"Gone Too Soon: زندگی‌های بسیار مرثیه‌ی مایکل جکسون" عنوان مقاله‌ای است که جو ووگل مدتی پیش در سالروز فوت سلطان پاپ نوشت: «چه زود رفتی» (Gone Too Soon) در سوگ بزرگان از دست رفته نوشته شد. مایکل او را در سوگ یک دوست خواند و سه سال پیش این آهنگ در سوگ او دوباره زنده شد. وقتی سه سال پیش در چنین روزی مایکل جکسون از دنیا رفت، تصنیف Gone Too Soon معنای تازه‌ای یافت. آشر (Usher) آن را در مراسم یادبود جکسون اجرا کرد. این آهنگ جکسون را سالها پیش از آنکه بخواندش، واله و شیدا ساخته بود و سرانجامش چنین شد که در پی پیشامدهایی تلخ و دردناک جامه‌ی عمل بپوشد. این داستانِ آهنگی است که بارها و بارها در سوگ عزیزان از دست رفته از نو زاده شده است. ساعت از نیمه شب یکشنبه گذشته بود که تلفن خانه‌ی کاهن (الن باز کاهن - Alan "Buz" Kohan) به فریاد درآمد. صدایی در آنطرف خط زمزمه کرد: "متاسفم، آیا از خواب بیدارتان کردم؟ آیا باز منزل است؟" آن صدا متعلق به مایکل جکسون بود. کسی که سوار بر امواج موفقیتی که تا پیش از آن نظیرش هرگز دیده نشده بود، جهان را درمی‌نوردید. در آن ماه (فوریه ۱۹۸۳) جکسون عکس روی جلد مجله‌ی رولینگ استون شده بود. «بیت ایت» (Beat It) در تصاحب صدر جدول به «بیلی جین» (Billie Jean) می‌پیوست، کلیپ‌هایش مسلسل‌وار از ام‌تی‌وی پخش میگشت و «تریلر» (Thriller) نیز مانند قرص نان از قفسه‌ی فروشگاه‌ها محو میشد. باز همان باز کاهن بود. تهیه کننده‌ی سرشناس تلویزیون و نویسنده‌ای که بیشتر به خاطر متن‌هایی که برای مراسم جوایز و شوهای گوناگون از جمله موتان۲۵ نوشته بود، شناخته می‌شد. جکسون اولین بار در ۱۲ سالگی او را از نزدیک ملاقات کرده بود. باز در همسایگی آنان در انسینو، در خیابان زیبای بیومنت زندگی می‌کرد. از کهنه‌کاران اسم و رسم‌ دار صنعت سرگرمی بود. آنها دوستان خوبی شدند. جکسون، پاسخ پرسش‌های بی‌انتهایش در مورد افرادی چون بینگ کراسبی، جین کلی، سمی دیویس و فرد آستر را در باز جستجو می‌کرد؛ آنان را "بزرگان" می‌خواند. بعدها برای ساخت شوی خانواده‌ی جکسون (Jackson family's variety show) همکاری تنگاتنگی بین آن دو در لاس وگاس شکل گرفت. "باید چندتا آهنگ بسازیم." این پیشنهادی بود که جکسون در نوجوانی به او داد. پس از آن آستین بالا زدند و همکاری آنان که آهنگ‌هایی چون Scared of the Moon و You Were There نتیجه‌اش بود، به مدت دو دهه پس از آن ادامه یافت. رهی (Rhea) همسر باز به تلفن‌های شبانه‌ی جکسون خو گرفته بود: "یک لحظه"، و بعد گوشی را به دست شوهرش داد. جکسون آنشب برای یک آهنگ خاص زنگ زده بود. عصر همان روز او اجرای ستایش آمیز یک دوست خوب، دیان وارویک (Dionne Warwick) را در یک ویژه برنامه‌ی تلویزیونی با نام Here's Television Entertainment دیده بود. آن برنامه به یاد صحنه‌گردانانی که خیلی زود از دنیا رفتند - از جمله جان لنون، جیمی هندریکس، جنیس جاپلین و سم کوک - تقدیم شده بود. اما آن روزها تلخی این ضایعه حتی بیشتر احساس میشد زیرا کارن کارپنتر تنها چند روز پیش از این مراسم در ۳۲ سالگی چشم از جهان فروبسته بود. [eMJey: جنیس جاپلین، نماد استقلال طلبی زنان در دهه‌ی ۶۰ (درگذشت: اکتبر ۱۹۷۰) به همراه جیمی هندریکس، پدر گیتار الکتریک (درگذشت: سپتامبر ۱۹۷۰) و جیمز موریسون، خواننده‌ی گروه دورز، یکی از جنجالی‌ترین و تاثیرگذارترین گروه‌های راک دهه‌ی ۶۰ (درگذشت: جولای ۱۹۷۱)؛ به دلیل حرف جی (J) ابتدای نام کوچک و مرگ نسبتا مشابه‌شان - مرتبط با مواد مخدر/روانگردان، هر سه حدود ۲۷ سالگی و در بازه‌ای تنها چند ماهه - سه‌گانه‌ی تراژیک و افسانه‌ای «تری جیز» (Three j's) موسیقی راک دهه ۱۹۶۰ را تشکیل داده‌اند.] وارویک در آن برنامه گفته بود: "خواننده‌های خاصی هستند که انرژی دوران‌شان را با خود حمل می‌کنند. آنها سمبل یا نشانه‌ی نسل خود می‌شوند. آنان یادآور سستی و نیازمان برای باهم بودن هستند. امشب پرسش‌های بی‌پاسخی در سر ما غوغا می‌کنند، پرسش‌هایی که هروقت انسان بااستعدادی پیش از زمانش، زندگی را ترک می‌کند، به سراغ ما می‌‌آیند: چرا؟ چه میشد اگر؟ چه شده است؟" وارویک آهنگ تاثیرگذاری نوشته‌ی باز کاهن و لری گراسمن را به اجرا گذاشت. آن آهنگ Gone Too Soon نام داشت. جکسون گفت که در حال تماشای برنامه اشک می‌ریخت. او با موسیقی گروه کارپنترز (The Carpenters) بزرگ شده بود. آهنگ‌های آنها بخشی از دی‌ان‌ای او را تشکیل می‌دادند. اما آن آهنگ کذایی عمیق‌تر از این حرفها بود و او با آن ارتباط برقرار کرد. آن شب جکسون به باز گفت که احساس می‌کند باید روزی این آهنگ را بخواند. باز گفت: "هرگاه اراده کنی، از آن توست." طی ماه‌های بعد، پروژه‌های دیگری به ثمر نشست، از جمله کلیپ‌های بیت ایت و تریلر. اینجا و آنجا در جشن‌ها و مراسم خیریه به هر بهانه‌ای Gone Too Soon در یاد کسی خوانده میشد. پتی لیبل و دونا سامر نیز پس از وارویک آن را خواندند اما ضبط استودیویی هرگز نصیب این آهنگ نشد. سالها بعد در ۱۹۹۰، باز و جکسون سرگرم