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We need entertainers as much as we need air

By Larry Clark | Hickory Daily Record

Published: June 27, 2009

War and rumors of war strike fear into millions of people. Violence and pestilence stalk many lands. Times are difficult.

Yet, the death of an entertainer has caused much of the world to pause in mourning and admiration.

That's how it is with our entertainers, especially a music icon like Michael Jackson.

Jackson's high-energy talent was mesmerizing. In an art form that thrives on royalty, he was the King of Pop.

I'm not one of Jackson's ardent fans. I am a product of Bo, Buddy, Chuck and Elvis. But ask me if I would go to a Jackson concert. Faster than he could twirl.

We rely on entertainers. We cannot live without them. We've been this way throughout our history.

We stop to remember Michael Jackson amid our more serious, pressing problems because his death is personal. We know him. He is one of us, part of the extended family bound by music. Rhythm is a shared heartbeat.

We understand that Jackson had his troubles and many aspects of his life are suspect, controversial. Yet, we admire his showmanship, displays of skill that left audiences breathless. His songs were consumed like fine, heady wine and his followers were left giddy with pleasure and excitement.

Thus it is with our favorite entertainers and their music. Because of them, we are not lonely, even when we're alone.

They inspire us, make us laugh, bring us to tears, prick our conscience, move us to action, make us dance and sometimes they force us to think.

We ascribe hero status to them for good reason. They give us refuge amid our troubles. They make us happy. More than anything, they reflect who we are.

Entertainers are influential, to some degree, but musicians and singers, like other artists, provide compelling images of ourselves.

We respond to songs of protest because we already know something is amiss and needs correcting.
We dance because we feel like dancing and we'll jump at any opportunity to do so. We are glad because no matter how we feel, we want our gladness to burst forth.

We cry, sometimes even before a song begins, because we know heartache for whatever reason.

Entertainers compel the catharsis we cannot induce without help.

Many people I admire have come and gone. Buddy Holly, Bo Diddley, Elvis, Jimi Hendrix, Janis Joplin, the list seems to go on forever.

It's not just Pop/Rock. I like all kinds of music. I can go from Aaron Copland to Bob Dylan to Franz Liszt to Jeomy Wilson to Alvin Lee to Doc Watson in a trice.

So, Eva Cassidy's passing hurt just like John Lennon's. We still thrive on their music. It's a personal thing.

In my youth, rock lived alongside the popular music of my forebears. The sounds of the big bands were still around, country music and western swing had a lot of people dancing and tapping toes and stars like Frank Sinatra, Bing Crosby and Peggy Lee (be still, my beating heart!) were brilliant.

I had this teacher, really smart, who embraced the old music and despised the new. This teacher would opine what a travesty it was that an illiterate hick could take a guitar, shake his hips and become a star.

The tirade was about Elvis, of course.

Seems to me Elvis was the American dream come true. Rock was evil, however, to many of our mentors. The spite aimed at rock and Elvis was mitigated somewhat because our elders were impressed by his generosity to his parents — a subtle homily for my generation.

The music schism didn't mean anything to me. Even then, I could swap among Glenn Miller, Little Richard, Rosemary Clooney and Jerry Lee Lewis and be happy as a clam.

Appreciating the past seems to be much easier than getting in tune with the future.

So it was that, horror of horrors, here came the Beatles and long hair. See, teacher, it can always get worse.

Along with hair came an attempt at raising social awareness. Contemporary minstrels reminded us that Jesus had long hair and was the Prince of Peace (bless Heather's mom), and we can change the world (thanks, Pete, we haven't given up).

However, like all the generations before us, music is mainly for enjoyment. We gotta sing, gotta dance. That's why entertainers are as indispensible in our lives as air.

Whether we as individuals embrace or endure the current rage is personal. We pick among artists as we please, even if they're in the same genre.

I'm not much into rap, but I'm amazed at Stevie S. He's sort of semi-rap. We share the same high regard for Sam Cooke. Connectivity doesn't always run in a straight line.

Some entertainers catch a wave that towers over their peers. Michael Jackson was one. His influence and popularity cannot be denied.

His personal life was troubling, but when he hit the stage, he stirred the soul.

It is right we should stop and reflect.

Whoever we are, he made us jump up and look. He was The Thriller.

Now everybody take a deep breath and keep going.

Larry Clark is a Record staff writer. Reach him at lclark@hickoryrecord.com.