Valencia. A few days ago it was ten years since the death of Michael Jackson. Most of the articles published to remember him emphasized his most notorious facet or rejoiced in the most cruel details of his death. I would add, "as at the time we hadn't had enough", but the phrase is void by today's conditions. Of course we didn't have enough, how we would get enough if we almost forgot it, it didn't hurt us to update our memory. With little data. With a little sordid photo that was not published at that time. With a little opportunistic book. Or with a documentary digging in the garbage. And in the end it's so important. The dimensions of the tragedy, the spectacular of a decline, the ability to cling to the worst suspicions. All that in the artist's lifetime It was less important, but when the subject is clear, wide Castilla.
The first time I read the lyrics to "It is Only Rock & Roll (but I like it)" from Rolling StonesI was beaten by the first verses. If I could hold a pen in my heart and it hit the stage, would you be happy? Would it slip over you? Mick Jagger I was very aware that the public is a cannibal entity. And we were just 1974 when he wrote it. Nearly half a century later, the boundaries of the show become more diffuse, and so often we can see that music unconsciously gives us the same thing as death. Michael Jackson was the second-last death of a great star that ended up being a sensational chronicle of interplanetary levels. Hans was monumental, but a little more than two years later, Amy Winehouse He also gave success for the consequences of his own life and the circus raised his tent. There are stars and celebrities who cannot choose a way to die and can only make it public. There are many ways to leave here much more horrible than to stop suffocating from success. But the idea that the last few hours come to know that there is a dozen paparazzi hidden in the garden of your garden and legions of the brainless ready to say goodbye to a series of evil and cliché does not cease to be a very sad perspective
Michael Jackson went hand in hand with Propofol and Michael Jackson was over. It was a crying corpse, for it is clear that in many cases it is to calm down, to see who is crying higher, with more regret. I ended up falling well because his megalomania was far surpassing his artistic fruits, for from badly – It wasn't even the surprise that was Thriller– The case became increasingly annoying: a self-proclaimed artist as a pop king with all his media power to defend his faith. When the first minor's complaint was made public, the case went from grotesque to disturbing. It has always been difficult for me to believe that he was innocent of what he was accused of, and I was also abducted by the tearful parents who allowed their children to spend the night with an adult because he was known and millionaire. So the sewage noise in the drain is increasing intensity, and that Jackson's death was before the emergence of social networks.
Although his was a case radically different from Jackson, Bowie, he knew how to make his death and turn it into silence. Once far from this world, if your relatives know how to protect themselves from what inevitably comes, everything doesn't matter. At least be able to leave without having to hear gossip of gossip, something that didn't get Jackson or Winehouse. the The death of both is closely related to the pressure of the insatiable public who wants music, wants art, wants intimacy, and, if possible, some guts that slide down the stage, as Jagger wrote. Yes, Jackson was suspected of committing offenses, but when the time came for him to Prince, in addition to using an ego as an obelisk did not commit greater crimes against humanity, it was also who took the opportunity to take out the dirty cloth on the balcony. What would have happened if Kurt Cobain would have taken their lives with us all, users of social networks, sitting in front of the computer keyboard? A fact already in itself sad and painful, reinforced and distorted, turned into a topic of discussion for thousands of people who will be distracted by another question the day after tomorrow, regardless. Upset at the end of a series or brimming with the new album by an important artist.
I imagine that all of these circumstances are implicit in the fact that they become public figures. In someone who has to pay the price of the success of their success with an extra effort to let them continue to have their own life. It happened Marilyn Monroe. It happened Elvis. Above all, it happened Lennonwho was a direct victim of fame for not being killed by legal drugs, he was killed by an unbalanced man who wanted to kill celebrities. In particular, this case is infinitely more tragic if we take into account that his friend Bowie, who was also on the list of goals by Mark Chapman, a few months earlier played a song – "There is no game Pt 1" that said, "Put a bullet in my head and it will show up in all newspapers". Cobain was killed by a cocktail of emotions that included cohabitation with disgust with popularity. Because popularity, especially if it is global, makes you thousands of different people, who may look more or less like you, but who is not what you are. And that means that thousands of people want something from you that requires you to give them. Owns the public. For anyone who can handle it, it should not be a bad plan. For anyone who, despite having money and power, is as vulnerable as all mortals, it must be an insufficient nightmare.