Sunday Telegraph: "Michael Jackson's Genius Is What Matters"
On 8th February, Britain's Sunday Telegraph published a refreshing article by Tom Utley about Michael Jackson. Here is the article:
Of course Jackson's odd - but his genius is what matters
We must tread very carefully now that John Cleese has won his libel action against the London Evening Standard. I must confess that before Thursday's judgment, I was one of those who agreed with the Standard that Mr Cleese was not nearly as funny as he used to be. I now fully accept, m'lud, that he is one of the funniest men on the planet. Hee hee, ho ho. The very thought of him splits my sides.
With the Cleese judgment in mind, let me say at the outset that Martin Bashir is an absolutely brilliant interviewer, at the very peak of his form. My only reservation is that in the course of his long encounter with Michael Jackson, broadcast this week, he asked almost none of the questions I wanted to hear answered.
It seemed to me that Mr Bashir had missed the point of Jackson. True, the man is extremely weird. But we all knew that - and plenty of other people are a banana or two over the bunch. It is also true that Jackson has an eccentric relationship with children, and not all of us would look upon him either as a model father or as the perfect host for our young sons' sleep-overs. But, again, plenty of other grown men have an interest in children that is at least as sinister as Jackson's, and probably more so.
No. The point about Michael Jackson is not that he is odd but that the man is a genius. As a dancer, he ranks well up there with Fred Astaire and Rudolf Nureyev. As a singer, he has been dazzlingly brilliant since he first cleared his throat on stage when he was eight. To put it at its lowest, Michael Jackson is an extremely important figure in the history of popular culture.
Almost no sense of that came across in the Granada interview. Mr Bashir treated Jackson like a mildly interesting psychological case study, firing endless questions to him about his sex life, his relationship with his father, his plastic surgery and his eccentric little ways. For all the interest that he showed in his interviewee's artistry, he might as well have been talking to any old loony dragged out of the local bin.
It was as if Mr Bashir had been given eight months' unfettered access to Napoleon, and could think of nothing to ask him about except his relationship with Josephine, whether or not he read bedtime stories to Nappy Junior and how far his behaviour fell short of the suburban English ideal of morality.
It was not until Thursday night, when ITV showed the recording of a Jackson concert in Madison Square Garden, that viewers were reminded of what sets Jackson apart from your run-of-the-mill nutcase. This was an absolutely sensational performance - and I say that as somebody who has never been much of an enthusiast for pop.
You often notice, when a singer is bopping along with a dance-troupe, that the professional dancers perform their steps much better than the singer. But when Jackson is on stage, the opposite is true. This is not because he employs second-rate dancers - on the contrary, he hires the very best that his millions can buy. It is simply because he is the best, the most electrifying mover in the business. To see him dance, and hear him sing, is one of the most exciting experiences that Western showbusiness has to offer.
How did he come to be such a genius? Who, if anyone, taught him to dance like that? How obsessively does he have to practise to achieve the perfection that he displays in his act? Does he have a voice coach to help him hit those high notes with such unerring accuracy, or was he just born with the gift? What does he eat and drink? How does he prepare for a concert? How many times does he record a track or a video shot before he is satisfied with it?
There were moments in the Bashir interview when I thought that some light was about to be thrown on these matters. It was interesting, for example, when Jackson said that the key to dancing well was not to think about anything at all, but to let the music dictate your movements. Other dancers have said this, but it is a point that might have been pursued. Interesting, too (although we had all heard it before), that Jackson's father used to take a belt to him when he got a dance step wrong.
The guilty thought occurred to me that if a whipping helped to produce a genius, perhaps we should all try it on our sons. But Mr Bashir's only reaction was to suck his breath through his teeth and shake his head in disbelief, real or pretend. He seemed to be far more interested, in a cod-psychiatrist sort of way, in what had made Jackson so peculiar than in what had made him so brilliant. He affected complete shock, for example, when Jackson told him that in his childhood, his older brothers used to bring girls back to the room that he shared with them while he was on tour. Oh, really, Mr Bashir. Do grow up.
If you want my cod-psychiatrist view of what made Jackson so nutty, I reckon you need look no further than the fact that everywhere he has gone since his early childhood, he has been the centre of attention, mobbed for his autograph and surrounded by swooning women. That sort of treatment is enough to loosen the tightest screw. Mr Bashir of all people should be aware of that. Until this week, his most famous interviewee was Diana, Princess of Wales - and look what effect all that adulation had on her.
Why is Michael Jackson mobbed? Because he is a genius, that's why. And if the effect of Mr Bashir's smug and patronising interview is to drive him even further round the bend, and off the stage, he will have done a very great disservice to the arts. If only Granada had given the job to Melvyn Bragg instead.
