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Cliff Notes: The mesmerizing power of two icons
  
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By CLIFFORD PUGH
Even though it’s been a week since Michael Jackson unexpectedly died, this column is hardly the last word on the subject. Some critics complain that we’ve already lavished way too much attention on the eccentric singer who labeled himself the “king of pop.” But I don’t think so.
True, the coverage, particularly on cable and network news, has been excessive, with repeated interviews of anyone remotely associated with Jackson. A CNN interview with his father, Joe, at the BET Awards was a study in awkwardness.
But I can’t stop watching it.
I have been glued to the TV for days to glean every obscure Jackson tidbit. I’ve pulled out old Jackson CDs and downloaded songs from iTunes. I’ve sung “Rock with You” and “Man in the Mirror” at the top of my lungs while driving around town. (Thankfully the windows were rolled up.) I even incorporated some Jackson hits into an exercise class I teach at the Downtown and Trotter YMCAs. (Several class participants thanked me afterward.)
The obsession has surprised me, because when Jackson was alive, his weird and tragic life seemed like old news. But his death has caused many people to focus on his music and reflect on their past. One television commentator summed it up best when he said of Jackson’s music, “It really is the soundtrack of our lives.”
Most of us associate music with good times, and over a nearly 40-year-period, Jackson’s songs have made us incredibly happy. The bubble gum songs of the early 1970s, like “I Want You Back” and “ABC,” have an infectious beat. Jackson’s first huge solo album, “Off the Wall,” released in 1979, spawned such hummable hits as “Don’t Stop ‘til You Get Enough” and “She’s Out of My Life.” “It closed out the disco era perfectly,” one friend explained.
“Thriller” cemented Jackson’s reputation as a musical genius, and even his creepy behavior and such subsequent musical clunkers as “Bad” (can we really accept Jackson as street thug?) and “The Girl is Mine” (a ridiculous duet with Paul McCartney) couldn’t erase the transformative powers of that 1982 album.
Besides the music, Jackson’s amazing dance moves, shown constantly on the then fledgling MTV network, remain fresh 25 years after the “Thriller” video was released. He cribbed from such diverse sources as James Brown and Fred Astaire (one recent TV segment showed side-by-side, split screen images of Jackson and Astaire, each tipping their hat at the same time) and personalized street dance moves like the “moonwalk” and the “circle slide.”
Jackson is also being hailed as a style icon, but I’m not so sure about that. His jeweled glove has been widely imitated — Beyonce will showcase a high-tech glove in her Saturday concert at the Toyota Center — but the Jheri curl and decorated military jackets haven’t had staying power.
Farrah forever
It could be argued that another style icon — Farrah Fawcett — had a more lasting fashion impact, particularly among baby boomers. The feathered “Farrah cut” immediately evokes strong images for anyone old enough to have come of age in the late 1970s.
The actress and pop culture icon died just hours before Jackson after a long battle with cancer. On any other week, her death would have dominated news coverage and she would have been a shoo-in for the cover of People magazine.
She joins a select group of top celebrities whose deaths have been overshadowed by someone even more famous. Legendary comedian Groucho Marx passed away the same week as Elvis Presley in 1977. Mother Teresa died within a few days of Princess Diana in 1997. The news world was focused on the death and funeral of Ronald Reagan when Ray Charles died in 2004. And James Brown, the great soul singer who inspired Jackson’s dance moves, passed away in 2006 soon after another former president, Gerald Ford.
When it comes to death coverage, it seems the hierarchy is this: A few select icons trump presidents who trump just about everyone else.
I’m sorry that Jackson’s death eclipsed the coverage of Fawcett’s passing, because she triumphed over life’s challenges in ways that he never could.
As a lead on the hit 1976 show, “Charlie’s Angels,” Fawcett became an unlikely feminist icon. Though the show seems dated now and silly — the Angels often wore skimpy swimsuits or form-fitting jump suits while fighting criminals — it was a ground-breaking example that women could do whatever they wanted.
That same year, a poster of Fawcett in a one-piece swimsuit and a blinding smile became the iconic image for a generation. Fresh, athletic and slightly scandalous, with the imprint of a nipple showing through the bathing suit, the image found a home on the walls of teenage boys everywhere and inspired teenage girls to emulate her look (minus the nipple imprint).
But Fawcett wasn’t content to be simply a sex symbol. The Corpus Christi native, whose parents lived in Houston, quit “Angels” after a year and embarked on a quest to be taken seriously as an actress. She gained credibility with a riveting portrayal as an abused wife who murders her husband in the 1984 TV movie “The Burning Bed.”
But Fawcett’s most lasting legacy may be her decision to create a “video diary” of her struggle with cancer. Her friend, Alana Stewart, followed her with a camera from the moment she was diagnosed with anal cancer in 2006 to her last days. It’s painful to watch as Fawcett’s health deteriorates. But with a strong spirit, she fights on, even as loses her famous locks as a result of treatment.
