Web Commonerprogressive politics, social commentary, and ramblings on pop culture

New evidence of Michael Jackson’s influence is popping up throughout the Internet in the form of tributes to the deceased entertainer. Friends and fans alike are passing along links to websites like Eternal Moonwalk, where a continuous loop of home videos shows people performing Jackson’s signature move. Other homages highlight his artistic genius, and one particular YouTube user is publishing video mash-ups that combine Jackson’s music with old footage of song-and-dance icons perceived to be his artistic inspirations from entertainment’s past. Check out the following series of clips that chronicle evidence of a historical evolution behind what eventually came to be Michael Jackson’s “Moonwalk.”

Other videos on the page carefully combine edited clips of “West Side Story” with Jackson’s “Beat It” and “Bad,” or clips of Fred Astaire and Cyd Charisse dancing to Jackson’s “Smooth Criminal,” all skillfully crafted to demonstrate the entertainer’s obvious affinity towards show tunes, and their influence on his music, dance and videos. The significant difference between those historical gems and Jackson’s own art are the media that presented them, the silver screen versus MTV and the boob tube, which invariably led me to ponder how artistic influence gets recycled over time and through different mediums. As technology evolves and cultures change, valued art from the past gets passed on to succeeding generations, and shared influence continues to turn the wheels of inspiration, progress, and innovation.

Recently, Coldplay’s smash hit, “Viva La Vida,” sparked controversy over whether or not the British band lifted their song’s signature tune from an earlier recording of Joe Satriani’s “If I Could Fly.” The Internet and, more specifically, YouTube, became a sort of advanced interactive medium for fans to compare the music, discuss its transference, and indirectly share its inspiration and influence. To make matters more interesting, convincing compositions by other musicians including Enanitos Verdes and Cat Stevens got thrown into the mix, spanning almost twenty years of artistic works that seemingly influenced other works. Much of the matter’s discussion seems reminiscent of conversations that took place at the turn of the century when advances in production technologies brought Hip-Hop culture from block parties to the recording studio as artists began sampling old recordings to create entirely new music compositions.

In a society that sets high standards on the use of copy-written material, technology is once again testing the limits of artistic progress, and rekindling conversations that take place over the influence of past works. In the United States, arguments over copyright material are historically settled within the confines of America’s courtrooms, but new ideas fostering the free sharing of information via the Internet threatens to blow the hinges off the system’s doors. In the not-so-distant past, peer-to-peer sharing showed signs of destroying the business of record companies, which held a monopoly on music distribution, and lawsuits only gained them enough time to restructure their business models. Today, social networking sites like YouTube are excellent examples of mediums that allow for gross sharing of artistic property and ideas. Meanwhile, a new generation of entrepreneurs is setting aside outdated practices of intellectual protectionism by embracing a culture of sharing, most notably in open-source software development.

Regardless of which way the wind blows on future copyright law, shared influence among artistic works remains a powerful force that inspires human progress and innovation through time, a sort of transference of such subtle references to the past that they can quickly and easily be forgotten. Throughout human history, the past is what shapes our future and, since the day we learned to stand upright and speak, that yearning to share what we know and how we came to know it lingers within, like the blood flowing through our veins. It’s generally accepted that you cannot get something from nothing, especially within the spectacular realm of the shared human experience. So, without Copernicus, there would be no Galileo. Without Greek philosophy, no Roman democracy. Without Chuck Berry, no Beatles and, of course, without Fred Astaire, no Michael Jackson.

For some, Michael Jackson’s sudden death at 50 was sweet in the sense that it fostered a tremendous sense of love around the globe. He was such a beloved figure by so many people, and that love is reciprocating itself tenfold in their remembrance of a man who inspired and encouraged them to be better human beings. For others, it was bitter because he led such a tragic and tortured existence, one that was oftentimes difficult to witness and even harder to understand. For me, it was both. Many years ago, I let go of a person so incredibly admired throughout my childhood, not because of the legal accusations filed against him or the media crucifixion that followed, but simply because I no longer recognized him.

As I grew into adulthood, my childhood obsession with the King of Pop faded with his physical appearance, a face that no longer seemed to resemble the one I came to love and respect. At times, when I thought about Michael, it brewed within me a battle for my own conscience, fought over whether or not physical appearance should matter when it comes to respecting a good friend, or at least the perception of one. When all is said and done, I don’t think it was his physical appearance that truly bothered me. Instead, it was this nagging feeling from within that the man was on an inevitable path towards self-destruction, altering his body in what seemed to be a perfectionist’s pursuit to manifest the impossible. For many of us, the haunting question when it comes to Michael Jackson is what made a person so talented, loving, and caring drive him to do such unspeakable things to an already flawless appearance.

