Column

The newspapers on Saturday were full of outpourings of personal grief from many writers who remininsced about what Michael Jackson meant to them. They spoke about how they had saved up to buy a tape of Thriller, how they had learnt to do the moonwalk, the time they danced to Beat it with their first crush, how they had taken to wearing a single glove. They were, to a man and woman, the “'80s generation,”which means they were between the ages of 14-22, give or take a couple of years, when their sensibilities — social, political, cultural — were formed and which shaped them. When people say they belong to a particular generation, it means the popular culture of the time, music, films, books remains embedded in their DNA for life and they think of that time fondly and with great nostalgia. They then “own” those influences and defend them against any criticism.

Michael Jackson came into his own in the 1980s though he was already well known as part of the Jackson-5 before that. His best selling albums — Thriller and Bad — were produced and released in that decade. Not only did Thriller become the best selling album of all time, each of its songs was a hit in both the music and the video formats. Music video was in its infancy and Jackson’s early productions were terrific and showcased his talents as a dancer fully. There was no MTV in those days and in India we had to make do with one channel, Doordarshan, but the babus were imaginative enough to show these videos.

The Jackson influence was felt all over in the 1980s — from the clothes, to the hairstyle, to the moonwalk steps, all were imitated with great gusto. There were other pop icons of the time too, Madonna being one, but it was Jackson who dominated the scene. The others, despite their occasional hits, remained also-rans before his stupendous presence.
He was the sold shining star of his time, but he did not produce a really good album afterBad (1987); Dangerous was just about tolerable (only one hit, Black or White) and HIStory was a turkey. For most of the 1990s and after, he was in the news for some pretty sordid reasons-allegations of child abuse, his changing facial landscape, his dwindling finances, his trial and his drug issues. He had become some kind of weird oddity, doing bizarre things like hanging his child from the balcony. His records sold, but he himself was getting lost in the mist, a distant memory for the MP3 downloading generation which now has its own music to dance to.

Yet, there has been a tsunami of nostalgia, especially among those in the 35-45 age bracket who remember not merely his songs and his outlandish and kitschy persona but also what he meant in their lives. It is not just his talent and his stardom they were paying tribute to. No, they were recalling their own youth. For the ‘80s generation, Jackson represents a totem on which they can hang their personal memories. He provides the assurance that though it was a terrible decade, full of largely unmemorable music, ghastly fashion and regressive social and political values, there were still some geniuses around whose presence ensured that the sorry decade was not a complete washout. The ‘80s had a tough act to follow-the previous 20 years had been about idealism and youthful rebellion and the urge to create a better world. There was The Doors, Pink Floyd, Joan Baez, Bob Dylan and most of all, The Beatles, each one of whom has a resonance to this day. There was Woodstock and there was Janis Joplin and marches down the street. People wanted to drop out.

In contrast, the 1980s were about embracing the system. Thatcher and Reagan ruled and suspender-wearing yuppies with big, blow dried hair strutted about in their Ferraris. Greed was good. It was a time of excesses, about chasing money, about me, me, me. The Bonfire of the Vanities is the quintessential novel of the times, a morality tale of the fall of a Wall Street banker. And the fashions? Women and men, both wore shoulder pads. As for the music, just think of Spandau Ballet, Air Supply and most of all, Wham. It was, in short a nasty decade full of rank bad taste every which way. Who would want to remember such an era?

But of course people always have fond memories of their growing up years and Jackson’s death evokes recollections of the good times. Undoubtedly, many of his fans played his music in the backround as the news of his death became known and thought back to their school and college lives, all in soft-focus. Loss is an integral part of memory and nostalgia and though none of Jackson’s songs had the kind of emotional pull or depth of say the music of John Lennon there is still a tug at the heart. A part of our own lives is entwined inexorably with that of our favourite stars and their death, especially when they die young, is a personal loss, because it reminds us that a part of who we are is gone forever.

For all his weirdo behaviour, Jackson’s songs sound innocent now, especially when one compares them to the laced-with-sexual-innuendo hip hop music of today. And there is no questioning is phenomenal talent as a musician and showman. He takes his place up there in the pantheon of the greats. As for the 1980s, however, that’s quite another matter.