Late singer/songwriter Michael Jackson once taught us “Don’t blame it on the sunshine. Don’t blame it on moonlight. Don’t blame it on the good times. Blame it on the boogie.”
As much as I enjoy listening to his music, I’d beg to differ with old Jacko on his accusatory advocacy. After all, I’d venture the stinging sunburn I experienced earlier in the year was definitely consequential of sunshine rays. It would be utterly remiss to pin the blame for that episode at boogie’s door.
I’m sure MJ meant well, but I don’t subscribe to his all encompassing and generalistic observations on blame culture. Particularly, the free pass afforded to sunshine, moonlight and good times, regardless of their behaviour.
You’ve got to take responsibility for your actions. A trait MJ appeared not to employ when telling us Billie Jean was spreading misinformation and the kid wasn’t his son. Was he so sure?
Was Jacko certain he moon danced outta there in a timely fashion? That may seem crude and intrusive, but it’s only what paternity suit lawyers would’ve asked; although possibly delivered in a less brash manner…… As they say, where there’s blame, there’s a claim!
The reclusive star, who never knowingly overpaid for eggplant, was indeed a complex character. A riddle wrapped in an enigma, whose behaviour, along with the use of the word shamone in song lyrics, frequently baffled his audience.
In July 1988, I actually saw Michael Jackson perform live at the old Wembley Stadium, in London, during his Bad tour. The then wafer thin, pale skinned Jacko wowed the audience with a fantastic show.
MJ performed 123 shows across the globe, in a tour which became the highest grossing in history. Despite this, though, similar to golfers, the fella only appeared to be able to afford one glove.
What I experienced that evening was 2-3 hours of Jacko’s classics, predominantly from the Bad, Thriller and Off The Wall albums. A trinity of records, when performed in association with incredible group choreography, musical accompaniment and moon dancing, providing an unsurpassable night of entertainment.
Was it the greatest gig I’ve ever seen live?….. I’d have to answer it is joint first with Stevie Wonder, George Michael, Lionel Richie, Phil Collins, James Taylor, Sting and Paul Simon. Each and every one of them imparting the similar level of gravy as GJ Strachan watched on 50-100 yards from the stage
Each seat a pew where I made memories which, in a few years down the line, I’ll be able to share with grandkids, should I be lucky enough to become a grandfather. The conversation with my offspring’s progeny I imagine would play out something like this:-
Me, with ass parked in armchair watching documentary about the band Genesis, points at telly to inform my young grandchildren –
“Yes, when I wore a younger man’s clothes, I saw that man singing live at the Nottingham arena.”
Inquisitive Grandchild Number 1 – “Why did you wear a younger man’s clothes, Grandad?…. What happened to yours?”
Me – “Er no, …….I meant when I was a younger man.”
Inquisitive Grandchild 2 – “Were your clothes wet after falling in a pond, Grandad?”
Me – “No, they were my clothes. It was me who was younger.”
Grandchild 1 – “Did you wear older peoples clothes as well, Grandad?”
Me – “No I never wore anyone else’s clothes….. Saying when I wore a younger man’s clothes means when I was a younger man.”
Grandchild 2 – “Well, why did you not just say when you were younger, Grandad?….. We’d have understood then.“
Grandchild 1 – “Yes, you’re always using big words and sayings we don’t understand and no one else uses…… We’re only 7 and 5!….. Daddy says you must’ve swallowed a dictionary.”
Me – “I’m only trying to improve both of your vocabularies.”
Grandchild 1 – “What’s a dictionary, Grandad?”
Grandchild 2 – “What are vocabularies, Grandad?
Me – “A dictionary is a book which tells you what words mean…… A vocabulary is a sign of your command of the English language.”
After a short period of silence, Grandchild 1 and 2 look each other in the eye, both shrugging with bemusement, prior to exclaiming “Can you turn this rubbish music off, Grandad and put Scooby Doo on!”