasons in the 1980s, a wonderful period in my life. We knew his signature moves and attempted to emulate them through our impromptu performances in the family living room.

We visited the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame where I saw Michael's costume from the Bad short film, a staunch favorite that was directed by Martin Scorsese. I love that he conquers an impending violent confrontation with the use of ballet, aggressive swagger and clever lyricism ("You're throwing stones to hide your hands") while donning his belted bravado (Sheryl just LOVES to tease me about this!). He was merely 30 years old when the Bad era delivered him to the stars. The Pepsi commercial from this period was so magical to my childhood eyes. I wanted to see it during every commercial break. I was certain there was a piece of divinity in his cameo, when he asked, "Lookin' for me?" with the most beautiful smile I'd ever seen. Sharing Michael's music with my sister over the years has been a very special and extraordinary gift. I can't remember exactly when we became fans, but our memorabilia dates back to age five. Our father was born in Rensselaer, Indiana, so of course the distance to Michael's childhood home in Gary, Indiana has been calculated. To be exact? Only 52 miles!

Michael's intense affinity for classical music drew me closer to his artistry. I could feel the influence in his work. It also had a tangibility. In interviews, he constantly referenced his love for this genre, mentioning Mozart, Debussy and Tchaikovsky. This photo of Michael playing his Bösendorfer piano is one of my favorites. He was very much like Mozart in that there were two levels to his artistry: the popular recognition and a lesser known perspicacious capacity. When Michael died in June, it was revealed that he was working on an album of classical music. It was surprising to the majority, but certainly not to me. It made sense. This was Michael. He shared the stage with Luciano Pavarotti and The Three Tenors for a benefit concert in Modena in 1999. I didn't have the opportunity to meet Michael in person, but I saw The Three Tenors in concert and also met Placido Domingo during my apprenticeship with the Washington National Opera last spring, so this is my operatic connection, so to speak!

In regards to opera, Michael's unique fame and voice have been compared to the famous castrati (male sopranos) of a bygone era. Maestro Riccardo Muti was quoted recently about this connection. "He is without a doubt one of the most legendary, controversial (and beloved) singers of all time... His controversial story, his weaknesses, the extreme restlessness and his exhausted last days remind me of the lives of the great castrati like Caffarelli or Farinelli, who became objects of adoration and idolatry. And they often became victims of this adoration."

With this connection in mind, I was vying to hear Michael interpret his own version of the lamenting aria Lascia ch'io pianga from Händel's opera, Rinaldo. Imagine! Its soaring melodic consciousness and dramatic intention suits Michael's maligned life incredibly well, focusing on liberation of the individual. "Let me weep over my cruel fate and sigh for my lost freedom. May the pain shatter the chains of my torment with mercy."

Andrew Lloyd Webber recently disclosed that Michael had approached him in the 1980s, after the stage premiere of The Phantom of the Opera, about possibly taking on the title role himself in a movie version. This is hardly surprising, given his love of musical theater, the genre used to showcase his talent for the first time at age five with Climb Every Mountain from The Sound of Music in a school talent show. In his article from London's Telegraph on 27 June, Webber brings to light Michael's genius from a theatrical perspective which I find incredibly fascinating, for it reveals his core artistic being. "The story got to him. I think he had a connection with the lonely, tortured musician. He found the idea of somebody working through music and having a girl as a muse very intriguing – and he loved that there was illusion in the show. Of course, he was a great showman himself, but he found the whole stagecraft of musicals extraordinary."

A lack of good timing kept my sister and I from the concert experience. Michael's Bad tour (1987-1989) was his last in the United States and we were far too young for our parents to allow us to attend such tumultuous concert affairs in Europe in the 1990s! We just missed him in New York in 2001. On 7 and 10 September, Michael had given two concerts at Madison Square Garden to celebrate the 30th anniversary of his solo career. We were so thankful that it was televised on CBS! Click here to see his stellar performance of Billie Jean! We were in the city just a few weeks later with our collegiate marching band on 29 September to perform for a New York Giants football game. On 7 November, Michael made an appearance at the Virgin Megastore in Times Square to promote what would be his final album, Invincible. Afterwards, he retreated into social and musical exile.

However, over this past year, Sheryl and I remained excited and hopeful about Jackson 5 reunion rumors which surfaced now and again. And when Michael held a press conference in London for his This is It tour in March, we were over the moon. This was our chance to finally see the artist we had admired from just beyond toddlerhood, but fate would not hear of it. Tragedy struck in June. A part of my childhood, my own musical history, died with him. Don McLean's "The Day the Music Died" will never sound the same again. Denial, anger, countless tears. I had just returned from Prague a week prior and had thought about Michael in the Bohemian capital upon seeing Madonna's tour posters everywhere. Michael will soon be on the scene again, I thought, and he's going to be bigger than ever. The reality of this loss was painstakingly dark, especially as I watched his haunting rehearsal footage over and over again, which displayed his ever powerful voice and unparalleled command of dance. A singer's vocal prime is roughly between the ages of 35 and 50, so Michael still had his legendary sound. Perhaps the most chilling aspect revealed in this footage was the lyrical content from the song itself, They Don't Really Care About Us.

