Monday, 6th July 2009.

He's not the Messiah, he's a very naughty boy

It's funny how much your emotional state can change in a single stretch of highway. At just after 8:25 a.m. I was bombing down the road to the business park, as a gospel choir bellowed “What about us?” at full volume. By the time I slowed down for the curve that takes you to the roundabout, Michael was Screaming, and I was in tears.

‘Earth Song’ is one of those songs that, like ‘Umbrella’ and ‘My Life’ before it, I appear to have hated for years without really knowing why. I’ve discussed the concept of the musical epiphany before and have no particular desire to retread old ground, but suffice to say that in this instance the moment was probably linked with the song’s final detachment from its accompanying video. I’m one of those people who grew up with MTV, or at least its British equivalent: by the time I came of age musically the video had reached an art form, which was at least partially thanks to Guns ‘N’ Roses and their overblown concept films for ‘November Rain’ and ‘Don’t Cry’. We watched Slash turn away from Axl’s wedding and slouch off out the church, before strumming his guitar in the middle of a windswept desert, and we decided that in a few years time it would be remembered as iconic.

But it was Michael Jackson who’d paved the way for such cinematic indulgence back in the 1980s, whether it was turning into a badly animated werewolf (‘Thriller’), enacting sado-masochistic leather fetish fantasies with Wesley Snipes (‘Bad’) or re-enacting West Side Story (‘Beat It’). In November 1991, British parents settled down with their children to watch the eleven-minute premiere of Jackson’s new video, ‘Black Or White’, and spent the remainder of that week’s Top of the Pops wriggling and squirming in their seats, anxious and uncomfortable on a number of levels. For one things, there’s the apparent hypocrisy of the lyrics, which discuss the notion of racial equality – this from a man who had apparently spent years showing the rest of the world that it damn well does matter whether you’re black or white. (Jackson claims it on a skin complaint, which is a commendable excuse but also complete bollocks. My aunt suffers from the same condition, and it isn’t all over: it’s patchy. If he’d wanted to change things to match, and if race really wasn’t an issue to him, why did he have the rest of his skin lightened, rather than the appropriate patches darkened? Mind you, we’re also expected to believe that he never had his nose done.)

Then there was the masturbation. You can call it the “interpretation of the animal instinct of a black panther” if you really want to – Jackson apparently did – but the moment when he unzips his fly and rubs himself suggestively before re-zipping really doesn’t leave a great deal to the imagination. Parents also objected to the seemingly random acts of destruction and violence that saw Jackson destroy the roof of a car and several windows with some conveniently placed rubbish bins. This was, in fact, a stance on racism, given that the windows were digitally emblazoned with racist graffiti (‘KKK Rules’ and ‘No More Wetbacks’ among them) – but let’s be honest, who noticed that? We were all too busy watching Michael jerking off.

Personally, I’m of the conviction that the full length video – whilst undoubtedly indulgent and overblown – is something of a miniature masterpiece, encompassing as it does all manner of cultures, albeit in a mildly stereotypical vein (ooh, Cossacks! Bollywood! African natives hunting a lion!) It also contains some of the best dancing that Jackson ever committed to film: whatever your ethical hang-ups about the panther sequence, the showmanship and pace of that segment is absolutely incredible, building to a frenetic climax (again, on a number of levels). Even so, it’s not something you’d want to watch with children, who would presumably ask all number of embarrassing questions, like “What’s he doing now, Daddy?”. It should be no surprise to you that when I showed ‘Black or White’ to my sons yesterday morning, we decided to gloss over that chapter.

Jackson was always at his best when he was singing, dancing or doing anything that didn’t require him having to act. The acting was atrocious. Moonwalker was perhaps the most obvious example – that’s a whole entry in itself, and one that I’m not going to write today – but shades of his inability to deliver dialogue can be seen in ‘Thriller’, and to a greater extent in the eighteen-minute version of ‘Bad’, in which Martin Scorsese delivers a gritty New York ‘hood, full of rumbling subways and cold evenings spent huddled around oil drum fires. Jackson’s protagonist fails to connect with the homeboys he left behind when he was sent (presumably on a scholarship) to a posh public school, but the stilted, uncomfortable atmosphere has less to do with the cultural chasm that has come between them, and more to do with the fact that Michael really doesn’t know what he’s doing in these earlier segments. It’s only when the song itself begins that the panther is truly let out of the bag, as the film leaps to colour and the King of Pop relaxes in the role with which he is evidently most familiar: energetic, angst-ridden dancing.