صحبت تلفنی بودند که جکسون از پسر جوانی با نام رایان وایت (Ryan White) که با وی دوست بود، سخن به میان آورد. جکسون گفت: "او مدت زیادی زنده نمی‌ماند. می‌خواهم کار ویژه‌ای برایش انجام دهم." رایان تبدیل به چهره‌ی ایدز شده بود در زمانه‌ای که این بیماری هنوز ناشناخته، ننگ آور و ترسناک قلمداد میگشت. یک کودک معمولی از کوکومو در ایالت ایندیانا (که از هموفولی رنج میبرد) با دریافت خون آلوده، به ایدز مبتلا شده بود. همکلاسیان‌اش و جامعه از او دوری می‌جستند، دست‌اش می‌انداختند، زور می‌گفتند و با او خشونت می‌‌ورزیدند. دانش‌آموزان او را "نخاله" صدا می‌زدند و مانند یک جذامی با او رفتار می‌کردند. اعضای کلیسا از دست دادن با او خودداری می‌ورزیدند و همسایه‌ها اشتراک روزنامه‌شان را به این دلیل که او تحویل‌شان میداد، لغو کردند. در نهایت او مجبور به ترک مدرسه‌ی راهنمایی شد. وقتی جکسون سرگذشت رایان را شنید، برای کمک و حمایت با او تماس گرفت. آنها به زودی دوستانی صمیمی شدند. آنان که هر دو می‌دانستند متفاوت بودن چگونه است، فرصت این را داشتند که در کنار یکدیگر عادی بودن را تجربه کنند. طی ماه‌های آتی غالب اوقات ارتباط تلفنی بین آن دو برقرار می‌شد. رایان یک نوجوان بسیار اندیشمند، سخنور و بالیده بود. او می‌دانست که بسیاری از او تنفر و وحشت دارند. او می‌فهمید که یک وظیفه‌ی اجتماعی بر گردنش نهاده شده و نیز می‌دانست که به زودی خواهد مرد. جکسون به خاطر می‌آورد که یکبار در پشت میز اتاق نشیمن به گفته‌های رایان وایت گوش می‌داده است که شیوه‌ی تشیع جنازه‌ی خود را برای مادرش بازگو می‌کرد. جکسون طی مصاحبه‌اش با رَبای شمیولی بوتیِک به خاطر آورد: "رایان گفت «مامان، وقتی من مردم، کت و شلوار و کراوات بر تنم نکن. نمی‌خواهم کت و شلوار و کراوات داشته باشم. به من شلوار جین و تیشرت بپوشان.» به آنها گفتم که باید به دستشویی بروم. به آن سمت دویدم و تا میشد گریه کردم." جکسون می‌دانست که نمی‌تواند سرگذشت رایان را تغییر دهد، اما امیدوار بود که بتواند تا پیش از رسیدن موعد، فرصتی برای فرار از این دنیا و لذت بردن از زندگی برایش فراهم آورد." وایت و خانواده‌اش بارها به مزرعه‌ی نورلند (خانه‌ی رویایی مایکل) مسافرت کردند، در آنجا چرخ و فلک سوار شدند، پیتزا خوردند و در سینمای خصوصی، فیلم ایندیانا جونز و آخرین جنگ صلیبی را تماشا کردند. رایان بعدها گفت: "این سفرها باعث شد تا راهم را ادامه دهم." جکسون مدتی بعد یک موستانگ قرمز، اتومیبل رویاهای رایان را خریداری کرد و در زادروزش به او هدیه داد. تنها چند ماه بعد در ۸ آپریل ۱۹۹۰ رایان وایت درگذشت. روز بعد جکسون در ایندیانا بود. او ساعتها در اتاق خالی رایان نشست، به آنچه از وی بر جا مانده بود، لباس‌هایش و عکس‌هایش نگاه کرد. او سپس گفت: "نمی‌دانم چرا کودکان می‌میرند. براستی نمی‌فهمم." جین، مادر رایان به جکسون گفت که می‌تواند هرآنچه که می‌خواهد به عنوان یادگاری بردارد، اما جکسون از او خواست تا اتاق را به همان وضعی که بود، حفظ نماید. در حیاط جلوی خانه، اتومبیل موستانگ قرمزی که جکسون به رایان هدیه داده بود، پارک شده بود و رویش پر بود از گل‌هایی که خیرخواهان فرستاده بودند. آندرا، خواهر رایان به اتفاق جکسون داخل اتومبیل شد. وقتی استارت زده شد، آهنگ «مرد درون آینه» (Man in the Mirror) فضا را پر کرد. این آخرین آهنگی بود که رایان پیش از مرگ به آن گوش می‌داد. وقتی باز کاهن خبر مرگ رایان را شنید، از پل سیورت (Paul Seurrat) که مسئولیت نگاهداری و آرشیو ویدیوهای جکسون را عهده‌دار بود، خواست تا ویدیوهای گرفته شده از جکسون و رایان را با نسخه‌ای از آهنگ Gone Too Soon که توسط دایان وارویک خوانده شده بود، میکس کند. کمی بعد جکسون با باز تماس گرفت: "عالی شده است. عاشقش شده‌ام." جکسون به رایان قول داده بود که در کلیپ ویدیویی بعدی‌اش او را بازی دهد، اما زمان مهلت نداد. جکسون فکر کرد که به جای آن، ویدیویی بسازد و به رایان تقدیم کند. او متعهد شده بود که: "می‌خواهم دنیا تو را بشناسد." جکسون به باز گفت: "اما مسئله‌ای هست. من آهنگ دیگران را بازخوانی نخواهم کرد. آیا کسی این آهنگ را ضبط کرده است؟" پاسخ باز منفی بود: "این آهنگ خوانده شده، اما ضبط نشده است. ما به این چیزها می‌گوییم «یار مقدر شده» (Bashert - در یهودیت: همسر مقدر شده، نیمه‌ی گم شده). دست تقدیر چنین رقم زد. این آهنگ منتظر تو بود." چند ماه بعد باز در استودی اوشن وی (Ocean Way) جایی که جکسون این آهنگ را ضبط می‌کرد، حاضر بود. مطابق معمول، جکسون هنگام خواندن آهنگ اتاق را تاریک کرد تا خود را در فضای موسیقی غرق کند. باز که در اتاق کنترل در کنار مهندس ضبط، بروس سوئدین نشسته بود، با شنیدن آواز مایکل مو بر تنش راست شد. ترانه‌ برای به تصویر کشیدن زیبایی، ناپایداری و شکنندگی زندگی سروده شده بود و با صدای یک خواننده‌ی معمولی، به سادگی می‌توانست به کلیشه و ابتذال کشیده شود. اما جکسون یک خواننده‌ی معمولی نبود. "او روحش را