Today Michael Jackson turns 50 years old, and I think at this point it is safe to say he won’t be going on “The Jesus Juice Tour” and resurrecting his career any time soon. There was a time when I liked him as an artist, but never thought he was “The King of Pop”. Being deemed the King of Pop is like Skittles being the King of Bite Sized Candies. It’s debatable, and a meaningless title anyway. (For the record, if there has to be a King of Bite Sized Candies, it’s M & M’s.)
Then, he got freakishly weird, and began to put out dated, unimaginative music, sometimes with lyrics about stuff he knew nothing about, like passionate love for a woman, but a lot of times he just wanted everyone to “stop bothering him,” and “leave him alone.” By that time, I was much more fascinated by his lawsuits and the bizarre, self-created de-evolution of his face.
He’s been dead for a few years now. Not really dead, in the way Amy Winehouse will probably end up, but dead to the media, dead in the music world. I kind of miss that, but what I miss more is watching him do what he did best for a time.
The transformation of Michael Jackson’s face