Jewish World Review July 18, 2002 /9 Menachem-Av 5762
This revelation dawned on me while watching the new science fiction comedy hit, "Men in Black II." One of the best gags in the movie is a surprise walk-on appearance by Jackson, who wants to join the "MIB" crime fighters as "Agent M" under an affirmative action program for aliens.
The big unspoken gag in the scene is that Jackson does not need any extra makeup to play an alien. Har, har.
Yes, people make fun of multimillionaire Michael for lightening his skin (he says he has vitiligo), carving his nose to a pixie point and possibly rebuilding his chin and cheekbones. Hey, maybe we are seeing the real Michael and we just didn't know it.
Sure, I am speculating. But it explains so much. Maybe Jackson really learned his "moonwalk" on the moon. Maybe he really does talk to those animals on his "Neverland" ranch. Maybe his precisely timed, high-pitched "whooo!" and spins -- like a flying saucer -- are secret signals to the rest of his people in another galaxy.
The possibility that Jackson actually comes from another planet might begin to explain why he expected us to believe he really was a victim of racism by Sony head and former Jackson pal Tommy Mottola.
The charge surprised many since, besides backing numerous black stars, Mottola used to be married to the biracial diva Mariah Carey, which makes his racism a decidedly selective kind.
Or maybe Michael really means that Mottola discriminates against interplanetary aliens.
Even the Rev. Al Sharpton didn't want to go there. That's saying something, since Sharpton, a presidential hopeful and no shrinking violet when it comes to playing the race card, was standing next to Jackson when "Wacko Jacko," as some wacky New York tabloids call him, made the charge in Sharpton's National Action Network headquarters in Harlem.
Sharpton said he was "taken aback and surprised" by Jackson's verbal assault and defended Mottola as a staunch supporter of black artists.
Jackson presented him self as the latest in the recording industry's long sad history of exploiting black artists with greedy deals that left many penniless. But it was far from clear as to just what Jackson was going to do for exploited black artists, other than to try to avoid becoming one of them himself.
Far from penniless, Jackson claimed Sony inadequately promoted his latest album, "Invincible," even though the company reportedly poured more than $25 million into promoting the album -- on top of $30 million in production costs. If that is "racism," it's the kind many people would be delighted to suffer.
Alas, the album sold only a reported 2 million copies in the United States and 6 million worldwide. Only a star of Jackson's stature could be disappointed by those sales. It was a hit and, in my humble opinion, deserved to be. As they used to say on "American Bandstand" (ask your grandparents, kids), it's got a good beat and you can dance to it.
Sure, the album hardly matched "Thriller," which sold 51 million copies worldwide, making it the biggest pop record of all time.
Perhaps a young female fan of the 43-year-old Jackson in Harlem had it right when she told a reporter, "I guess he's just - he's an older person, and his music speaks his age." That stings those of us who like to think of Michael as forever young. But even superstars eventually flame out.
Besides trivializing the very real problem of racism, Jackson's outburst obscures some very real issues in the record industry.
Artists as varied as Prince, Courtney Love, Don Henley, Madonna and Bruce Springsteen have complained that they toil as virtual slaves under multi-year contracts actors and other performers don't have to tolerate. The record companies say they're taking big risks with untested performers and need not only to make their money back but also to make money that can be rolled over to give other untested artists a chance.
More than 100 big-name stars have formed the Recording Artists Coalition to lobby Congress for reforms, including better health-care benefits and accounting procedures.
One way or another, I expect the stars' lawyers and lobbyists to work things out. In the meantime, there's a bigger problem looming like a Death Star over all of them: a sharp decline in CD sales.
A lot of music fans, dissatisfied with paying for what the stores are offering, are downloading or borrowing recordings and burning their own CD copies. As one industry exec put it, the artists and companies are fighting over deck chairs while their ship is headed toward an iceberg.
Ultimately, consumers have the last word. If a product is good, people will buy it.
Or, as they used to say in the slogan of Motown Records, Jackson's first label, "It's what's in the groove that counts," even in the age of CDs.
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