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Showing posts with label Michael Jackson. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Michael Jackson. Show all posts
Tuesday, May 19, 2015
Thursday, October 29, 2009
This is not it
While audiences across the whole world are awestruck by the This is it performance and disbelief that Michael Jackson is no more, many fans are finding it hard to believe that he was so overused to bring in extra bucks for the companies behind the come back tour. Though the propaganda may be questionable, this video from This Is Not It speaks a lot.
The controversies would never die down as long as they get the kick out of it. Who cares? MJ lives on.
The controversies would never die down as long as they get the kick out of it. Who cares? MJ lives on.
Saturday, July 11, 2009
Marketing Jackson
Jackson was a perfectionist with a keen sense of protecting his image, said marketing executive Jay Coleman, who used Jackson's star power to sell soda in Pepsi ads in the 1980s.
"When we would present storyboards to him from Pepsi, he got very involved," said Coleman, the founder and chief executive of Entertainment Marketing and Communications Inc. "He wanted to make sure that everything was done to the highest production values. He was that kind of guy."
After his mega-hit album "Thriller" in 1982, Jackson was in high demand for endorsements. While Pepsi was ecstatic to get Jackson's endorsement, the pop star had a non-negotiable demand: His face could not appear in the commercial for more than three seconds.
"Initially we were, like, shocked," Coleman recalled. "We were paying $5 million to a star to be in an ad campaign, and he comes to you and he says, 'You can only show my face for three seconds.' Really?"
Instead of Jackson's face, the commercials showed him moonwalking and pictured his famous glove before showing a brief shot of his face.
"Michael had this thing about not wanting to be overexposed, and he convinced us that less was more," Coleman said. "It was a struggle in the beginning, but those commercials worked so brilliantly in part because of his input."
-- PERVAIZ SHALLWANI
"When we would present storyboards to him from Pepsi, he got very involved," said Coleman, the founder and chief executive of Entertainment Marketing and Communications Inc. "He wanted to make sure that everything was done to the highest production values. He was that kind of guy."
After his mega-hit album "Thriller" in 1982, Jackson was in high demand for endorsements. While Pepsi was ecstatic to get Jackson's endorsement, the pop star had a non-negotiable demand: His face could not appear in the commercial for more than three seconds.
"Initially we were, like, shocked," Coleman recalled. "We were paying $5 million to a star to be in an ad campaign, and he comes to you and he says, 'You can only show my face for three seconds.' Really?"
Instead of Jackson's face, the commercials showed him moonwalking and pictured his famous glove before showing a brief shot of his face.
"Michael had this thing about not wanting to be overexposed, and he convinced us that less was more," Coleman said. "It was a struggle in the beginning, but those commercials worked so brilliantly in part because of his input."
-- PERVAIZ SHALLWANI
Wednesday, July 8, 2009
Man In The Mirror
I'm Gonna Make A Change,
For Once In My Life
It's Gonna Feel Real Good,
Gonna Make A Difference
Gonna Make It Right . . .
As I, Turn Up The Collar On My
Favourite Winter Coat
This Wind Is Blowin' My Mind
I See The Kids In The Street,
With Not Enough To Eat
Who Am I, To Be Blind?
Pretending Not To See
Their Needs
A Summer's Disregard,
A Broken Bottle Top
And A One Man's Soul
They Follow Each Other On
The Wind Ya' Know
'Cause They Got Nowhere
To Go
That's Why I Want You To
Know
I'm Starting With The Man In
The Mirror
I'm Asking Him To Change
His Ways
And No Message Could Have
Been Any Clearer
If You Wanna Make The World
A Better Place
(If You Wanna Make The
World A Better Place)
Take A Look At Yourself, And
Then Make A Change
(Take A Look At Yourself, And
Then Make A Change)
(Na Na Na, Na Na Na, Na Na,
Na Nah)
I've Been A Victim Of A Selfish
Kind Of Love
It's Time That I Realize
That There Are Some With No
Home, Not A Nickel To Loan
Could It Be Really Me,
Pretending That They're Not
Alone?
A Willow Deeply Scarred,
Somebody's Broken Heart
And A Washed-Out Dream
(Washed-Out Dream)
They Follow The Pattern Of
The Wind, Ya' See
Cause They Got No Place
To Be
That's Why I'm Starting With
Me
(Starting With Me!)