Much of the short term blame is placed on an alleged addiction to drugs, specifically painkillers, which may have contributed to Jackson’s visibly increasing physical frailty. The long term blame, though, is often directed at Joe Jackson. His brutish nature is no secret and many tabloids drew attention to it throughout Michael’s career, long before I matured to a point of understanding its effect on a child’s growth. In fact, most people don’t seem to deny that any of the Jackson kids really appreciate their father for relentlessly pushing them into superstardom long before they were ready to accept and understand the consequences of that reality. Joe Jackson forced his youngest son into the spotlight at the age of five, who proceeded to spend his entire childhood singing and dancing on stage in front of adults, and mingling with adult entertainers. Throughout his career, Michael made it known to the media and his fans the physical and mental abuse that he suffered at the hands of his father when he was a young boy.

So, the King of Pop spent close to 50 years trying to manufacture a childhood that he never had, and he wanted to spend that childhood with others in the same manner that he imagined spending it all those years back. Michael’s tragedy lies in the fact that his physical form matured much faster than his mind, which was seemingly held to stagnation at some point in his turbulent past. His brain was poised to keep the man a child, with a child’s heart, while his body compelled him to physical feats that undoubtedly made him the world’s most favored entertainer. He became an unprecedented and unbelievable talent, and his new fame brought with it a lavish lifestyle that most people, let alone children, would ever have the opportunity to experience or even dream. Ultimately, it skewed the balance between reality and fantasy, and tragically led to Michael’s bittersweet demise.

Michael, may you rest in peace, and may those who never truly understood your brilliance or even sympathized with your situation at least come to accept the unfortunate circumstances that made you different. As we continually seek to someday heal the world, we need only look as far as the mirror to do it.

You try to avoid it as much as possible. You change the channel to another program or record the one you’re watching just to have the ability to fast forward through the commercials later. You watch cable, or maybe wait for the DVD’s release. As a last resort, you mute the live program and engage your friend, family member, or significant other in conversation while setting your internal clock to two minutes.

Deep down, we all know that inside those dimmed, artificially lit corridors of the marketing department that contains the pusher poised to sell their next ad space to the highest bidder, it’s not really a product they’re pushing, it’s you … and that’s not very cool at all. Still, sometimes an ad comes along that grips your psyche and actually solicits feelings of admiration and respect.

Guilt usually follows, along with fantastical images of some vibrant young intern fulfilling a secret goal to use advertising as a medium for unearthing hidden or forgotten cultural gems. In your head, it’s sort of an advertising coup, where a marketing intern conspires a clever ruse unbeknownst to his or her culturally devoid superiors and successfully surfaces or resurfaces iconic works of musical art to the fresh ears of millions. All the while, convincing their client that it’s the perfect supplement to their silly slogan.

Sure, I know it’s a dream and it doesn’t really happen that way, but it’s my way of justifying an industry that primarily drives profit through means of deception and manipulating people’s emotions. Regardless, some ads are simply worth their weight in BS, and here are five that made me sit back and say, “The song I just heard in that commercial was pure bliss to my eardrums, and makes me want to go outside and offer free hugs in the street.”

5. Porcelain – Advertised in a car commercial, I think? Moby absorbed a lot of heat for this, especially among his most loyal fans, after taking a firm political stand against the clutch of corporate interests. As I recall, he justified the use of ‘Porcelain’ in the ad with arguments that its revenue would supplement his cause, aiding in education and creating awareness about corporate greed and corruption.

4. Big Rock Candy Mountain – Okay, this composition didn’t compel me into the streets in song, but the ad was unforgettable and the tune was a familiar ditty. Burger King had me completely stumped after seeing this one, with Hootie and the Blowfish’s Darius Rucker decked out in full psychedelic cowboy garb, guitar in hand, and strumming an alternate version of a song made more famous on the ‘O Brother, Where Art Thou’ soundtrack than in this commercial. Still, I couldn’t help but think it was a clever nod.

3. Daydreamin’ – Another psychedelic manifestation, this song worked its way into a mobile phone ad and gave me an instant sense of deja vous. I never got to experience the late sixties, but if I had, this is how it would sound, and we have Lupe Fiasco and Jill Scott to thank for covering a track originally recorded by Wallace Connection at Abbey Road Studios in 1968.

