Michael Jackson memories

I saw a cover band last weekend at a little place in Fresno, and that band played “Free Bird.” It always does.

It went over well, because it’s a classic and people know it. I always get sort of a melancholy feeling when I hear it. (“If I leave here tomorrow, would you still remember me?”) I mean, I think he really wants to stay with the girl. I think a lot of times people use the whole, “Oh, I’m a free spirit, I was born to run” stuff to let someone down easy, or escape a relationship that isn’t working, but I really think he loves her. He’s tortured by the fact that he can’t change. He’s singing about it, and that’s got to mean something, right? I could be over-analyzing.

Anyway, “Free Bird” has a good solo and this band I’m going to see has a teenage guitar player* who will be famous some day. I’m sure of it, and I’m not sure of much. Maybe he already has been famous and is on his way down. I’m not even sure about that. They will play “Free Bird” and this kid will absolutely destroy the solo and life will be good. But the song also brings me to a couple thoughts about Michael Jackson. You of course know that Michael Jackson died last week, sort of an odd and mysterious death at age 50, and really, what else would anyone have expected from the man’s death besides odd and mysterious?

*The guitar player’s name is “Blaze,” and he’s 15 years old. I really don’t know too much about him other than he’s really nice and smiles a lot. I’ve met him and his mother a couple times. I know they lived in Hollywood for a while and he played guitar in a kid band called Blaze N Young Guns. They live in Fresno now and Blaze is homeschooled. I will let a couple Youtube clips speak to his playing ability.

The first one is recent, Blaze on a local morning show. As a public service announcement, I can’t emphasize enough how lame local TV is. Don’t watch it. Read a newspaper.

And Blaze at age 14 …

And Blaze at age 12 …

The point I was getting to before I got distracted by Blaze was that people roll their eyes at “Free Bird.” They don’t storm out of the room in anger, but it’s a go-to-the-bar-for-a-drink kind of song. Same with “Stairway to Heaven” and “Bohemian Rhapsody” and “Sweet Home Alabama” and 30 other songs that we’ve heard so many times that we’ve become numb to them.  Occasionally I enjoy some Creedence Clearwater Revival, but I couldn’t help but laugh during the most recent Die Hard movie when “Fortunate Son” comes on the radio and Justin Long says to Bruce Willis, “It’s old. That doesn’t make it classic.” Or something like that. I’m paraphrasing.

But “Thriller” never got old. It never got cliche. The song or album. When they play songs from it on TV commercials it isn’t hokie. I could put that album on my record player right now and listen to it from beginning to end and never even think about moving, even though I’ve heard it 100 times. It has everything, driving beats and funk, soft ballads, screaming electric organs. And in honor of the great Dave Barry, wouldn’t the “Screaming Electric Organs” be a good name for a rock band? It is simply the No. 1 selling album of all time, not that being uber-popular guarantees immortality. How do people see “Titanic” now? How will they feel about “Transformers: Revenge of the Fallen” in a decade, even though it’s inevitably going to make $400 million? A lot of things seemed like a good idea at the time: Disco outfits, New Kids on the Block, Billy Ray Cyrus, Vanilla Ice, Bette Midler’s “Wind Beneath My Wings.” You get the point. It’s a lot tougher to create something legendary than it is to take advantage of the fad of the moment.

Michael Jackson’s early stuff had it all, the hype, the innovation, the substance. His talent was undeniable. It is no wonder his music continues to thrive. Jackson believed he had a gift from God and it was his duty to share it with the world. And when you look back at those clips of him singing with the Jackson 5, how could you argue? He was a prodigy. He was a little kid with a big afro singing about adult love …

Tryin’ to live without your love, is one long sleepless night.

Let me show you girl, that I know wrong from right.

Not words you expect to hear from an 11-year-old. It’s easy to forget about those years because of the molestation accusations and the allergy mask and the dangling baby and the shrinking nose and the 100 other strange things that became Michael Jackson in the later years. Whatever it was that Michael morphed into.  But he was, well, he was once-in-a-lifetime. I’ve thought about that while listening to Blaze play guitar and I wonder how much being famous and talented had to do with Jackson becoming the circus side show, sleeping in beds with children, building his own fantasy park, believing he was Peter Pan. He didn’t want to grow old and in a lot of ways he didn’t. Fifty is too young to die.

Certainly other factors played into Jackson’s life, that whole nature versus nurture debate, not to mention his dad’s constant pushing and alleged abuse. But it also seems pretty obvious that child stars are inevitably going to have issues. Obviously, adults have problems handling fame and cash windfalls, so how could it not be worse for a child? Blaze will be fine, I’m sure. I hope. Watching a restaurant full of people stare at this 15-year-old kid rip through some incredibly tough and famous solos, you had to wonder what it must have been like for young Michael, to have the world watching.

I have to believe it was far easier and tougher than the rest of us can imagine.