I'm Starting With The Man In
The Mirror
(Ooh!)
I'm Asking Him To Change
His Ways
(Ooh!)
And No Message Could Have
Been Any Clearer
If You Wanna Make The World
A Better Place
(If You Wanna Make The
World A Better Place)
Take A Look At Yourself And
Then Make A Change
(Take A Look At Yourself And
Then Make A Change)
I'm Starting With The Man In
The Mirror
For Once In My Life
It's Gonna Feel Real Good,
Gonna Make A Difference
Gonna Make It Right . . .
As I, Turn Up The Collar On My
Favourite Winter Coat
This Wind Is Blowin' My Mind
I See The Kids In The Street,
With Not Enough To Eat
Who Am I, To Be Blind?
Pretending Not To See
Their Needs
A Summer's Disregard,
A Broken Bottle Top
And A One Man's Soul
They Follow Each Other On
The Wind Ya' Know
'Cause They Got Nowhere
To Go
That's Why I Want You To
Know
I'm Starting With The Man In
The Mirror
I'm Asking Him To Change
His Ways
And No Message Could Have
Been Any Clearer
If You Wanna Make The World
A Better Place
(If You Wanna Make The
World A Better Place)
Take A Look At Yourself, And
Then Make A Change
(Take A Look At Yourself, And
Then Make A Change)
(Na Na Na, Na Na Na, Na Na,
Na Nah)
I've Been A Victim Of A Selfish
Kind Of Love
It's Time That I Realize
That There Are Some With No
Home, Not A Nickel To Loan
Could It Be Really Me,
Pretending That They're Not
Alone?
A Willow Deeply Scarred,
Somebody's Broken Heart
And A Washed-Out Dream
(Washed-Out Dream)
They Follow The Pattern Of
The Wind, Ya' See
Cause They Got No Place
To Be
That's Why I'm Starting With
Me
(Starting With Me!)
I'm Starting With The Man In
The Mirror
(Ooh!)
I'm Asking Him To Change
His Ways
(Ooh!)
And No Message Could Have
Been Any Clearer
If You Wanna Make The World
A Better Place
(If You Wanna Make The
World A Better Place)
Take A Look At Yourself And
Then Make A Change
(Take A Look At Yourself And
Then Make A Change)
I'm Starting With The Man In
The Mirror
Saturday, July 4, 2009
Heal the world
Heal The World
Make It A Better Place
For You And For Me
And The Entire Human Race
There Are People Dying
If You Care Enough
For The Living
Make A Better Place
For You And For Me
There Are People Dying
If You Care Enough
For The Living
Make A Better Place
For You And For Me
Get full lyrics here.
Make It A Better Place
For You And For Me
And The Entire Human Race
There Are People Dying
If You Care Enough
For The Living
Make A Better Place
For You And For Me
There Are People Dying
If You Care Enough
For The Living
Make A Better Place
For You And For Me
Get full lyrics here.
Friday, July 3, 2009
Jackson rehearsal two days before he passed away
Michael Jackson's rehearsal two days before his untimely death has hit internet just now and is bring watched by millions of fans all over the world. This is hitting like wild fire. God... what a come back it would have been! Micheal we miss you. Does he look like he is 50 yrs old? He looks so hale and hearty, energetic enthusiastic.
What do you think?
What do you think?
Sunday, June 28, 2009
A Tribute to My Friend, Michael Jackson
Michael Jackson will be remembered, most likely, as a shattered icon, a pop genius who wound up a mutant of fame. That's not who I will remember, however. His mixture of mystery, isolation, indulgence, overwhelming global fame, and personal loneliness was intimately known to me. For twenty years I observed every aspect, and as easy as it was to love Michael -- and to want to protect him -- his sudden death yesterday seemed almost fated.
Two days previously he had called me in an upbeat, excited mood. The voice message said, "I've got some really good news to share with you." He was writing a song about the environment, and he wanted me to help informally with the lyrics, as we had done several times before. When I tried to return his call, however, the number was disconnected. (Terminally spooked by his treatment in the press, he changed his phone number often.) So I never got to talk to him, and the music demo he sent me lies on my bedside table as a poignant symbol of an unfinished life.