به درون این آهنگ دمید." باز به خاطر می‌آورد: "هیچگونه اغراق یا تظاهری در میان نبود، احساسات‌اش حقیقی بود." Gone Too Soon سیزدهمین ترک از چهارده ترک آلبوم دنجروس (۱۹۹۱) شد و در نخستین روز از ماه دسامبر ۱۹۹۳، در روز جهانی مبارزه با ایدز به صورت تک‌آهنگ انتشار یافت. جکسون همچنین در جشن ریاست جمهوری بیل کلینتون این آهنگ را با هدف شناساندن رایان وایت و جذب حمایت مالی و سیاسی برای پیشبرد تحقیقات علمی در مورد ایدز، خواند. او پیش از خواندن چنین گفت: "می‌خواهم از این فرصت استفاده کنم و در این جشن عمومی، از چیزی بسیار خصوصی سخن بگویم. موضوع در مورد یک دوست بسیار عزیز من است که دیگر در جمع ما نیست. اسم او رایان وایت است. او در ۱۱ سالگی با ویروس ایدز آلوده شد و کمی پس از ۱۸ سالگی‌اش از دنیا رفت، در زمانی که بیشتر جوانها تازه به جستجوی اعجاز زندگی می‌روند. دوست من رایان، یک مرد جوان باهوش، شجاع و بسیار عادی بود و هرگز نمی‌خواست نماد یک بیماری مهلک باشد. طی این سالها من اتفاقات ابلهانه، شاد و پر از درد بسیاری را همراه با او تجربه کردم و در انتهای مسیر کوتاه اما پر فراز و نشیب او در کنارش بودم. رایان رفته است و مانند هر فر دیگری که عزیزی را به خاطر ایدز از دست داده است، من برای همیشه سخت دلتنگش هستم. او رفته است اما من می‌خواهم که زندگی او پس از مرگش معنایش را حفظ کند.» وقتی جکسون در روز ۲۵ ژوئن ۲۰۰۹ در منزلش از دنیا رفت، Gone Too Soon اهمیتی دوباره یافت. او ۵۰ ساله بود. سه سال پس از آن تاریخ، واژه‌هایی که او با صدا و جوهره‌ی تقلیدناپذیرش به آنها زندگی بخشید، همچنان طنین انداز می‌شوند. شاید که این آهنگ دوباره خوانده شود. منبع: eMJey.com / The Atlantic

از مایکل جکسون پس از مرگ علاوه بر میراثی عظیم از جمله گنجینه‌ی هنری و آرشیو پربار موسیقایی، یک بدهی ۴۷۵ میلیون دلاری نیز باقی ماند که بیشتر نتیجه‌ی تلاش وی برای حفظ کمپانی حق نشر سونی/ای‌تی‌وی و کاتالوگ بیتلها بود. این کمپانی امروز ارزشی بیش از ۲ میلیارد دلار دارد. بنیاد مایکل جکسون طی سه سال پس از مرگ وی درآمد بسیار بالایی داشته و بدین ترتیب مایکل در میان زندگان و مردگان، پردرآمدترین هنرمند بوده است. اکنون خبر رسیده که بنیاد وی توانسته است با تکیه بر همین درآمد، بدهی نزیک به ۵۰۰ میلیون دلاری وی را تقریبا بطور کامل تصفیه نماید. بنیاد مایکل جکسون به تازگی ورقه‌های قانونی مربوط به هزینه و درآمدش را به دادگاه تسلیم کرد. طبق این اوراق، درآمد خالص بنیاد تا پایان ماه می امسال از مجموع بدهی مایکل پیشی گرفته است. بر اساس این برگه‌ها، کل بدهی مایکل جکسون به استثنای یک مورد که مربوط به حق نشر می‌باشد، تصفیه شده است. بنیاد انتظار دارد که این مورد نیز تا انتهای امسال بطور کامل تصفیه گردد. منبع: eMJey.com / TMZ

نویسنده جو ووگل در مقاله‌ای با عنوان «آیا من همان دیوی هستم که میگویید؟» (Am I the Beast You Visualized? The Cultural Abuse of Michael Jackson) ‍به بدرفتاری جامعه با مایکل جکسون پرداخته است. او می‌نویسد: طی هفته‌های اخیر تمامی ما این را بارها و بارها شنیده‌ایم: این دادگاه مایکل جکسون نیست، دادگاه دکتر کانراد موری است. خوب، البته، ما واقعیت را می‌دانیم. این "دادگاه قتل مایکل جکسون است." او، همانگونه که همیشه بود، نقش اصلی است. We have heard the point made over and over these past few weeks: It is not Michael Jackson currently on trial; it is Dr. Conrad Murray. But, of course, we know the reality. This is the "Michael Jackson Death Trial." He is, as he always was, the main event, the tantalizing spectacle. It is Michael Jackson who is under the microscope as we pry, one more time, through his home, his medical records, his body. And while the public at large is much more sympathetic now that Jackson has passed, he remains the subject of endless scrutiny and judgment. Does any of it matter now that the man himself can't feel the abuse? Should the average person even care whether a "celebrity" like Jackson is treated with callousness or disregard? Projects like Voices, whose "Words and Violence" series highlights the disturbing trajectory of our social discourse, says yes. Words matter. No matter the target. Words, as we have witnessed with the recent attention on youth bullying and suicides, can lead to devastatingly tragic ends. They can also be used to inspire and heal. Michael Jackson knew this. In ۱۹۸۸, he befriended AIDS victim Ryan White, a young boy forced out of his school in Kokomo, Indiana because of relentless verbal assaults and threats of violence. Jackson, White said, made him feel normal. "[Michael] didn't care what race you were, what color you were, what was your handicap, what