Remember Jackson’s artistry, not his foibles

Before the ugliness begins.

Before the tug-of-war over children and a dwindling estate become a sordid tabloid feast.

Before Michael Jackson's status as the greatest globally revered pop-music superstar in history is overshadowed by toxicology results and the flapping gums of "family friends" who will attest to his self-destructive behavior but never mention why they didn't bother to intervene.

Before any of this occurs in the coming weeks and months, take a few minutes and search YouTube for "Michael Jackson We Are the World solo."

In a 10-minute video shot in 1985, Jackson, in his military regalia and sunglasses, is alone in a Los Angeles studio, taking orders from the disembodied voice of record producer Quincy Jones as they lay down the guide vocal for what would become the star-laden charity single, "We Are the World."

"Quincy?" Jackson asks in his childlike voice, "Do you think I should say you and me or you and I at the end [of the verse]?"

"I like you and me," Jones' voice responds off-camera. "Yeah. It's much more soulful," Jackson agrees and breaks into a wide, genuine smile.

As he runs through numerous, mind-numbing takes of the same portion of the song, he rocks gently to the music. His feet, seemingly of their own resolve, slide in little dance patterns. He even absent-mindedly breaks into a dance pose.

It's worth tracking down this YouTube clip simply to see that, for 10 minutes 24 years ago, Michael Jackson looked happy.

Though his death three days ago was shocking because it was so untimely, as the hours passed, that shock turned into a sort of morbid acceptance that perhaps, Jackson was finally at peace.

After all, he never lived a normal life, so why should he have experienced a normal death?

His singing career began at age 6 when he joined his siblings' haphazard Jackson Brothers band. He became a vagabond showbiz kid by 8, traveling the chitlin circuit as part of The Jackson 5, his life a blur of choreographed dance moves and unyielding instructions from his -- by all accounts -- physically overbearing father.

In the'80s, Jackson achieved the kind of supernova success that no human, no matter how stable, could accept and understand -- a mental and emotional overload that eventually triggered freak show antics guaranteed to memorialize him as the P.T. Barnum of pop music.

But even though Jackson engineered many of the silly side shows -- Bubbles the chimp, his melting facial features, a mystifying marriage to Lisa Marie Presley -- and invited controversy and lawsuits because of his predilection for close friendships with young boys, right now, he deserves to be revered for the talents that preceded the nonsense.

The term "genius," whether musical or creative or both, is flung around frequently in the pop-music universe. But aside from a handful of truly innovative names -- Elvis, The Beatles, Madonna, Prince -- it doesn't quite apply.

Jackson easily tops that list.

His dance moves were born from a spry imagination and a bloodline that flowed with rhythm. His music transcended race -- a monumental accomplishment at the birth of MTV.

Listen to the energy in his little-boy falsetto as it bounds over the taut bass line of "I Want You Back." Feel Jackson's fragile ache as he chokes up at the end of "She's Out of My Life." Try to erase the skittering shuffle of "Wanna Be Startin' Somethin'" or the sinewy tension that introduces "Billie Jean" from your memory. Even though he ceased being musically relevant after 1991's "Dangerous," Jackson contributed to four decades of some of the most enduring music in pop and R&B. And, despite his musical decline, his standing as a pop culture icon -- as well as juicy fodder for late-night talk-show punch lines -- never diminished. Turn on any current radio station at any moment and you'll likely hear some strain -- maybe it's faint, maybe it's blatant -- of Jackson's influence.

Without Jackson, there may still have been a Justin Timberlake, but who knows how he might sound? The same is true of Usher. Chris Brown. Ne-Yo. The Black Eyed Peas. Beyoncé. Robin Thicke.

Rock bands from Fall Out Boy to Alien Ant Farm have covered Jackson's songs. Rappers such as Ice Cube and Public Enemy have sampled them. Weird Al Yankovic's most memorable parodies were fashioned from "Beat It" and "Bad."

The flat-out weirdness that coated Jackson with an unwashable taint doesn't negate the fact that his musical legacy is, without argument, unparalleled. So before his achievements are eclipsed by his personal transgressions, remember when Jackson was inventive and vital. Remember how he helped revolutionize pop music. Remember his sequined glove and tipped fedora, his style that spawned millions of imitators because of its unconventionality.

None of that died with him.

Contact Melissa Ruggieri at (804) 649-6120 or .