Fuente:MJNI
On 8th February, Britain's Sunday Telegraph published a refreshing article by Tom Utley about Michael Jackson. Here is the article:
Of course Jackson's odd - but his genius is what matters
We must tread very carefully now that John Cleese has won his libel action against the London Evening Standard. I must confess that before Thursday's judgment, I was one of those who agreed with the Standard that Mr Cleese was not nearly as funny as he used to be. I now fully accept, m'lud, that he is one of the funniest men on the planet. Hee hee, ho ho. The very thought of him splits my sides.
With the Cleese judgment in mind, let me say at the outset that Martin Bashir is an absolutely brilliant interviewer, at the very peak of his form. My only reservation is that in the course of his long encounter with Michael Jackson, broadcast this week, he asked almost none of the questions I wanted to hear answered.
It seemed to me that Mr Bashir had missed the point of Jackson. True, the man is extremely weird. But we all knew that - and plenty of other people are a banana or two over the bunch. It is also true that Jackson has an eccentric relationship with children, and not all of us would look upon him either as a model father or as the perfect host for our young sons' sleep-overs. But, again, plenty of other grown men have an interest in children that is at least as sinister as Jackson's, and probably more so.
No. The point about Michael Jackson is not that he is odd but that the man is a genius. As a dancer, he ranks well up there with Fred Astaire and Rudolf Nureyev. As a singer, he has been dazzlingly brilliant since he first cleared his throat on stage when he was eight. To put it at its lowest, Michael Jackson is an extremely important figure in the history of popular culture.
Almost no sense of that came across in the Granada interview. Mr Bashir treated Jackson like a mildly interesting psychological case study, firing endless questions to him about his sex life, his relationship with his father, his plastic surgery and his eccentric little ways. For all the interest that he showed in his interviewee's artistry, he might as well have been talking to any old loony dragged out of the local bin.
It was as if Mr Bashir had been given eight months' unfettered access to Napoleon, and could think of nothing to ask him about except his relationship with Josephine, whether or not he read bedtime stories to Nappy Junior and how far his behaviour fell short of the suburban English ideal of morality.
It was not until Thursday night, when ITV showed the recording of a Jackson concert in Madison Square Garden, that viewers were reminded of what sets Jackson apart from your run-of-the-mill nutcase. This was an absolutely sensational performance - and I say that as somebody who has never been much of an enthusiast for pop.
You often notice, when a singer is bopping along with a dance-troupe, that the professional dancers perform their steps much better than the singer. But when Jackson is on stage, the opposite is true. This is not because he employs second-rate dancers - on the contrary, he hires the very best that his millions can buy. It is simply because he is the best, the most electrifying mover in the business. To see him dance, and hear him sing, is one of the most exciting experiences that Western showbusiness has to offer.
How did he come to be such a genius? Who, if anyone, taught him to dance like that? How obsessively does he have to practise to achieve the perfection that he displays in his act? Does he have a voice coach to help him hit those high notes with such unerring accuracy, or was he just born with the gift? What does he eat and drink? How does he prepare for a concert? How many times does he record a track or a video shot before he is satisfied with it?
There were moments in the Bashir interview when I thought that some light was about to be thrown on these matters. It was interesting, for example, when Jackson said that the key to dancing well was not to think about anything at all, but to let the music dictate your movements. Other dancers have said this, but it is a point that might have been pursued. Interesting, too (although we had all heard it before), that Jackson's father used to take a belt to him when he got a dance step wrong.
The guilty thought occurred to me that if a whipping helped to produce a genius, perhaps we should all try it on our sons. But Mr Bashir's only reaction was to suck his breath through his teeth and shake his head in disbelief, real or pretend. He seemed to be far more interested, in a cod-psychiatrist sort of way, in what had made Jackson so peculiar than in what had made him so brilliant. He affected complete shock, for example, when Jackson told him that in his childhood, his older brothers used to bring girls back to the room that he shared with them while he was on tour. Oh, really, Mr Bashir. Do grow up.
If you want my cod-psychiatrist view of what made Jackson so nutty, I reckon you need look no further than the fact that everywhere he has gone since his early childhood, he has been the centre of attention, mobbed for his autograph and surrounded by swooning women. That sort of treatment is enough to loosen the tightest screw. Mr Bashir of all people should be aware of that. Until this week, his most famous interviewee was Diana, Princess of Wales - and look what effect all that adulation had on her.
Why is Michael Jackson mobbed? Because he is a genius, that's why. And if the effect of Mr Bashir's smug and patronising interview is to drive him even further round the bend, and off the stage, he will have done a very great disservice to the arts. If only Granada had given the job to Melvyn Bragg instead.
Fuente:MJNI