was your disease," recalled Ryan White's mother, Jeanne. "[He] just loved all children." White is one of thousands of "outsiders" to whom Jackson reached out, befriended and treated with kindness. He identified with them. He understood their pain and loneliness. He felt empathy for their struggle to live in a world that refused to accept them for who they were, whether because of illness, physical appearance, race, sexual orientation or some other reason. Even as a young boy, Jackson possessed this sensitivity. Listen to the song, "Ben." There is genuine pain and compassion in Jackson's delivery ("They don't see you as I do/ I wish they would try to"). The song can be seen as one of the first artistic statements Jackson made on behalf of the marginalized and misunderstood. Many more would follow. Jackson's outsider role may have begun in childhood (as there was never a time Jackson felt "normal" and never a time he was perceived as such). Yet the intensity and hostility caused by his difference grew over time. In his ۱۹۹۶ essay, "The Celebrity Freak: Michael Jackson's Grotesque Glory," David Yuan argued that Michael Jackson was the defining "freak" of our time. No other public figure in the world evoked the same level of ridicule, scrutiny and hyper-interrogation. As early as ۱۹۸۵, Jackson was being labeled "Wacko Jacko" by the tabloids, a term he despised (as recently as this year, some mainstream news organizations continued to refer to him as "Jacko"). In the press, he was frequently described as "bizarre," "weird," and "eccentric." Indeed, there was very little he said or did from the mid-۱۹۸۰s forward that wasn't described in these terms by the media. Jackson was mocked incessantly for his skin disorder, vitiligo, which most people didn't believe was real until it was confirmed definitively in his autopsy. He was mocked for his love of animals; for his love of children; for his love of the planet. He was mocked for his marriages, for his three kids, for his Neverland home. He was mocked for his sexuality, his voice, his childlike behavior. Even reviews of his music couldn't resist filling up the majority of the space with pseudo-psychoanalysis and ad hominem assaults. Can there be any doubt that this treatment by the media and culture at large was abusive? Certainly the victim of these dehumanizing attacks felt that way. Listen to the lyrics of his songs. In "Tabloid Junkie" he describes the mass media as "parasites" sucking the life out of him, while drugging/distracting the general public with a steady dose of sensationalism. In "Stranger in Moscow" he is an artist in exile, used up and spit out by his native country. "I was wanderin' in the rain," he sings from the lonely role of vagabond, "Mask of life/ Feeling insane." In "Scream" he is so weary of being bullied, he pleads, "Oh brother, please have mercy 'cause I just can't take it." The song, however, also serves as a vehicle of strength and resolve ("Kickin' me down/ I got to get up"). Michael and sister Janet deliver a fierce counterblow to a system they rightfully see as corrupt and unjust. "You're sellin' out souls," Janet sings in one verse, "but I care about mine." It is a defiant song about standing up to cruelty, even when the pain and indignation is so deep it can only be expressed in a guttural scream. In numerous songs, Jackson uses his music as a rallying call for others who have been mistreated. In "They Don't Care About Us," he witnesses for the disenfranchised and demeaned. "Tell me what has become of my rights," he sings, "Am I invisible because you ignore me?" "Little Susie" draws attention to the plight of the neglected and abandoned, telling the story of a young girl whose gifts go unnoticed until she is found dead at the bottom of the stairs in her home ("Lift her with care," Jackson sings, "Oh, the blood in her hair"); "Earth Song" offers an epic lamentation on behalf of the planet and its most vulnerable inhabitants (represented by the choir's passionate shouts, "What about us!"). Through such songs (as well as through his life and persona), Jackson became a sort of global representative of the "Other." The mass media, however, never