Michael Jackson's Death Robs Us Of Music's Greatest Icon

I can still remember the morning well. It was like Christmas; awaking with that unique feeling that something special is waiting for you. Except this wasn’t December, there was no decadent tree in my front room or half eaten mince pie - just a video tape sitting in my family’s VHS player.

While I’d been sleeping (I was a mere six-year-old at this point, early nights weren’t by choice), my parents had recorded Michael Jackson’s 1992 concert in Bucharest as it was shown live on a BBC telecast. The spectacle at the city’s National Stadium formed part of Jackson’s Dangerous tour, which would eventually see the star perform to nearly four million fans in 89 concerts around the world.

I was already a huge fan of Jackson at this point – his stage presence, as much as his music, had first captured me at an even earlier age. It was, therefore, at my request that the gig be recorded. But even as a fan I wasn’t quite expecting what unfolded over the course of those two hours in Bucharest.

Jackson’s appearance in the city that night – like the other 88 dates – wasn’t just a pop concert. It was a complete and incomprehensible pop spectacle; the vision of a musician, a dancer and, more fittingly, an entertainer at the top of his game. It was joyously relentless to watch.

As those who watched live (or have since bought the generously edited DVD, which bizarrely includes fan footage from different gigs) will remember, the concert began with an expectant prelude; a video montage of Jackson’s noble charity work and global popularity set to the sound of Carl Orff’s ‘Carmina Burana’.
Jackson, himself, was nowhere to be seen in fact. All that lingered in the air was suspense. And then – pop! - there he was, catapulted onto the stage propelled by hydraulics from 12ft below it.

Seconds turned to minutes; nothing happened. Michael Jackson had arrived, but he didn’t move. When I first watched the tape, I can remember hitting the pause and play buttons repeatedly on my remote convinced the tape was stuck. Jackson was just motionless. Static. And then – swish! – he moved his head. It was a simple, innate move, yet one that, when performed by the singer, managed to make (mostly female) sections of the 70,000 crowd buckle under their own bodyweight. Unconscious fans were flung into the arms of security guards, but again Jackson stood still. Oblivious. It was only when the silence had completely filled the National Stadium that Jackson removed his sunglasses in anticipation of the opening song.

And then he was off. The military routines of ‘Jam’ scythed into the Motown grooves of ‘Wanna Be Startin’ Something’, which soon became ‘Human Nature’ and ‘Smooth Criminal’. The performance was inexorable hit after inexorable hit, but throughout Jackson looked vigorously untouchable. It was just another day at the office.

By the time the opening door creeks of ‘Thriller’ arrived, he had adopted the head of a werewolf in homage his infamous 1980s music video for the song. Then, of course, came the diamond glove for ‘Billie Jean’, which is worth buying the DVD for alone. Featuring arguably the greatest solo dance routine of all time, it shows Jackson in full flight, complete, on this occasion, with two moonwalks.

Michael Jackson performs 'Billie Jean' in Bucharest in 1992.

Towards the end of the concert in Bucharest the spectacles simply grew in magnitude. The stage split in half during ‘Heal The World’, a giant arm carried the singer above his fans in ‘Beat It’ and a jet pack propelled Jackson well and truly into orbit during finale ‘Man In The Mirror’. Literally.

Throughout, it was impossible to take your eyes off him. And that, on the day the world wakes up to the King of Pop’s death, was the factor most integral to Jackson’s whole career. Whether it was watching his live shows, listening to his music or seeing him flee a brigade of paparazzi on a Los Angeles street with his children in tow, you just couldn’t take your eyes of Michael Jackson. You were afraid to. Just think what you might have missed out on.