Michael Jackson and For Everyone We Miss

I love Motown. I love its singers. I love its stories. And, yes, I love its music. During my growing-up-years in London, I was ‘inspired’ by the success of three girls from the Brewster Projects who became the Supremes. I ‘learned’ about life’s possibilities when Diana Ross told the world that there was “ain’t no mountain high enough”. And when I went into the Royal Academy of Music as a very precocious 12 year-old pianist, I ‘hoped’ that it would teach to become not Mozart…but Marvin, Smokey and Stevie.

I talked about all this in my blog when the American record label celebrated its 50^th birthday at the beginning of this year. But, never could I have imagined that someone else I wrote about ‘then’ would not be with us ‘now’. Before there was the King of Pop, there was simply Michael Jackson—an ordinary name for a great-looking kid with an even greater-sounding voice who sang, danced and loved his way into our homes.

You know the rest of the story. And you probably watched his memorial service in Los Angeles. His daughter’s few words at the end were heart-breaking but, seeing how she was surrounded by family and how, out of an instinct for protectiveness, they brought her quickly off stage, it shows that she has good people to help her through the moments and months ahead.

It was great when the Reverend Al Sharpton explained that it wasn’t her father who was strange, rather it was what he had to deal with in life that was so. You could never understand what it feels like to be in the public eye. To be celebrated, yes. But also to be judged. And the worse feeling? To not be a disappointment to the many people who think you're great on-camera and expect you to be even more so off it. Credit also to Sheila Jackson-Lee who mentioned his work in fighting HIV/AIDS at a time when it wasn’t 'fashionable' to do so.

Of his other legacies, his music will stand on its own... as it’s too, too good not to. My favorite album is still ‘Off The Wall’ from the title track to ‘Don’t Stop’ to ‘Burn This Disco’ to ‘I Can’t Help It’. I met producer Quincy Jones at my friend’s house a few years ago and though we sat on the sofa talking (during which Naomi Campbell called him on the phone), I didn't ask him about Michael Jackson. Why? Because I, too, would appreciate someone who didn't always ask me about my work.

The memorial service today was sad. But it was overwhelmingly a celebration of a man who has undoubtedly changed lives.

My uncle died a few days ago while I was in Paris. He was buried at sea. We got close again when I flew over a couple of times this year to see him. We talked a lot. And the last night we were together, I knew inside that I wouldn’t see him again. I cried a lot when we said goodbye. I don’t want to share anymore than that, but just to say that I love and miss him very much.

Life has its regrets. But it’s also pretty great. We have a responsibility to ourselves and to each other to get up in the morning, pull ourselves out of bed and, before anything else, to take one moment to say 'thank you’ for the gift of having the 24 hours ahead.

Thank you.

James

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