Michael Jackson madness in LA
Monday, June 29th, 2009
Ok, so we Brits are well known for making mountains out of death molehills (still mortified on behalf of my fellow countrymen’s ridiculous panto grief at Diana), and we do so love a conspiracy theory (read any front page of The Daily Express newspaper and you’d be forgiven for believing that Lady Di was offed by a combo of Arabs and paps / isn’t dead at all but living in bliss with Dodi on a private island anchored to Elvis’ backlot), but the Jacko mania sweeping LA at the mo is threatening to put our paltry grey attempts at sensationalism deeper in the shade than Heather Mills’s career.
Having been in LA for over a week, and actually being moments away from UCLA on the day he was admitted, I’ve been more than well placed to witness the emerging theories and mongering at source.
OK, the dude was already on his last legs – did you see the nick of him at the online conference to announce his UK dates? Why can’t you accept that he was jiggered, knackered, riddled with drugs and absolutely beat by the relentless treadmill of his life and treatment by the very same clowns who are now filling our screens 24/7 with their simpering obits and fawning appraisals.
So ‘devastated’ are these news channels, that they’ve resorted to creating ridiculous theories about his final hours, hounding the poor doctor who was with him at the time of death and trotting out sorry assed career losers claiming to have the inside track on Jacko’s state of mind before his departure.
Can anyone explain why we need to hear Miley Cyrus’s thoughts on his passing? Why the promoters from the UK concerts could possible be interested in offing him? Why Kendra and her new reality show are allowed to have an opinion? And why there seem to have been 24 hour Jacko channels set up to ‘honour’ his name and shift advertising.
The man had a dodgy end to his career, but is that really a good enough reason to profit by association after he’s gone? The view from where I’m sat in LA is not celebratory, but maudlin and tawdry. Let him rest in peace and MOVE ON guys…….
oh – and bets are open on how long liz taylor will stick around now….. nice.









Apart from the fact that there is an increasing number of folk who, like me, are slightly grossed out by Iggy, who still don’t get the fuss about The Zutons and who could go the rest of their born days without hearing another spew of spittle soaked mockney bile from Lydon and his deeply un Sexy Pistols. Yeah, apart from THAT, the festival wasn’t half bad. Now it may have been the liberal jugs of Pimms available on site, but we found ourselves actually enjoying a NERD set, with Pharrell managing to inject some humour and charisma into his tiny unsmiling frame, and at least four recognisable from the original songs making their way over the heads of the arena. Oddly, The Wombats also managed to reach the increasingly rowdy fans (I blame the free drink pavilions that looked over the arena crowd) whilst as usual The Kooks succeeded in taking an open and happy crowd and sending them all off to the burger stands during their set.
One thing – if you’re the headline act who’s taken the lucre for an appearance, and justified it in some convoluted inversion of your original manifesto, surely you would at least repay your loyal fans by spending some of the fee on a few lights and a bit of a show? Given your vocal performance and staged bile no longer cut the mustard, a few strobes and bit of dry ice wouldn’t break the bank would it? So why did Lydon and co ask us to crown an otherwise great days’ music with lukewarm delivery and 8 60 watt bulbs framing the stage?…something to dwell on as you wait on your bus home….


