Thursday, June 25, 2009
Yeah, I know. Michael Jackson has croaked. Shuffled off. Yipped his last yipped, hooted his last 'woo!', moonwalked into the great darkness without a curtain call. Fine. Yes. I get it.
I even accept his place in the pantheon of modern music.
But I never actually liked his stuff. Not when he was the only thing on the airwaves. Not even later, when it became trendy to retroactively appreciate his ouevre. I'm sorry if you're a big Jacko fan, but his greatest ventures were in the pop realm, and they always seemed like over-produced crap without real substance behind them to me. Jacko's spiritual and musical successors are people like Britney Spears.
So... I guess I'd better stop listening to the radio for a few days. Because even goddam Triple J was full of nothing but the Wackster this morning. And for fuck's sake: they wouldn't play his stuff while he was alive, so how come now that he's dead it's all they wanna put to air?
...normally I'd just switch to the classical station when the Jays start spewing crap. Today I'm too frightened. Last thing I wanna hear is an orchestral Jackson marathon.