Sheryl and I entered the lottery for tickets to the memorial service at the Staples Center in Los Angeles, but our names weren't chosen, so we watched the coverage on television all day, wore commemorative t-shirts and even designed a cake for the occasion. Although we weren't able to attend this significant event, Sheryl and I are incredibly excited to have tickets to the Tribute 2009 concert event in Vienna on 26 September! The Austrian capital was chosen because Michael cherished this city for its musical history and Hapsburg imperialism. Mozart spent his greatest years here. The tribute event will be staged at the Hapsburg summer residence Schloss Schönbrunn where Mozart famously performed for the young Marie Antoinette. I've been to the palace twice for tours and classical concerts, and to Vienna generally to pursue Mozartian history, but I never would have guessed I'd be visiting the city to celebrate the artist I've known since childhood, the artist who first opened my heart and mind to the musical spheres. It's estimated that the televised tribute will reach an audience of one billion.

I've learned an abundance from Michael's artistry. Where do I begin? It would take far too long to write on this topic, so I'll attempt to summarize! His musical benevolence has greatly inspired my own love of sharing music with others and volunteering my time and resources towards musical outreach activities. Michael used his musical gifts for philanthropy, supporting over 30 charities with more than $300 million dollars, surpassing any other celebrity in history.

Internalizing Michael's poignant voice at such an early age led to my development of a preference for the high-attuned male voice across several genres. For example, my affection for Mozart's tenor arias is far greater than those belonging to the female characters of his operas and scenas. I love material written originally for castrati (male sopranos), now performed by countertenors and mezzo-sopranos. I associate Michael's higher register and physical virtuosity with the melisma and athleticism of the Baroque voice. Michael's extravagant sets, costumes and employed classicism corroborate opera's ideal. One of my favorites by Händel is Doppo Notte from the opera, Ariodante. Mozart originally wrote the motet Exsultate Jubilate for Venanzio Rauzzini, a male soprano who had performed in his opera Lucio Silla in 1772, but this piece is mainly performed by women today.

In terms of popular music, I'm taken by the expressive tenor voices of Doo-Wop, Rock and Soul from the 1950s and 1960s. As a teenager, I was the proud owner of Time Life's Dick Clark collection and along with my sister and friends, simulated a session of American Bandstand for our school's drama club. Frankie Lymon's Why Do Fools Fall in Love is certainly on my A-list! And never to be forgotten from this period is 10 year old Michael's Who's Lovin' You from 1969. Every song is remarkable from his early years, but this song, in its singularity, shows his genius quite radiantly. As Berry Gordy said, "He sang it with the sadness and passion of a man who'd been living the blues and heartbreak his whole life." In terms of more recent popular music, the voice of Savage Garden's lead singer Darren Hayes caught my attention in the 1990s with the song I Knew I Loved You.

The above image is from Michael's 2007 photo shoot with Ebony magazine in celebration of the 25th anniversary of his immortal album, Thriller. This is one of my favorite images of Michael, not simply because he's stunning and dapper in his top hat, but because I believe it readily portrays him as he wanted to be perceived and accepted: as a serious artist with classical sentiment, notwithstanding his signature edge and attitude with modernity's style and finesse. This is certainly how I'll remember him. I started drafting this entry on 6 July, but I've not had the time or energy to finish it until now. And I can't think of a better way to end this account, further capturing my sentiment, than disclosing a poem I wrote in honor of Michael's legacy, recalling my fondest memories. It's simply entitled, Michael Jackson: Memory. This tribute photo accompanies my poetic meloncholia and reflects my love of the Bad era.

Silhouette in adorning fashion. Love. Humility. Flash of contour, flash of light. Gains of a thousand words. Faintly come distant, shining bright. / Cherubic prodigy. Gentleman artisan. Blanketed in stunning, amplified blessing. Darkest eyes of benevolence and mysterious splendor. Consummate love expressing. / Precision. Pathos. A generous embrace. Lyrical sentiment, oh gentle lyre. Relentless genius. Truthful existence. Virtuous imagination, fantasy and fire. / Dramatic innovation, humanistic connotation. Unbreakable line. Promenade of recognition, through barriers risen. Protagonist of music and ideas. Divine. / Ethereal vibrato. All-encompassing bravado. Childhood memory and jest. Tender innocence, soulful smiles and abiding laughter. God be praised, we were blessed.

Sherry