held much regard for Jackson's other-ness, just as they held little regard for the "others" he spoke of in his songs. Rather, they found a narrative that was simple and profitable -- Jackson as eccentric "freak" -- and stuck with it for nearly three decades, gradually upping the stakes. Perhaps Jackson's most compelling response to the public perception of him that resulted comes in his trio of late Gothic songs: "Ghosts," "Is It Scary," and "Threatened." It is here that Jackson holds a mirror up to the society that scorns him and asks it to look at its own grotesque reflection. "Is it scary for you!" he demands. The songs, and their accompanying visual representations, are not only keenly self-aware, they demonstrate a shrewd understanding of the toxic forces that surround and haunt him. In the short film, Ghosts, the Mayor of Normal Valley (a conservative figure of authority inspired, in part, by Santa Barbara District Attorney, Tom Sneddon) taunts Jackson's character: "Freaky boy! Freak! Circus freak." Interestingly, it is Jackson himself (disguised as the Mayor) that delivers these words, and one can feel the way they have been internalized. They are slurs intended to mark, marginalize and humiliate (which was ultimately the purpose of the witch hunts of ۱۹۹۳ and ۲۰۰۵). For the Mayor, Jackson's presence in the community is intolerable. It is not that Jackson has done any harm; it is simply that he is different and that difference is threatening. In such artistic expressions, Jackson clearly recognizes what is being done to him. He is being defined by outside forces. He is a phantom they have constructed in their own minds. As he sings in "Is It Scary," "If you wanna see/ Eccentric oddities I'll be grotesque before your eyes." He will be grotesque, in other words, because that is what the public "wants to see." It is how they have been conditioned to see. Later in the song, he anticipates his audience's reactions, asking: "Am I amusing you/ Or just confusing you/ Am I the beast you visualized?" Has he become something less than human? Why is this? Is it his physical appearance? His ambiguous identity? His unusual life story? There is no question Michael Jackson was different. The question is why this difference incited such fervent disparagement and abuse. One of the remarkable qualities of Jackson's life and work, however, is that he refuses to compromise his "difference." He never becomes "normal," as the term is represented by, say, the Mayor of Normal Valley. He doesn't conform to expectations. Rather, he is true to himself and flaunts his unique, multi-faceted identity, to the frustration of those who would like him to fit in more predictable boxes. His differences, as Susan Fast notes, were "impenetrable, uncontainable, and they created enormous anxiety. Please be black, Michael, or white, or gay or straight, father or mother, father to children, not a child yourself, so we at least know how to direct our liberal (in)tolerance. And try not to confuse all the codes simultaneously." Even over two years after his tragic passing, it seems, many people don't know what to make of Michael Jackson. He is reduced, therefore, to easy labels like "drug addict." A picture of his lifeless body is callously plastered on news sites. It is cruel, abusive behavior masquerading as "normal." Perhaps this is why Jackson chose the medium of the Gothic to fight back. It was a way to turn the tables, to symbolically represent the world as it often felt to him: monstrous and grotesque. His "horror stories" certainly weren't intended merely to entertain. "Freaks are called freaks," observed author James Baldwin, "and are treated as they are treated -- in the main, abominably -- because they are human beings who cause to echo, deep within us, our most profound terrors and desires." In Jackson's case those "terrors and desires" were manifold, including race, sexuality, money and power. Yet as much as Jackson became the symbolic magnet onto which many of these cultural anxieties were projected, he was also an actual person trying to live his life. Toward the end of "Is It Scary" he explains, "I'm just not what you seek of