Reams have been written about these earlier videos, and I didn’t want to turn this into a review paper, so let’s get back to ‘Earth Song’. It was just as I was pulling into the office car park, as we were told to “Stop pressuring me / Stop fucking with me” (dear God, did Michael Jackson just swear?) that I realised the connection between my erstwhile hatred of the song and its accompanying visuals. Because the problem is that ‘Earth Song’ happens to be a terrific number that’s saddled with a rotten video: the one where Jackson seemed to be have finally given in to his own hype. Images of a dead and decaying earth and war-torn Eastern Europe are followed by Michael’s miraculous (not to mention ludicrous) healing ceremony, in which he grasps the trunks of the tallest trees in the forest and manages to reverse time in a manner not seen since Superman flew around the world backwards in 1978.

If the video was bad enough, the 1996 Brit Award performance was even worse, and the cause of an argument I had online last week. You remember the story. Jackson was due to receive an ‘Artist of a Generation’ award, and his P.R. people had given a ridiculous, sycophantically fawning speech for Bob Geldof to read before introducing him, and with which Geldof was clearly uncomfortable. Earlier in the evening, (or perhaps later, I can never remember), Jackson appeared onstage performing ‘Earth Song’. So preposterous was the setup and execution that Jarvis Cocker, who’d presumably enjoyed the complimentary champagne, got up on stage and stuck his (thankfully clothed) rear end in Jackson’s direction, before being removed from the scene by security. Cue much tabloid scandal (although the gutterpress did, at least, eventually admit that they’d backed the wrong horse) as disgruntled parents announced that the Pulp lout had “ruined the occasion” for the stage school brats who took part.

Let’s leave aside the obvious ethical inconsistencies of complaining about the behaviour of a Sheffield socialist when you have allowed Michael Jackson to babysit your children, and actually think about this. Because over a decade later it’s clear that the memory hasn’t abated – as I discovered just a few days ago when a new thread was started on the Sun discussion forums, criticising the presence of Cocker on Question Time. It was an invitation, according to the thread’s originator (who will remain anonymous simply because he’s a semi-literate idiot who I don’t want to humiliate), that took place “simply because of what he done to Jackson”. Never mind the fact that he was invited before Jackson’s passing – it was a blatant publicity stunt and the BBC should be ashamed of themselves.

Mr X also took issue with Jarvis’ atheism in the light of his disapproval of Jackson’s Messiah complex, which he saw as a contradiction in terms: “Let me get this straight; you’re not religious but you took offence to this – or was it more to do with the fact Jackson’s music has more of an impact on people’s lives than yours? The majority of his answers proved he is just a …..COMMON PEOPLE.”

I’ve cleaned up the spelling and grammar; it really was appalling. I have no problem arguing with people who can’t spell, because literacy does not go hand in hand with intelligence. (Hence the joke about not hiring a dyslexic dwarf, because it’s not big and it’s not clever, really isn’t funny.) I do have a problem arguing with people who apparently have their own agenda and who won’t listen to reason. I should have known that this would go nowhere, but of course I waded in, pointing out that “Lack of a belief in God doesn’t necessarily mean that you have to be OK with someone who is clearly in possession of a Messiah complex – which Jackson was that night…the Brit performance and the fiasco that surrounded it was an utterly revolting spectacle, and Jarvis’ very open display of contempt merely echoed the thoughts and feelings of a good number of the audience and the viewing public.“

“Although I agree with what you say,” came the response, “I’ve seen the Jackson performance and he was not trying to be God. Jackson was just an easy target and if he has a problem with that then I’m sure Kanye West is more of a threat to him because he calls himself the black Jesus, and rapper Nas calls himself God’s son.”

“Context is everything,” I replied. “I’m sure that Jarvis will take up any particular gripes with Kanye West. As for Nas, well, those who believe in God sometimes claim to be children of God. Not necessarily the same as calling yourself Jesus. It depends, though; does he refer to himself as God’s son, or the son of God? The first is OK, but the use of ‘the’ implies setting yourself apart for divinity.”

