The Jackson Jive

by A.D. Amorosi

Forget about gloves, monkeys, his relationship with Liza Minelli and surgical masks: The weirdest thing Michael Jackson’s ever done was hang in Harlem.

During the Rev. Al Sharpton's National Action Network gathering to investigate black artist exploitation in the record biz, Jackson -- an industry giant who ruled charts and airwaves in the '80s -- blasted said industry as a "racist" network conspiracy meant to turn profit at the expense of black performers.

Jackson damned Sony chairman Tommy Mottola -- the man who runs Jackson's label -- as "mean ... racist and ... very, very, very devilish."

Jackson accused Mottola of using the "n-word" about an unidentified black artist. He pointed at James Brown and Mariah Carey as exploited and underpromoted and included his failed last, Invincible, as further proof.

Then, while standing outside of Sony HQ, he held a sign -- supposedly made by fans -- with boxes marked "The Good, The Bad and The Ugly." Jackson's face appeared as "The Good," Mottola's face portrayed with devil horns was "The Bad," and Mottola's real image glued onto a box was "The Ugly."

Barring that people didn't want god-awful Invincible despite Sony sinking $25 million into its promotion and that kids probably don't have a color photograph of Mottola around their house, that debacle signaled the end of Michael Jackson. True career suicide -- a public hara-kiri not witnessed since Yukio Mishima sworded himself as fatal art.

It's true. Black artists have been financially savaged by the recording industry. Its history is documented and, in too-few cases, fought against. Michael Jackson ain't one of those cases.

He's long been music's highest-paid act -- receiving half of what Sony earns on sales (industry rate is between 12 percent and 24 percent, tops) -- and he'll get reversion rights in 2010 wherein he can sell his music to the highest bidders (labels usually own recordings made under them forever); Sony ponies up sky-high advances for video and recording fees.

All that and Jackson still can't sell Thriller's numbers.

Jackson's downward-spiraling sales mark him a pariah (not Mariah). Even worse is that he's a stagnant pariah. Change, of any kind, is better than stagnancy in the music biz. Leaving Sony and starting over at another label without his masters -- recordings that he'd love to negotiate -- leaves him with nothing but a fedora to hold. So he's crying poor.

Equally ludicrous is that Jackson would call Mottola racist. Along with promoting black acts and having spent a long pre-Sony career managing mixed racial acts that rarely filled his coffers, Mottola was married to Mariah Carey -- a woman of mixed ethnicity. Despite going through a divorce, Mottola sought big sales for her. Like any businessman, what counts is green. If Mottola could've sold a video of Mariah boning Derek Jeter, he would've.

Even more wack is Jackson's current acknowledgement of being black.

I'm not disparaging his birthright or how he raised Afro-consciousness by breaking the race barrier of MTV airplay.

I'm questioning why he turned his cheek from blackness and then conveniently reconvened it when it suited him.

The L.A. Times reports Jackson spurned all but one of the company's requests to promote Invincible and its sweetest R&B tune, "Butterflies," to black radio. Alleged skin whitening? Pixie nose jobs? Anyone who knows the makeup I've worn in my life knows I don't care what's done in the name of daily vanity, but after spending 25 years attempting to be Elizabeth Taylor, Jackson's current civil rights crusading is no more than a selfish maneuver to see his fallen star twinkle.

Don't point at Sharpton's association to prove Jackson's sincerity. Sharpton would attach himself to James Earl Ray if it gave him press. And don't look for support from members of the African-American music community. Billboard magazine quotes (July 20) an anonymous black executive: "You could throw a dart at the R&B chart and find almost any artist who would have more resonance on this issue than Michael Jackson."

This anti-American Idol story ain't about Jackson's color. It's about the scabrous vanity of a man who, when wounded by an intemperate public, strikes with an issue crucial to seminal African-American artists, artists who never placed cash flow over birthright or color.

Despite a cameo appearance in Men in Black II, Jackson is not a man of black.

A.D. Amorosi is a freelance writer for the Philadelphia City Paper. If you would like to respond to this Slant or have one of your own (850 words), contact Howard Altman, City Paper executive editor, 123 Chestnut St., third floor, Phila., PA 19106 or e-mail altman@citypaper.net.




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