me," before revealing to the compassionate listener: "But if you came to see/ The truth, the purity/ It's here inside a lonely heart/ So let the performance start!" Ironically, it is in the "performance" of his art that we find "the truth, the purity." This is where he exorcizes his demons, where his anguish is transfused into creative energy. This is where the walls come down and the mask comes off. To the outside world, he may be a spectacle, a caricature, a freak; but here, finally, inside his music, he bares his soul. He is a human being. The question is: What do we see? This article is cross-posted at Voices: Education Project as part of the "Words and Violence" curriculum. Joseph Vogel is the author Man in the Music: The Creative Life and Work of Michael Jackson, released worldwide November ۱, ۲۰۱۱. http://www.huffingtonpost.com/joe-vogel/michael-jackson-trial-_b_۱۰۶۸۷۵۰.html

جوو وگل ۱. Second to None: Race, Representation, and the Misunderstood Power of Michael Jackson saturday bang means take it to clubs or pubs where people drink and dance on saturday night. Saturday Sun yek rooznaameh ast I ain't second to none... ain't yekjoor mokhafafe dar waghe slang-e baraye "Am not" ۱۴ minutes agoEli Azari aha merci bita joon! vali chera mige "nistam!" ۱۴ minutes agoBita Taherian in jomle ya'ni "man shabihe hichkase dige-ee nistam"... "man dovomie kasi nistam" The Misunderstood Power of Michael Jackson's Music FEB ۸ ۲۰۱۲, ۱۱:۱۴ AM ET His influence today proves him to be one of the greatest creators of all time, but Jackson's art--like that of many black artists--still doesn't get the full respect it deserves. AP Images More than two and a half years after his untimely death, Michael Jackson continues to entertain. Cirque du Soleil's crowd-pleasing Michael Jackson Immortal World Tour is currently crisscrossing North America, while a recent Jackson-themed episode of Glee earned the show a ۱۶ percent jump in ratings and its highest music sales of the season. Even Madonna's halftime Super Bowl spectacle harkened back to a trend first initiated by Jackson. But there is another crucial part of Jackson's legacy that deserves attention: his pioneering role as an African-American artist working in an industry still plagued by segregation, stereotypical representations, or little representation at all. Jackson never made any qualms about his aspirations. He wanted to be the best. When his highly successful Off the Wall album (in ۱۹۸۱, the best-selling album ever by a black artist) was slighted at the Grammy Awards, it only fueled Jackson's resolve to create something better. His next album, Thriller, became the best-selling album by any artist of any race in the history of the music industry. It also won a record-setting seven Grammy awards, broke down color barriers on radio and TV, and redefined the possibilities of popular music on a global scale. Yet among critics (predominantly white), skepticism and suspicion only grew. "He will not swiftly be forgiven for having turned so many tables," predicted James Baldwin in ۱۹۸۵, "for he damn sure grabbed the brass ring, and the man who broke the bank at Monte Carlo has nothing on Michael." Baldwin proved prophetic. In addition to a flood of ridicule regarding his intelligence, race, sexuality, appearance, and behavior, even his success and ambition were used by critics as evidence that he lacked artistic seriousness. Reviews frequently described his work as "calculating," "slick," and "shallow." Establishment rock critics such as Dave Marsh and Greil Marcus notoriously dismissed Jackson as the first major popular music phenomenon whose impact was more commercial than cultural. Elvis Presley, the Beatles, and Bruce Springsteen, they claimed, challenged and re-shaped society. Jackson simply sold records and entertained. The point of his ambition wasn't money and fame; it was respect. It shouldn't be much of a strain to hear the racial undertones in such an assertion. Historically, this dismissal of black artists (and black styles) as somehow lacking substance, depth and import is as old as America. It was the lie that constituted minstrelsy. It was a common criticism of spirituals (in relation to traditional hymns), of jazz in the '۲۰s and '۳۰s, of R&B in the '۵۰s and '۶۰s, of funk and disco in the '۷۰s, and of hip-hop in the '۸۰s and '۹۰s (and still today). The cultural gatekeepers not only failed to initially recognize the legitimacy of these new musical styles and forms, they also tended to overlook or reduce the achievements of the African-American men and women who pioneered them. The King of Jazz, for white critics, wasn't Louis Armstrong, it was Paul Whiteman; the King of Swing wasn't Duke Ellington, it was Benny Goodman; the King of Rock wasn't Chuck Berry or Little Richard, it was Elvis Presley. Given this history of white coronation, it is worth considering why the media took such issue with referring to Michael Jackson as the King of Pop. Certainly his achievements merited such a title. Yet up until his death in ۲۰۰۹, many journalists insisted on referring to him as the "self-proclaimed King of Pop." Indeed, in ۲۰۰۳, Rolling Stone went so far as to ridiculously re-assign the title to Justin Timberlake. (To keep with the historical pattern, just last year the magazine devised a formula that coronated Eminem--over Run DMC, Public Enemy, Tupac, Jay-Z, or Kanye West--as the King of Hip Hop). Jackson was well-aware of this history and consistently pushed against it. In ۱۹۷۹, Rolling Stone passed on a cover story about the singer, saying that it didn't feel Jackson merited front cover status. "I've been told over and over again that black people on the covers of magazines don't sell copies," an exasperated Jackson told confidantes. "Just wait. Some day those magazines will come begging for an interview." Jackson, of course, was right (Rolling Stone editor Jann Wenner actually sent a self-deprecatory letter acknowledging the oversight in ۱۹۸۴). And during the ۱۹۸۰s, at least, Jackson's image seemed ubiquitous. Yet over the long haul, Jackson's initial concern seems legitimate. As shown in the breakdown below, his appearances on the front cover of Rolling Stone, the United States' most visible music publication, are far fewer than those of white artists: John Lennon: ۳۰ Mick Jagger: ۲۹ Paul McCartney: ۲۶ Bob Dylan: ۲۲ Bono: ۲۲ Bruce Springsteen: ۲۲ Madonna: ۲۰ Britney Spears: ۱۳ Michael Jackson: ۸ (two came after he died; one featured Paul McCartney as well) Is it really possible that Michael Jackson, arguably the most influential artist of the ۲۰th century, merited less than half the coverage of Bono, Bruce Springsteen, and Madonna? Of course, this disregard wasn't limited to magazine covers. It extended into all realms of print media. In a ۲۰۰۲ speech in Harlem, Jackson not only protested his own slights, but also articulated how he fit into a lineage of African-American artists struggling for respect: All the forms of popular music from jazz to hip-hop, to bebop, to soul [come from black innovation]. You talk about different dances from the catwalk, to the jitterbug, to the charleston, to break dancing -- all these are forms of black dancing...What would [life] be without a song, without a dance, and joy and laughter, and music. These things are very important but if you go to the bookstore down the corner, you will not see one black person on the cover. You'll see Elvis Presley, you'll see the Rolling Stones...But we're the real pioneers who started these [forms]." While there was certainly some rhetorical flourish to his "not one black person on the cover" claim, his broader point of severely disproportionate representation in print was unquestionably accurate. Books on Elvis Presley alone outnumber titles on Chuck Berry, Aretha Franklin, James Brown, Ray Charles, Marvin Gaye, Stevie Wonder, and Michael Jackson combined. When I began my book, Man in the Music: The Creative Life and Work of Michael Jackson, in ۲۰۰۵, there wasn't one serious book focused on Jackson's creative output. Indeed, at my local Barnes & Noble, I could find only two books about him, period. Both dealt with the scandals and controversies of his personal life. It seemed the only way Michael Jackson could get covered was if he was presented as a freak, a curiosity, a spectacle. Even reviews of his albums, post-Thriller, focused