When we first met, around 1988, I was struck by the combination of charisma and woundedness that surrounded Michael. He would be swarmed by crowds at an airport, perform an exhausting show for three hours, and then sit backstage afterward, as we did one night in Bucharest, drinking bottled water, glancing over some Sufi poetry as I walked into the room, and wanting to meditate.
That person, whom I considered (at the risk of ridicule) very pure, still survived -- he was reading the poems of Rabindranath Tagore when we talked the last time, two weeks ago. Michael exemplified the paradox of many famous performers, being essentially shy, an introvert who would come to my house and spend most of the evening sitting by himself in a corner with his small children. I never saw less than a loving father when they were together (and wonder now, as anyone close to him would, what will happen to them in the aftermath).
Michael's reluctance to grow up was another part of the paradox. My children adored him, and in return he responded in a childlike way. He declared often, as former child stars do, that he was robbed of his childhood. Considering the monstrously exaggerated value our society places on celebrity, which was showered on Michael without stint, the public was callous to his very real personal pain. It became another tawdry piece of the tabloid Jacko, pictured as a weird changeling and as something far more sinister.
It's not my place to comment on the troubles Michael fell heir to from the past and then amplified by his misguided choices in life. He was surrounded by enablers, including a shameful plethora of M.D.s in Los Angeles and elsewhere who supplied him with prescription drugs. As many times as he would candidly confess that he had a problem, the conversation always ended with a deflection and denial. As I write this paragraph, the reports of drug abuse are spreading across the cable news channels. The instant I heard of his death this afternoon, I had a sinking feeling that prescription drugs would play a key part.
The closest we ever became, perhaps, was when Michael needed a book to sell primarily as a concert souvenir. It would contain pictures for his fans but there would also be a text consisting of short fables. I sat with him for hours while he dreamily wove Aesop-like tales about animals, mixed with words about music and his love of all things musical. This project became "Dancing the Dream" after I pulled the text together for him, acting strictly as a friend. It was this time together that convinced me of the modus vivendi Michael had devised for himself: to counter the tidal wave of stress that accompanies mega-stardom, he built a private retreat in a fantasy world where pink clouds veiled inner anguish and Peter Pan was a hero, not a pathology.
This compromise with reality gradually became unsustainable. He went to strange lengths to preserve it. Unbounded privilege became another toxic force in his undoing. What began as idiosyncrasy, shyness, and vulnerability was ravaged by obsessions over health, paranoia over security, and an isolation that grew more and more unhealthy. When Michael passed me the music for that last song, the one sitting by my bedside waiting for the right words, the procedure for getting the CD to me rivaled a CIA covert operation in its secrecy.
My memory of Michael Jackson will be as complex and confused as anyone's. His closest friends will close ranks and try to do everything in their power to insure that the good lives after him. Will we be successful in rescuing him after so many years of media distortion? No one can say. I only wanted to put some details on the record in his behalf. My son Gotham traveled with Michael as a roadie on his "Dangerous" tour when he was thirteen. Will it matter that Michael behaved with discipline and impeccable manners around my son? (It sends a shiver to recall something he told Gotham : "I don't want to go out like Marlon Brando. I want to go out like Elvis." Both icons were obsessions of this icon.)
His children's nanny and surrogate mother, Grace Rwamba, is like another daughter to me. I introduced her to Michael when she was eighteen, a beautiful, heartwarming girl from Rwanda who is now grown up. She kept an eye on him for me and would call me whenever he was down or running too close to the edge. How heartbreaking for Grace that no one's protective instincts and genuine love could avert this tragic day. An hour ago she was sobbing on the telephone from London . As a result, I couldn't help but write this brief remembrance in sadness. But when the shock subsides and a thousand public voices recount Michael's brilliant, joyous, embattled, enigmatic, bizarre trajectory, I hope the word "joyous" is the one that will rise from the ashes and shine as he once did.
-- Deepak Chopra
Two days previously he had called me in an upbeat, excited mood. The voice message said, "I've got some really good news to share with you." He was writing a song about the environment, and he wanted me to help informally with the lyrics, as we had done several times before. When I tried to return his call, however, the number was disconnected. (Terminally spooked by his treatment in the press, he changed his phone number often.) So I never got to talk to him, and the music demo he sent me lies on my bedside table as a poignant symbol of an unfinished life.