2. Ain’t Got No, I Got Life – If you’re not familiar with Nina Simone, it’s high time to jump on iTunes and secure a collection of her music. The ardent impresario of jazz vocalists implants within her listeners a sort of history of the human soul. I was already familiar with her art through the musings of rappers like Mos Def, Talib Kweli and Common, and it took no time for me to recognize her distinguished tone after hearing it in a dairy ad in England. Something tells me that the “High Priestess of Soul” would not be too keen on her music being put to commercial use. She took a hard-lined position in the civil rights movement, and left the United States shortly after the assassination of Martin Luther King, Jr.

1. Lovely Day – Sorry Gap, but I haven’t stepped foot inside your store, immediately making a bee line for any corner where an employee would not find me, in over XXL number of years. Still, I have to give you credit for introducing me to this song, or at least the remix. Up to this point, the only Bill Withers tune that I could correctly identify was ‘Lean On Me,’ and that had more to do with Club Nuveau. I derived great pleasure whenever your happy dancers graced the screen to the smooth stylings of Mr. Withers, and I quickly familiarized myself with his music thereafter. Thanks.

WARNING: This post contains LOST spoilers. If you have not watched the show through the final seconds of Season 5, it is strongly recommended that you turn back now.

“They’re coming.”

That was the last line of special significance spoken by a character on LOST prior to Juliet’s screeching whimper as she pounded away at a stubborn nuclear reactor that Mr. Fix-It, Sayid, promised would detonate on impact. Apparently, all it took was some good old-fashioned elbow grease to make the thing act right, despite a compelling fall from grace. It’s a good thing she let go of Sawyer’s hand, and I guess those frustrated with the quadrilateral love connection can at least take comfort knowing it was a necessary plot twist that would pave a path towards their expulsion from 1977. I’ll certainly miss our cultish, psychedelic Dharma ladies and gents, but it’s time to move the story forward. Cue the cut to … white?

That’s right, Carlton Cuse and Damon Lindelof can’t take credit for pioneering the technique, but let’s at least pay homage to their use of a mere transition to advance the series into its final season, at the same time reminding us not to forget other television success stories that made excellent use of the cut or fade to white effect, including the Sopranos and Six Feet Under. So, what does it all mean? We know for a fact that the creators of LOST have been dangling the black and white theme in front of our faces since John Locke first introduced Walt to the game of backgammon.

There was the discovery of Adam and Eve, when Jack found black and white stones among the possessions of two decomposed skeletons in the caves. Claire once had a dream about Aaron on the beach, with Lock staring up at her sporting black and white eyes and breaking bad news that the survivors would pay the price for her shucking responsibility and giving up the baby. Now, enter Mr. Black, literally. In the opening scene of “The Incident,” we meet Jacob face to face for the first time, and he has a friend. By design, both characters contrast perfectly, with Jacob decked out in a white linen shirt, and Mr. Black wearing, well, black.

We have to assume that these two characters are at odds with each other after Mr. Black tells Jacob that he wants to kill him, implying that there is no easy solution to fulfilling this desire. Even more disturbing is the fact that this revelation does not appear to surprise or even remotely phase Jacob. Of course, I’m approaching this conversation from the East when it really should be read from left to right, so let me find Richard’s compass.

Okay, after we see Jacob working diligently on weaving a tapestry to decorate the walls of his humble stone hideaway, he heads outside to catch dinner. Next, we see him fillet a fish, cook it, and plop down on the beach to enjoy the meal. He stares off into the horizon as the infamous Black Rock sails a few miles offshore, and Mr. Black walks up and takes a seat next to him. Then, throw in the main ingredient that we all come to expect after 5 seasons of LOST … complete and utter confusion.

Jacob: I take it you’re here because of the ship.
Mr. Black: I am. (pause) How did they find the island?
Jacob: You’ll have to ask them when they get here.
Mr. Black: I don’t have to ask. You brought them here. Still trying to prove me wrong, aren’t you?
Jacob: You are wrong.
Mr. Black: Am I? They come, they fight, they destroy, they corrupt. It always ends the same.
Jacob: It only ends once. Anything that happens before that … is just progress.
Mr. Black: You have any idea how badly I want to kill you?
Jacob: Yes.
Mr. Black: One of these days, sooner or later … I’m going to find a loophole, my friend.
Jacob: Well, when you do, I’ll be right here.