on the sensational and were overwhelmingly condescending, when not outright hostile. Of course, this poor coverage wasn't only about race. Biases were often more subtle, veiled and coded. They were wrapped together with his overall otherness and conflated with the "Wacko Jacko" media construct. In addition, as Baldwin astutely noted, there were not entirely unrelated apprehensions about his wealth and fame, anxieties about his eccentricities and sexuality, confusion about his changing appearance, contempt for his childlike behavior, and fears about his power. But the bottom line is this: Somehow, in the midst of the circus that surrounded him, Jackson managed to leave behind one of the most impressive catalogs in the history of music. Rarely has an artist been so adept at communicating the vitality and vulnerability of the human condition: the exhilaration, yearning, despair, and transcendence. Indeed, in Jackson's case he literally embodied the music. It charged through him like an electric current. He mediated it through every means at his disposal--his voice, his body, his dances, films, words, technology and performances. His work was multi-media in a way never before experienced. This is why the tendency of many critics to judge his work against circumscribed, often white, Euro-American musical standards is such a mistake. Jackson never fit neatly into categories and defied many of the expectations of rock/alternative enthusiasts. He was rooted deeply in the African-American tradition, which is crucial to understanding his work. But the hallmark of his art is fusion, the ability to stitch together disparate styles, genres and mediums to create something entirely new. If critics simply hold Jackson's lyrics on a sheet of paper next to those of Bob Dylan, then, they will likely find Jackson on the short end. It's not that Jackson's lyrics aren't substantive (on the HIStory album alone, he tackles racism, materialism, fame, corruption, media distortion, ecological destruction, abuse, and alienation). But his greatness is in his ability to augment his words vocally, visually, physically, and sonically, so that the whole is greater than the sum of its parts. Listen, for example, to his non-verbal vocalizations--the cries, exclamations, grunts, gasps, and improvisatory vernacular--in which Jackson communicates beyond the strictures of language. Listen to his beat boxing and scatting; how he stretches or accents words; his James Brown-like staccato facility; the way his voice moves from gravelly to smooth to sublime; the passionate calls and responses; the way he soars just as naturally with gospel choirs and electric guitars. Listen to his virtuosic rhythms and rich harmonies; the nuanced syncopation and signature bass lines; the layers of detail and archive of unusual sounds. Go beyond the usual classics, and play songs like "Stranger in Moscow," "I Can't Help It ," "Liberian Girl ," "Who Is It," and "In the Back." Note the range of subject matter, the spectrum of moods and textures, the astounding variety (and synthesis) of styles. On the Dangerous album alone, Jackson moves from New Jack Swing to classical, hip hop to gospel, R&B to industrial, funk to rock. It was music without borders or barriers, and it resonated across the globe. However, it wasn't until Jackson's death in ۲۰۰۹ that he finally began to engender more respect and appreciation from the intelligentsia. It is one of humanity's strange habits to only truly appreciate genius once it's gone. Still, in spite of the renewed interest, the easy dismissals and disparity in serious print coverage remains. As a competitor on par with the legendary Muhammad Ali, Michael Jackson wouldn't be satisfied. His goal was to prove that a black artist could do everything a white artist could (and more). He wanted to move beyond every boundary, earn every recognition, break every record, and achieve artistic immortality ("That is why to escape death," he said, "I bind my soul to my work"). The point of his ambition wasn't money and fame; it was respect. As he boldly proclaimed in his ۱۹۹۱ hit, "Black or White," "I had to tell them I ain't second to none."