7
ways Michael Jackson changed the world
His legacy
is as enduring as it is multi-faceted.
1. Sound
When America
first met Jackson, he was a lovable, pint-sized pre-teen with a
puffy Afro and an electric voice.
Through the 1970s, 1980s and early 1990s, Jackson held onto the
earnestness he had as the front man of the Jackson Five. Back
then, it was impossible to hate Jackson. He was just so likable.
When he sang "We are the ones who make a brighter day / So
let's start giving" in "We Are the World," you
believed him.
As for the music? Pop, rock, disco, jazz - Jackson's tunes had a
little bit of everything, all swirled together and peppered with
plenty of high-pitched shrieks, squeals and "Hee-hees."
His death leaves many questions, not the least of them being
what, exactly, does "Shamone" mean?
Pop stars like the Spice
Girls and Pussycat Dolls can sell millions of albums but
never be taken seriously for their music. Not so for Jackson.
His albums - Thriller especially - were
embraced by fans and critics alike. He didn't just have 13 No. 1
singles; he had 13 Grammys, too.
2. Dance
No one moved
like Michael Jackson. But everyone wanted to.
Music might have made him a star, but from the blunt sexuality
of the crotch grabs, to the laser-sharp spins, snaps and pivots,
to the mesmerizing group choreography spotlighted in his videos,
to, of course, the otherworldly impossibility that was his
moonwalk, dance launched Jackson into the stratosphere.
He might not have invented the moonwalk, but he might as well
have. When the world watched him gliding like that for the first
time, black loafers moving across the stage with liquid
smoothness during a televised Motown Music special in 1983, no
one had ever seen anything like it.
How many teenagers spent how many hours dragging their stocking
feet across carpeted bedroom floors, trying to master that
illusion but remaining, alas, hopelessly earthbound?
3. Fashion
The single,
white, sequined glove. The red leather jacket with so many
zippers. The pegged pants. The fedora. The bedazzled military
coats.
Like everything Jackson, his look was a precise exercise
straddling desirability and eccentricity.
Everybody wanted that leather jacket he wore in the Beat
It video, but who, save Jackson, could pull off a
solitary, spangled glove?
The Jheri curls? Maybe not. The mirrored sunglasses? Definitely.
He outfitted himself to show off his moves. Black shoes with
glittering white socks? He knew no one could ignore feet turned
out like that.
In regal coats with epaulets and rhinestone regalia, he was the
King of Pop who dressed for the job.
4. Videos
When Jackson's
full-length Thriller video was set to
debut following an orgy of hype on MTV in late 1983, people
wrote it on their calendars. They stayed home just to see it.
The most expensive video ever made at the time, it was
essentially a cinematic experience, a nearly 15-minute long
mini-movie, a happening.
Unlike many artists who phone in videos with concert footage or
pack them full of scantily clad models, Jackson used his MTV
time to tell stories (as in Thriller and Smooth
Criminal), push the boundaries of special effects (as in Billie
Jean), produce full, Broadway-choreography (as in Beat
It).
He single-handedly fortified the fledgling music television
channel and turned the music video into an art form.
5. Influence
Like Elvis and Bob
Dylan before him, Jackson reshaped pop culture in ways that
are hard to comprehend. Jackson influenced just about every
musician who came after him in one way or another. He was
unavoidable
6.
Celebrity
This week as the
world mourned Jackson, a CNN
commenter wondered if there has ever been anyone on the planet
with a more recognized name.
Maybe not.
He was a superstar, but a superstar whose eccentricities drove
one tabloid headline after another. His marriages. His monkey.
His plastic surgeries. The molestation trial.
For a generation, Jackson was an ever-present media image,
selling millions of records, launching millions of rumors.
Byrd was hoping that Jackson's planned comeback tour would turn
the spotlight away from the freak show and back to the artistry.
"I was praying even that Michael was going to return to the
Michael we know and love," he said, "and the music
that was the soundtrack to our lives."
7. Race
Before Billie
Jean, MTV hadn't played a black artist. They weren't
"rock" enough, the channel's executives said.
But as Thriller became the top-selling
album of all-time, and its corresponding videos all but made
MTV, Jackson soundly broke that color barrier.
Jackson's appeal became near-universal, a sound as inescapable
on white suburban boomboxes as it was in urban dance clubs.
Still, the idea of racial harmony played out throughout
Jackson's career. He teamed with Paul
McCartney in the 1980s for the singles "Say, Say,
Say" and "The Girl is Mine," and years later,
even as his own blackness seemed to be literally fading away as
his skin tone became ever lighter, he sang: "If you're
thinking about my baby it don't matter if you're black or
white."
"His catalog revolves around love, around African-American
pride and around uplifting all people," says Eric Byrd, a
music lecturer at McDaniel College. "He was trying to tell
people we can do better as a human family."
Baltimore Sun reporter Sam Sessa contributed to
this article.
|
The Funeral
The Obituary
Memorial
Book
|