Part of me wondered whether this chap perhaps had a better recollection of the Brit performance than I did, so I went back and watched it again. And all my worst fears came to light, in a heartbeat. It is simply excruciating. There’s the outstretched arms Jesus-on-the-cross pose, for one thing. Then there are the war-torn refugee children, who appear to be actively turning to worship Jackson as he rises into the air on that crane, as if pleading with him to save them or heal them. This is best viewed in the context of the aforementioned video, in which – as we discussed – he appears to restore the Earth to its former glory by stomping on the ground.

Here’s the best bit. First he strolls down the ramp touching the outstretched limbs of the suffering children as he passes. And then he pulls off his coat and stands there in the middle of the stage, clad entirely in white, arms once more outstretched, as the miraculously healed children appear stage left and right dressed in brightly clad garments, to embrace him. He kisses the head of a rabbi. Seriously, how could you watch this and not get the idea he was setting himself up as some sort of Messiah? What’s ironic is that this overt display of Messianic tendencies occurred after Jarvis’ stage protest. Whether he knew what was coming was anyone’s guess, but even if he was a little premature at rushing on, his anger turned out to be quite justified.

If it sounds like I’m setting Mr X up for a fall, it’s largely because his views appear to be fairly commonplace. The comments on YouTube are often far more entertaining than the videos themselves, and some of the Brit award remarks are a riot. The thread in which we were discussing Jackson seemed to grind to something of a halt after my last comment (although I’m sure it’s not because I won the argument but simply because people got bored), but not before another user expressed her conviction that “it was Jarvis that had the Jesus complex flaming going up there on stage and deliberately interrupting Michael’s well rehearsed stage act and music…How totally dare he do that…Who did he think he was…arrogant pathetic guy.”

But here’s the bottom (no pun intended) line:

a) It was thirteen years ago
b) Jarvis was in any case probably drunk, and
c) He’s already said he regrets his actions.

The protest didn’t hurt Jackson’s career, Jarvis’ reputation or any of the children involved (despite what the press said). It was just a bit of rock ‘n’ roll social commentary, the sort of behaviour for which the Brit awards is renowned (look it up). Perhaps it’s time we moved on.

So: Jackson-as-Christ, then. The song itself contains echoes of this, but the video is ‘Earth Song’ amplified: implying, as it does, that the best way to save the world is to leave it to Michael Jackson. It’s a far cry from the sentiment expressed in ‘Man In The Mirror’, which does at least suggest, as the hot dog vendor told the disgruntled Hare Krishna who’d just given him a fiver, that change must come from within. Instead, Michael is now Saint Michael, a notion popularised by a small minority of fanatics who believed that Jackson was the living embodiment of the archangel, who, according to the book of Daniel, was “the great prince who protects your people”.

The pomposity and sincerity in Jackson’s vocal performance is on a par with that of Bono, who was mocked by the Edge during the recording of ‘Pride’ when he appeared to be taking things a little too seriously. Jackson himself has been a target for satire on many occasions, but one of the more memorable turns was an episode of Britain’s Got Talent, when he was ridiculed by a stuffed monkey. For all that, the song itself is immaculately produced, building from a slow and tinkly piano introduction into a swelling call-and-response coda that seems to go on for eons but which never seems to become dull.

It’s unfortunate, when viewed musically, that the video for ‘Earth Song’ – and the media furore that surrounded the Brits – has become something of a Marley’s chain, at least in the UK. It happens occasionally: the song gets so entangled with its video, or some other aspect (as in the ‘legendary’ live performances that are sometimes remembered for all the wrong reasons) that the two art forms – music and video – and seemingly permanently fused. It happened to ‘Hello’, which, to anyone who’s seen the video, is always going to be about a creepy middle-aged stalker relentlessly pursuing a blind girl, who has her revenge by sculpting a large monkey, proclaiming “This is how I see you”. If it can happen to Lionel Richie, it can happen to Michael Jackson, and it happened to ‘Earth Song’. Free of the shackles and constraints of the video, it’s a masterpiece, one that caused everyone in their cars to throw open the windows and turn the volume up to eleven when it was played on Radio One the day after Jackson had died. Perhaps that’s how we ought to remember it, although if the antics of my friends online are anything to go by, I somehow doubt that we will.