When we first met, around 1988, I was struck by the combination of charisma and woundedness that surrounded Michael. He would be swarmed by crowds at an airport, perform an exhausting show for three hours, and then sit backstage afterward, as we did one night in Bucharest, drinking bottled water, glancing over some Sufi poetry as I walked into the room, and wanting to meditate.
That person, whom I considered (at the risk of ridicule) very pure, still survived -- he was reading the poems of Rabindranath Tagore when we talked the last time, two weeks ago. Michael exemplified the paradox of many famous performers, being essentially shy, an introvert who would come to my house and spend most of the evening sitting by himself in a corner with his small children. I never saw less than a loving father when they were together (and wonder now, as anyone close to him would, what will happen to them in the aftermath).
Michael's reluctance to grow up was another part of the paradox. My children adored him, and in return he responded in a childlike way. He declared often, as former child stars do, that he was robbed of his childhood. Considering the monstrously exaggerated value our society places on celebrity, which was showered on Michael without stint, the public was callous to his very real personal pain. It became another tawdry piece of the tabloid Jacko, pictured as a weird changeling and as something far more sinister.
It's not my place to comment on the troubles Michael fell heir to from the past and then amplified by his misguided choices in life. He was surrounded by enablers, including a shameful plethora of M.D.s in Los Angeles and elsewhere who supplied him with prescription drugs. As many times as he would candidly confess that he had a problem, the conversation always ended with a deflection and denial. As I write this paragraph, the reports of drug abuse are spreading across the cable news channels. The instant I heard of his death this afternoon, I had a sinking feeling that prescription drugs would play a key part.
The closest we ever became, perhaps, was when Michael needed a book to sell primarily as a concert souvenir. It would contain pictures for his fans but there would also be a text consisting of short fables. I sat with him for hours while he dreamily wove Aesop-like tales about animals, mixed with words about music and his love of all things musical. This project became "Dancing the Dream" after I pulled the text together for him, acting strictly as a friend. It was this time together that convinced me of the modus vivendi Michael had devised for himself: to counter the tidal wave of stress that accompanies mega-stardom, he built a private retreat in a fantasy world where pink clouds veiled inner anguish and Peter Pan was a hero, not a pathology.
This compromise with reality gradually became unsustainable. He went to strange lengths to preserve it. Unbounded privilege became another toxic force in his undoing. What began as idiosyncrasy, shyness, and vulnerability was ravaged by obsessions over health, paranoia over security, and an isolation that grew more and more unhealthy. When Michael passed me the music for that last song, the one sitting by my bedside waiting for the right words, the procedure for getting the CD to me rivaled a CIA covert operation in its secrecy.
My memory of Michael Jackson will be as complex and confused as anyone's. His closest friends will close ranks and try to do everything in their power to insure that the good lives after him. Will we be successful in rescuing him after so many years of media distortion? No one can say. I only wanted to put some details on the record in his behalf. My son Gotham traveled with Michael as a roadie on his "Dangerous" tour when he was thirteen. Will it matter that Michael behaved with discipline and impeccable manners around my son? (It sends a shiver to recall something he told Gotham : "I don't want to go out like Marlon Brando. I want to go out like Elvis." Both icons were obsessions of this icon.)
His children's nanny and surrogate mother, Grace Rwamba, is like another daughter to me. I introduced her to Michael when she was eighteen, a beautiful, heartwarming girl from Rwanda who is now grown up. She kept an eye on him for me and would call me whenever he was down or running too close to the edge. How heartbreaking for Grace that no one's protective instincts and genuine love could avert this tragic day. An hour ago she was sobbing on the telephone from London . As a result, I couldn't help but write this brief remembrance in sadness. But when the shock subsides and a thousand public voices recount Michael's brilliant, joyous, embattled, enigmatic, bizarre trajectory, I hope the word "joyous" is the one that will rise from the ashes and shine as he once did.
-- Deepak Chopra
Saturday, June 27, 2009
Top 10 this week
As Jackson continues to dominate my posts this week, here is a my personal top songs. The numbers are missing because that is what they deserve... No 1.