Wow, this snippet of dialogue seems to suggest that these characters are at either end of a philosophical tug of war. One of them apparently has an advantage, and it’s the guy who presides under a larger than life four-toed statue of Taweret, the Egyptian Goddess of birth and rebirth. Meanwhile, I will take a shot in the dark here and say that Mr. Black is a representative of Anubis and Co., the Egyptian God of afterlife and the underworld. As we witnessed when Ben’s daughter accosted him under the temple, hieroglyphics adorning the wall revealed that the smoke monster and Anubis are, at least, acquaintances and, at most, one and the same. So, friends, we just might have on our hands a classic struggle between black and white, light and dark, life and death or, dare I say, good and evil.

To restate, it only ends once, and anything that happens before that is just progress. Okay, but progress towards what? If you take Mr. Black’s words at face value, the mates aboard the Black Rock are not the first Losties to reach the island, and they will not be the last. Still, let’s start with them. Apparently, they will come, fight, destroy, and corrupt until some sort of end-game scenario. I have a sneaky suspicion that the only person who could likely shed light on this subject, other than our beach bums, is the person whose job seems to be holding his tongue. After seeing Ricardus, or as we know him, Richard, set the sail of the Black-Rock-In-A-Bottle, it seems safe to assume that he was aboard the vessel when it finally landed, literally, on the island.

So, If Richard arrived on the Black Rock, maybe he knows how the statue came to be “destroyed,” and as far fetched as it might seem, maybe a nuclear reactor coupled with a spastic release of electro-magnetic energy just might be what it takes to thrust our Dharma infiltrators through time and space, and back to the day of Richard’s arrival. Maybe, just maybe, the incident thrusts the entire island physically through time, landing just beneath the Black Rock. Inconceivable! But is this progress?

If you believe Faraday’s theory, humanity’s ability to exercise free will is what makes us unique, and this might just be the constant in life’s awesome equation for humankind. In LOST lure, human survival hinges on a bet between ancient adversaries who represent contrasting philosophies, a wager that pits humans against themselves to see if they can overcome self-destruction by making the right decisions. The island is our casino, and Jacob seems to be the pit boss. As long as he is around to monitor progress, there is no limit to the amount of time that the game can carry itself out.

If Jacob and Mr. Black are, in fact, light and dark manifestations of a single entity, call it God, Ra, Apollo, or just humanity itself, then they cannot kill each other. Like the yin and yang, their existence depends solely on the sum of their parts, and each part has a unique task to carry out. Humans, however, have access to free will and, therefore, can choose between tasks. They can choose between practicing good or evil, knowing right from wrong, turning left or right, going up or down. To be or not to be, kill or be killed, live together, or die alone are all choices that we make. These options exist within the proprietary structure of the human brain, and our ability to choose between them makes us unique in the universe or, in its simplest form, on the island.

In Buddhist mythology, the twin concepts of karma and dharma are associated with reincarnation, with karma dictating that a person’s actions, or lack thereof, result in later effect. In other words, life is what you make it, either in this life or the one that follows. While karma leaves little room for blind chance or fate to determine the future, dharma leaves everything up to destiny. Mr. Black believes that doom and self-destruction is the ultimate fate awaiting humanity, while Jacob is confident that karma will prevail. Out of respect for dharma, Mr. Black is no longer interested in entertaining the idea that free will can save humans, and he sets in motion a plan to end the charade between himself and Jacob.

Black concocts an elaborate scheme to take advantage of humankind’s predetermined weakness, infallibility, doubt, and insecurity, planning to use it against Jacob when the time is right. He employs Smokey to seek out the island’s inhabitants and catalog their memories, document their secrets, manipulate their emotions, and manifest their darkest fears right before their eyes. The smoke monster is Mr. Black’s eyes and ears, and John Locke becomes his most vulnerable and receptive target.

Upon the arrival of the flight 815 survivors, Black finds an opportunity to become the unofficial surrogate father of a human child, Claire Littleton’s son, Aaron. Many believe that Claire died in the explosion back in Dharmaville. If so, it’s quite possible that Mr. Black or Smokey use Claire as a means to convince John that he must move the island to ensure its safety. Smokey’s manipulative capabilities are limited in scope only by its mechanical nature. Still, it obviously has the ability to utilize snippets it carries within it’s memory banks, like a camera, and manifest itself in other forms, which could explain Claire’s seemingly uncharacteristic behavior in Horrace’s woodland retreat.