Some might argue that the video, which appeared on NBC as a special called “Farrah’s Story,” is exploitive. But I found it to be a powerful look at one woman’s battle with cancer. By not holding back, the glamorous “Angel” became one of us.
Now, that’s real staying power.
True, the coverage, particularly on cable and network news, has been excessive, with repeated interviews of anyone remotely associated with Jackson. A CNN interview with his father, Joe, at the BET Awards was a study in awkwardness.
But I can’t stop watching it.
I have been glued to the TV for days to glean every obscure Jackson tidbit. I’ve pulled out old Jackson CDs and downloaded songs from iTunes. I’ve sung “Rock with You” and “Man in the Mirror” at the top of my lungs while driving around town. (Thankfully the windows were rolled up.) I even incorporated some Jackson hits into an exercise class I teach at the Downtown and Trotter YMCAs. (Several class participants thanked me afterward.)
The obsession has surprised me, because when Jackson was alive, his weird and tragic life seemed like old news. But his death has caused many people to focus on his music and reflect on their past. One television commentator summed it up best when he said of Jackson’s music, “It really is the soundtrack of our lives.”
Most of us associate music with good times, and over a nearly 40-year-period, Jackson’s songs have made us incredibly happy. The bubble gum songs of the early 1970s, like “I Want You Back” and “ABC,” have an infectious beat. Jackson’s first huge solo album, “Off the Wall,” released in 1979, spawned such hummable hits as “Don’t Stop ‘til You Get Enough” and “She’s Out of My Life.” “It closed out the disco era perfectly,” one friend explained.
“Thriller” cemented Jackson’s reputation as a musical genius, and even his creepy behavior and such subsequent musical clunkers as “Bad” (can we really accept Jackson as street thug?) and “The Girl is Mine” (a ridiculous duet with Paul McCartney) couldn’t erase the transformative powers of that 1982 album.
Besides the music, Jackson’s amazing dance moves, shown constantly on the then fledgling MTV network, remain fresh 25 years after the “Thriller” video was released. He cribbed from such diverse sources as James Brown and Fred Astaire (one recent TV segment showed side-by-side, split screen images of Jackson and Astaire, each tipping their hat at the same time) and personalized street dance moves like the “moonwalk” and the “circle slide.”
Jackson is also being hailed as a style icon, but I’m not so sure about that. His jeweled glove has been widely imitated — Beyonce will showcase a high-tech glove in her Saturday concert at the Toyota Center — but the Jheri curl and decorated military jackets haven’t had staying power.
Farrah forever
It could be argued that another style icon — Farrah Fawcett — had a more lasting fashion impact, particularly among baby boomers. The feathered “Farrah cut” immediately evokes strong images for anyone old enough to have come of age in the late 1970s.
The actress and pop culture icon died just hours before Jackson after a long battle with cancer. On any other week, her death would have dominated news coverage and she would have been a shoo-in for the cover of People magazine.
She joins a select group of top celebrities whose deaths have been overshadowed by someone even more famous. Legendary comedian Groucho Marx passed away the same week as Elvis Presley in 1977. Mother Teresa died within a few days of Princess Diana in 1997. The news world was focused on the death and funeral of Ronald Reagan when Ray Charles died in 2004. And James Brown, the great soul singer who inspired Jackson’s dance moves, passed away in 2006 soon after another former president, Gerald Ford.
When it comes to death coverage, it seems the hierarchy is this: A few select icons trump presidents who trump just about everyone else.
I’m sorry that Jackson’s death eclipsed the coverage of Fawcett’s passing, because she triumphed over life’s challenges in ways that he never could.
As a lead on the hit 1976 show, “Charlie’s Angels,” Fawcett became an unlikely feminist icon. Though the show seems dated now and silly — the Angels often wore skimpy swimsuits or form-fitting jump suits while fighting criminals — it was a ground-breaking example that women could do whatever they wanted.
That same year, a poster of Fawcett in a one-piece swimsuit and a blinding smile became the iconic image for a generation. Fresh, athletic and slightly scandalous, with the imprint of a nipple showing through the bathing suit, the image found a home on the walls of teenage boys everywhere and inspired teenage girls to emulate her look (minus the nipple imprint).
But Fawcett wasn’t content to be simply a sex symbol. The Corpus Christi native, whose parents lived in Houston, quit “Angels” after a year and embarked on a quest to be taken seriously as an actress. She gained credibility with a riveting portrayal as an abused wife who murders her husband in the 1984 TV movie “The Burning Bed.”
But Fawcett’s most lasting legacy may be her decision to create a “video diary” of her struggle with cancer. Her friend, Alana Stewart, followed her with a camera from the moment she was diagnosed with anal cancer in 2006 to her last days. It’s painful to watch as Fawcett’s health deteriorates. But with a strong spirit, she fights on, even as loses her famous locks as a result of treatment.
Some might argue that the video, which appeared on NBC as a special called “Farrah’s Story,” is exploitive. But I found it to be a powerful look at one woman’s battle with cancer. By not holding back, the glamorous “Angel” became one of us.
Now, that’s real staying power.
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