Every year on my birthday, I always do an unhealthy tally of things that I didn't have to deal with the year before. When I was 25, I got my first gray hair. At 26, my alcohol tolerance plummeted. At 27, that one gray hair decided to multiply to a point where I have too many to count. At 28, those fine lines at the corners of my eyes started showing up. In anticipation of my 29th birthday, my right shoulder has decided to start hurting inexplicably. I swear, if my boobs start sagging next year, I'm done.
But on the other hand, birthdays are also great for tallying all the strengths that I couldn't have claimed the year before. In this last year, I was able to give love another chance after having had my heart torn to shreds. I was able to bounce back even after that new chance proved to be disappointing as well. I went through my first stab at the academic job market and didn't let it destroy me. I taught my first upper division class, as well as my first lecture class of 200 students. I submitted an article for publication. I discovered that I'm a very effective public speaker. I discovered that I'm quite talented at political organizing. I had the joy of witnessing friends get married, start jobs, and start families. I witnessed my baby brother become a grown-up (almost). I learned to appreciate my parents in a way I never have before.
So one of the many annoying documents I have to prepare for applying to tenure track positions is something that serves as "evidence of teaching ability." I think this means that they want to see a sampling of my teaching evaluations.
I'm resisting the urge to include the two evals that said, in response to the question of whether or not the student had any additional comments or suggestions for the class, "You're cute," and "I like you ♥."
I watched This Is It last week on the day that it opened. (Yes, I had gotten tickets in advance, thanks to my roommate. Yes, I went dressed in my best military-inspired jacket. Yes, I took pictures in front of the standee at the theater.) I had been afraid that the movie was going to be an exploitative attempt to deify Michael Jackson, but it turned out to be a pitch-perfect, incredibly focused documentary on Michael Jackson as a craftsman. And I use the word "craft" instead of "talent," because I want to draw attention to the fact that while Jackson's talent certainly seemed otherworldly, his body of work in both dance and music clearly represent a man who understood that art is exceedingly technical. It's about figuring out patterns, putting together bits and pieces to make a coherent whole, and paying meticulous attention to detail. Everything is strategic, and nothing is accidental.
Take, for example, his song, "Man in the Mirror," which might be my favorite. Pop music doesn't often get much credit for being great art, and I think that's unfair. When you break this song down into all of its parts, it is clearly a carefully crafted piece of work. Jackson and songwriters Siedah Garrett and Glen Ballard (this is one of the very few hits that Jackson didn't write himself) knew exactly how to create the effect they were going for.
We start the first verse with the vocal, sung over a simple tap on beats 2 and 4. This evokes the image of a single person with nothing to accompany him but the snap of his own fingers. At about :18, the backing vocal comes in, offering us an additional layer and harmonizing with the main vocal on "It's gonna feel real good, gonna make a difference." But then the backing vocal lifts and it's just the main vocal on, "gonna make it right." At about :28 the drum and bass drum come in. The bass drum is on beats 1 and 2, and the drum is a rim-shot that comes on beat 4. So all the beats are now filled in, and we get a sort of forward-driving momentum, but we still have room to build.
At :48, the synthesized strings come in, and along with the sustained notes accented by the back-up vocals, the song escalates to the first chorus on 1:06. At this point the cowbell comes in along with the rim-shot on beats 2 and 4, the typical pop song backbeat. The bass also comes in and does a slight escalating chromatic scale on "No message could have been any clearer." The bass then drops to a low note on 1:21 to set the stage for the song's main message: "If you want to make the world a better place, take a look at yourself and make a change." The drums come in full with a full snare to emphasize the word "change."
The strings from the first verse, which had offered an airy sound by hovering above the vocal, drop a couple octaves in the second. This anchors the vocal, and gives the verse a more grounded feel and a fuller sound. The lyrics replicate this effect as well-- The song begins with Jackson singing about putting on his coat, feeling the wind, and watching kids playing with bottle tops. By the second verse, he's come to full realization of his "selfish love," and is working toward a new way of being. The chorus comes in again, this time with the choir offering a little "who?" in the background. The chorus repeats one more time, with more voices from the choir added.
Then, at the end of the third chorus, at 2:52, the song's most powerful part happens. Jackson sings, "If you want to make the world a better place, take a look at yourself then make that--" There's a slight pause, and then at the exact moment he sings "change," the song modulates up a tone, from (I think) G Major to A. The key change builds the energy of the song even more, getting us excited about the chorus being repeated yet again. The gospel choir comes in full on the word "CHANGE," further emphasizing the idea of transformation. To have the key change occur on the word "change" is just plain brilliant. To have it occur in the middle of a phrase rather than at the start of a new one is totally crafty. This moment is genius. It raises the hairs on the back of my neck every time I hear it.
The song then pushes on with a lushness. A lot of flourishes, like "oohs" and "oh yeahs." We get a full choir with lots of voices. Jackson's vocal gets increasingly improvisational, and the choir is largely still doing backup with the exception of a single female voice, as if it is the audience who is supposed to be supplying the bulk of the melody. (And indeed, we do sing along!) The multitude of voices combined with the opportunity for audience participation is entirely appropriate for a song about human empathy. This climactic ending could have worked just fine for a feel-good song. But we're not done yet. Bit by bit the song peels off its built-up layers, going back to the feel that it established in the beginning. There's a slight piano run right after the "na na na nas" (the only time the piano appears in the song, I think), ushering in a new phase in the song. The choir retreats to a hushed hum at 3:48. The drums also disappear temporarily, leaving us with the finger snaps. Jackson repeats over and over again, "Make that change," "You gotta stand up," "Look at yourself." While the lush chorus had been great for clapping and singing along, here our attention gets completely drawn to Jackson's words. This song doesn't let us go off the hook by making us feel good. It wants us to think about the idea of change. The very end of the song features Jackson almost whispering, "Make that change." Beautiful.
For me, that was the saddest part about watching This Is It-- I could see just how awesome the man was as an artist, how phenomenal that tour would have been, and realized that it took him dying for me to really appreciate having grown up with him in my cultural consciousness. While I certainly grew up listening to Michael Jackson's music, it's only now that I'm revisiting his songs and studying them. And each time I do, I feel like I discover something about them that I hadn't noticed before. It's a fantastic experience. And definitely a testament to his craft.
Some people's lack of sensitivity is mind-boggling to me.
As a rule, if your friend of gajillion years says to you, "My dog just died and I'm at my wit's end trying to hold it together and get all my shit done during this crucial time in my life," your response should not be: "Let me proceed to tell you all about the frivolous things I observed on the vacation I just took."
True