- Thriller
- Bad
- Billie Jean
- Earth Song
- Black or White
- Ain't no sunshine
- Beat it
- They don't really care about us
- Wanna be startin' somethin'
- We are the world
- Who is it
- You are not alone
- Will you be there
- I'll be there
- History
- Cheater
Friday, June 26, 2009
Will you be there?
One of Jackson's best songs...
In our darkest hour
In my deepest despair
Will you still care?
Will you be there?
In my trials
And my tripulations
Through our doubts
And frustrations
In my violence
In my turbulence
Through my fear
And my confessions
In my anguish and my pain
Through my joy and my sorrow
In the promise of another tomorrow
Ill never let you part
For youre always in my heart.
In our darkest hour
In my deepest despair
Will you still care?
Will you be there?
In my trials
And my tripulations
Through our doubts
And frustrations
In my violence
In my turbulence
Through my fear
And my confessions
In my anguish and my pain
Through my joy and my sorrow
In the promise of another tomorrow
Ill never let you part
For youre always in my heart.
RIP Michael Jackson
I just can't come out of shock that Michael Jackson is dead. He is and will be the King Of POP forever. What is the best thing Michael Jackson can do? Break all the records every time. His death is doing the same.
As I write this post websites across the world are facing spiked up traffic and Internet Usage. Fans are pouring in with RIP messages and communities are being flooded with them. Twitter is experiencing over 7000 tweets per minute. Facebook saw a frenzy of activity, too. The number of status updates during the hour after the Jackson news emerged was triple the average. Bloggers are uploading Jackson related content which saw a 300% increase. Many people are changing their profile to 'RIP...'.
Traffic to the leading online news sites throughout North America was at least 20% above average, according to Akamai’s Net Usage Index, which monitors online news consumption around the world.
The intense interest among Web users was evident on sites that track which terms are most popular among users. Phrases such as “Rip MJ,” “King of Pop” and “Thriller” were among the most frequently used on Twitter, and on Google.com, “Michael Jackson died” became the most popular query. Consumer Psyche expects the King of Pop to break the all time high record of 8,572,042 hits with the occasion being Barack Obama's victorious historic presidential election. The stats are from Akamai.
Few lines from Thriller...
Your body starts to shiver
For no mere mortal can resist
The evil of the thriller
As I write this post websites across the world are facing spiked up traffic and Internet Usage. Fans are pouring in with RIP messages and communities are being flooded with them. Twitter is experiencing over 7000 tweets per minute. Facebook saw a frenzy of activity, too. The number of status updates during the hour after the Jackson news emerged was triple the average. Bloggers are uploading Jackson related content which saw a 300% increase. Many people are changing their profile to 'RIP...'.
Traffic to the leading online news sites throughout North America was at least 20% above average, according to Akamai’s Net Usage Index, which monitors online news consumption around the world.
The intense interest among Web users was evident on sites that track which terms are most popular among users. Phrases such as “Rip MJ,” “King of Pop” and “Thriller” were among the most frequently used on Twitter, and on Google.com, “Michael Jackson died” became the most popular query. Consumer Psyche expects the King of Pop to break the all time high record of 8,572,042 hits with the occasion being Barack Obama's victorious historic presidential election. The stats are from Akamai.
Few lines from Thriller...
Your body starts to shiver
For no mere mortal can resist
The evil of the thriller
The King of pop is no more
Just got the news. I just can't believe Michael Jackson is dead. A true legend who kept people happy with his music, songs and numerous charity efforts, he will be remembered forever. Good bye Jacko... rest in peace. This world didn't deserve you anyways. Now entertain the celestial world.
Monday, May 11, 2009
Decades later he is still the Thriller
Too many years and still he is the King. Oh yes, I am talking about Michael Jackson. He has been the good boy, bad boy, rags-to-riches story and what not. Media loved him, hated him, ensured he was in news all the time. Thriller is still the most seen, heard song ever. Now with his London show dates being announced and tickets being sold at www.michaeljackson.com its become much easier to pitch in. Wanna go and watch? I'm sure it will be a great show. And get a clip of that video and I assure you a Billion hits in no time on Youtube.
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