Unfortunately, Mr. Black’s “Plan A” flies out the window the moment Aaron makes it off the island. Then, to make matters worse, Locke allows Ben to knock the frozen donkey wheel off its axis, which eliminates the problem of Widmore’s offshore army but regretfully sends the island flashing back and forth through time. Still, thanks to clever strategy, Black manages to get Locke placed next in line to lead the island’s people, and convinces him that bringing back his friends would stop the time shift. Oh yeah, John, and don’t forget that you will have to die to make all of this happen. Your body is very important to me and, unbeknownst to you and everybody else, it will serve as a mechanism in my plan to make Ben kill Jacob.

Luckily, he who “lies in the shadow of The Statue” also has an ace up his sleeve, and they share common ancestry. Their names are Christian and Jack Shephard. If Mr. Black can infiltrate a human being, there should be no reason that Jacob cannot do the same. Originally, he finds his loophole in Christian, who’s body landed on the island the day Flight 815 crashed. Through Shephard, he knows Jack, and understands their relationship, regrets, and unresolved issues. Despite his selfish misguidance and irresponsibility as a father, Christian understood Jack to be a great man, capable of great things. He also introduces Jacob to Claire, who will now do everything in his power to make sure her child does not fall into the hands of Mr. Black. He cannot be raised by another.

Maybe this is why women are slated to die after bearing children on the island. With the forces currently at play, all of that free love would be too risky as long as Black is scheming to find a loophole. While it would appear that Jacob manages to hold Black at bay, safely exiled within the confines of the cabin, encircled in ash and powerless to leave, Smokey roams throughout the island freely via a network of underground tunnels and caves, like an elaborate system of security cameras that aid in Mr. Black’s search for a “candidate.” Of course, someone eventually breaks the line of ash, and we all saw the new Locke disappear into the jungle while Ben awaited the arrival of Smokey with Sun and Lapidus. That sneaky devil.

Meanwhile, our friends in 1977 are poised to set off a nuclear bomb that could potentially dissolve the island in poisonous radiation, possibly a part of Jacob’s plan to discourage women from reproducing. Sun becomes the exception to the rule, though, which should be a red flag that Jacob’s plan succeeds in the end, only after everything is finally said and, dare I say, done. Our Losties manage to eradicate the Black issue, which we are yet to witness, and in all likelihood, this brings back some of our favorite characters including Michael, Walt, Penny, Desmond, and Charlie. I would love to see Mr. Eko again, but his story has already been told, having stubbornly proven to Mr. Black that human beings are perfectly capable of using free will to shape their own destiny. No thanks, scary smoke monster, I have nothing to confess.

The haunting question that remains is how Jack will lead everybody to defeat the seemingly unflappable and cunning black crusader, and our clue lies in a simple fade to white. After all this time, it’s Mr. White’s turn to take the wheel. Jacob “lied,” or schemed, in the shadow of The Statue for a long time, planning the suppression of Black and his plan. Now, in the show’s final season, we will learn how Hawking and Widmore became cogs in the massive wheel that is Jacob’s plan to get his variables to the island.

Jacob needed Mr. Black to accomplish his task, which explains why Eloise put Locke’s body on the plane. He recruited Illana to warn Richard of Black’s ruse, who will dutifully fulfill his role as adviser once “they” arrive. Jacob’s death becomes the culmination of a faithfully executed plan to set in motion events that, he hoped, would lead Jack and our free-will yielding variables to prevent Mr. Black from carrying out his plan and, potentially, destroying humanity in the process. The outcome of this battle serves as a stepping stone in humankind’s progressive journey towards nirvana. He, who will save us all.

In the end, Jacob clears the board for the next game’s pieces to be set and secures the human soul long enough for the next group of Losties to try their hand at fate within the confines of the great snow globe that is the island. Its original inhabitants, the “Hostiles” or “Others,” are simply those who came before, and the decisions they made permeate the jungle as haunting whispers, like memories of past mistakes that lay deep within the human subconscious. Thus ending a carefully concocted, highly successful, television series nod to mythology and, more specifically, the hero’s tale as described by Joseph Campbell in his book, “The Hero With A Thousand Faces.” Undoubtedly, Cuse and Lindelof will give the book the proverbial product placement that it deserves in the final season, offering up the same debt of gratitude to Campbell that George Lucas gave when he wrote Star Wars.