by Brandon Rees on September 28, 2009
This memory was kindly sent in by Shubha, a visitor to this blog. Shubha’s story makes really interesting reading. Thanks for sending it in!
Hi Brandon,
I am a bit late, but nevertheless, when I read about Michael Jackson memories in your website today, I thought I had to contribute to it.
My Michael Jackson memory is kind of sad, yet it would be something I would cherish all my life.
I was born in a South Asian country. Having grown up in a small town where the western influence isn’t large, western music wasn’t something I really knew.
Still, I had heard of Michael Jackson. I had seen my cousins who lived in big cities attempting moonwalks and anti-gravity leans (falling down to ground! hahaa).
I kept hearing Michael Jackson’s name now and then, in contexts of dance, music, charities, controversies- but never paid much attention to him.
[read more…]
by Brandon Rees on August 8, 2009
You already know by now how the Motown 25 anniversary broadcast affected me. Like anybody else who saw Michael Jackson’s performance I was totally blown away by what I saw. Michael’s moonwalk (even though we didn’t know it as such at that point) was simply awesome.
So I practiced. I practiced a lot. Little was I to know just how much respect this was going to get me… [read more…]
by Brandon Rees on August 4, 2009
One of my clearest memories of the summer of 1983, aged 11, was my friend Trevor and I cruising the streets, ghetto-blaster on our shoulders pumping out Michael Jackson Thriller. It’s not quite as grand as it sounds…
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by Brandon Rees on August 2, 2009
The Summer of 1985 is forever etched in my mind as roasting hot. Hot enough to wear shorts all summer long. Hot enough to fry eggs on the pavement.
Hot enough, even, to melt down prized Jacksons vinyl albums.
[read more…]
by Brandon Rees on August 1, 2009
I was brought up in a working class family that prided itself on honour and decency. We were vaguely religious – that is, we went to the local Catholic church at the end of our street every Sunday at least.
I was a good lad, generally – respectful to my elders, didn’t swear (at least in front of the elders), didn’t steal.
Well, at least, I hadn’t stolen anything: until this moment.
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by Brandon Rees on July 29, 2009
In July 1984 I was hit full on by a speeding car. I still bear the scars now and the reason for the crash remains fresh in my mind: Michael Jackson.
It was the days when school summer holidays lasted an eternity. I was 11 (nearly 12) and already by the 2nd week of the holidays, my friend Steven Blackmore and I had developed a serious shared Michael Jackson obsession.
[read more…]
by Brandon Rees on July 27, 2009
If we’d only have carried on listening to The Jacksons, I wouldn’t have got into so much trouble…
6 years old and thoroughly bored. That was me and my mate, Simon Allerthorpe. Summer 1978. One of those interminably long school summer holidays that seem to go on forever and ever.
I remember the scene as clear as day.
Mum and Dad weren’t keen on Simon. They thought he was a ‘bad lad’, a bad influence, that he only ever led to trouble.
So it was odd this day that’d they’d both happily left us in the house to our own devices while they headed into town for a bit of shopping.
[read more…]
by Brandon Rees on July 26, 2009
Like most people, the day I first saw Michael Jackson moonwalk is forever etched on my brain.
I was only 10 years old – March 1983 – I was staying at my Grandma’s house. Well – I say ‘Grandma’ so most people will know what I mean. To me, she was Nana.
It’s not an understatement to say that I simply loved staying at Nana and Grandad’s. It was a rare treat that I adored. I got to stay up till whenever I liked; eat whatever I liked; and the ‘goodies’ drawer was always full of Cadbury’s Fudge!
More importantly, it was there, unlike at home, that I was accepted for who I was.
At the time, my Uncle lived with them too. He’d just been booted out of divorce #3 and, luckily for me, had decided to bring back his entire record collection. It was huge, and very very eclectic.
My Uncle was into pretty much everything, but he did have a soft spot for Motown. I spent days as a kid just raking through his treasure chest of original 7″ Motown vinyl. Generously, he allowed the 10 year-old me to play whatever I liked and I took the chance whenever I could
On TV that night was Motown 25, a rather glitzy celebration of 25 years of Motown Records that my Uncle wanted to watch. I couldn’t possibly have prepared for what I saw.
I do recall knowing that Michael would be making an appearance with his brothers, The Jacksons, but I seem to remember Michael’s solo spot with Billie Jean being a surprise.
Of course, I was hugely excited – I mean, this was at the time that Thriller was on constant rotation on my tape player – but the moment Michael broke into the moonwalk (though I didn’t know that’s what it was called at that time) was one of the jaw-dropping moments of my life I’ll remember forever.
But more importantly, I’ll remember it as one of the many moments I’ll treasure forever from being at Nana and Grandad’s. Their unconditional shared enthusiasm for what made me tick – on this occasion, Michael’s legendary amazing moonwalk – will stay with me forever.
Seeing that footage to this day sends me right back to basking in the happiness of that moment. I’ll treasure it forever.
by Brandon Rees on July 24, 2009
My previous post mentioned how I’d got hold of my first (of many) copies of Thriller by taping it from my mate Trevor.
Trevor and I were inseparable for about 5 years, I like to think because of our shared love of music: we went through several distinct phases: hip hop, acid house, soul. But we always had a common thread in Michael Jackson.
We’d copied the tape from Trevor’s rickety little vinyl record player (remember those?) which had a tape section. The kind that was so badly constructed that every thump and crank of the controls on the thing would be recorded by the cassette bit and then amplified tenfold.
Thump. Pop. Bang.
Listening to that tape (over and over again) there was a bit of the music that skipped: right at the end of Eddie Van Halen’s guitar solo in Beat It. Trevor’s vinyl copy was already worn out when I got to tape it and the already antiquated record player didn’t help.
To this day, whenever I hear Beat It, I fully expect to hear that skip at that exact point: 26 years later. In fact, it’s almost as if the track doesn’t sound right to me if it doesn’t suddenly jolt you into the middle of the chorus before the solo’s ended.
by Brandon Rees on July 23, 2009
The summer of 1983 stands out in my mind for one reason, and one reason only.
Michael Jackson Thriller
My strongest memory of the whole of that season was simply not being able to get enough of Michael Jackon’s Thriller. I was insatiable.
At first, I only had it on cassette (taped from my mate Trevor, who at the time was my guide for all things music and fashion) but I played it to death, literally till the tape wore out.
The memory’s so strong: partly because in thinking of that summer I immediately clearly remember almost every detail of the cheap battery-powered single speaker Bush tape player I pushed to the very limit; and partly because I remember so vividly the anger it seemed to whip up in my mother! I remember her absolutely blazing, screaming at me to “turn that damn thing off, just for once!”
I guess I did play Thriller a lot that summer 