The King of Pop

Watching This Is It inspires me to renewed awe for the late Michael Jackson’s genius.

He was a Virgo, you know. *beams*

But seriously, folks, when he died, a halogen spotlight died with him. He had such ferocious talent and relentless instinct for music and movement—watching him rehearse for the tour that never happened is a mesmerizing glimpse at the inner working of a savant.

The tragedy: knowing it was filmed during the final weeks of his life.

The miracle: that he had decades of material from which to choose. 1987’s Bad is my favourite album except on days when the posthumous CD Xscape surpasses it, and even then, naming my top five favourite MJ tracks is like picking my top five Beatles songs. It absolutely depends on the day.

In all honesty, Ter made his work a fixture in my life; she was the greater fan. She mapped out the moves to Thriller when choreographing her own performance in her dancing days (we still laugh about the stick figures bent this way and that across the foolscap). His death immobilized her; she couldn’t listen to any of his albums until well after his funeral.

Six years later, he remains a vibrant presence in our music library. Prompted to revisit This Is It the other night, I became acutely aware of his effect on the world and on me. Whenever I need reminding of creativity’s power in action, I look to his legacy.

I suppose there are people who will always mourn the music he never made. I am more inclined to gratitude for the music he left behind.