Friday, June 26, 2009

And in the future they will always ask, "where were you when you heard Michael Jackson died?" and I'll admit that I was in the university paper-shop, looking for a paper. I saw all the pictures on the covers of the newspapers, about what happened. I was shocked. Appalled. That the newspapers would, to a rag, take such a negative view of a singer that just tried to shine a little light, who just wanted to give people a glimpse of a different world.

That's Jarvis Cocker of course. Michael Jackson, even in 1996, was yesterdecade's news. If the Brits wanted to give Michael Jackson a made-up award because they wanted him to perform there, fine. He'd done an album that was nothing special but he wanted to perform and, who cares, why not? But even in a business not known for good taste, to have loads of children and people in religious costume look to him like he was some sort of messiah, without any sense of irony, that was when he was finished, and the following thirteen years have been little more than a long death rattle. What was especially amusing was that the next day all the newspapers had a go at Jarvis as a child-trampling thug. The next day they got with the program as they realised that they had misjudged public opinion which was firmly behind the Jarv. Jackson's last act in life was to propel Pulp to the stardom they achieved in the nineties, one of Britpop's biggest acts.

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