RIP, Moonwalker

I come into office, log onto the internet and I'm hit with the news that Michael Jackson is dead.

Just a week or so ago, I read about his poor health and wondered how much longer he had to live.

It was a shock nevertheless.

Michael was my introduction to "Western"/ English-language music (I was well-versed in the language but I wasn't all that interested in the music, and my parents never really allowed me to listen to such stuff.) Anyway sometime when I was ten, I dug up my dad's old cassettes. Among them were the Carpenters, Marley and the Wailers, ABBA, Barbara Streisand's Guilty, and Michael Jackson's Thriller.

Gradually a friend introduced me to Bad, Dangerous, History, Blood on the Dance Floor and all the other albums. It was a revelation. The man sang like an angel and danced like a dervish, and made us dance too.

Somewhere after Blood on the Dance Floor I lost interest. I was an adolescent, growing up and growing out, and I was discovering newer kinds of music: Bryan Adams, Backstreet Boys, Eminem, Britney Spears.... Wacko Jacko was left by the wayside. My interest was temporarily revived with the release of Invincible, but petered out again.

He seemed to be no longer the dazzlingly talented singer of tracks like Don't Stop Till You Get Enough, Thriller, Billie Jean, Smooth Criminal, Black or White, They Don't Really Care About Us - tracks that would get me on my feet irrespective of whatever I was doing, tracks that eminently displayed his incredible vocal range with those distinctive howls and falsettos.

Thereafter he was known more for his bizarre behaviour and innumerable plastic surgeries than for making music. It was when those child abuse allegations cropped up that I decided it was time to move on.

Eventually even Britney and Co were kicked out and I got interested in grunge, hip-hop, hard rock, metal and experimental music. Newcomers were replaced by legends such as Led Zeppelin, Queen and so on. Michael Jackson was pretty much forgotten.

Come to think of it, it took all those people to fill the void created by Jackson. It's only now that I realize how much his music influenced my life. In fact, had it not been for him, I would never have discovered other artists. And those other artists made Michael look old and so yesterday. In fact, I would get annoyed whenever he resurfaced in the news. Enough with the crazy behaviour, get back to making music already!

It's not easy to earn the title of King of Pop for decades at a stretch and have fame rivalling that of the Beatles and Elvis Presley. We might not have known it then, but maybe he's already given us all the music he possibly could.

Memories overwhelm me - of childhood, of hanging out with friends during summer vacations and dancing to MJ on full blast; of trying in vain to imitate his nimble footwork and his distinctive dressing style - the coattails, the hat, the black eye make-up, the wild tassels of hair, the black-and-white shoes and the rhinestone-studded glove.

I feel bereft.

And really, really old.

Goodbye, Michael, and thank you for the music.