Michael’s ‘Billie Jean’ performance at Motown 25 is one of the most legendary moments in music history. Watching it on video is amazing - but what was it like sitting in the audience and seeing it live? Steven Ivory was there and tells EURWeb.com about it:
“On the evening of March 25, 1983, I drove to the Pasadena Civic Auditorium in an economy car and an ill-fitting tux, both rented, for the taping of NBC’s Motown 25: Yesterday, Today, Forever. What the tape of Jackson’s performance (lip-synched, which is ironic considering his prowess at singing live while dancing) fails to accurately capture is just what was going on the audience: Sheer bedlam.
What seems routine now, was spellbinding then; we’d never seen this Michael Jackson. Even his brothers, after they’d performed a reunion medley with him, were seeing it for the first time from the wings. Michael, goes the story, put his act together the day before.
If you were a Jackson fan, you were glad he was back. If you were a Jackson fan and Black, you were awash in a wave of cultural pride that transcended mere pop music to fasten itself onto American history outright.
To be sure, the five minutes Jackson was onstage alone somehow elevated the whole race–certainly the Pasadena Civic, where, after Jackson left the stage, the show had to be halted so that entire production and building could regain its composure; so that men in the audience could straighten their ties and women could adjust their wigs.
It was as if Jackson had dropped a bomb on the place, walked away and left us there to negotiate the soulful fallout. “Ladies and gentlemen,” pleaded a stern, amplified male voice, “please take your seats, we have more show to be taped. PLEASE….” Folk dabbed water from their eyes, hugged one another and high-fived strangers. Performance? We’d just witnessed a coronation. Soon, order prevailed. We politely watched the rest of the show, our collective consciousness stuck on Jackson.
Michael has said that, initially, after leaving the stage, he was disappointed with his performance. His plan, when he went up on his toes, was to simply stay there, suspended infinitely. Just as well that he didn’t; the house could not have handled it. As it was, they went nuts when he showed up at the after party, held at an indoor shopping mall across the street that Motown shut down and converted into a massive disco.
As his security team wedged him through the crush of excited well-wishers, Tops, Tempts, Supremes and others pushed their way toward Jackson as if they themselves weren’t legends, as if they hadn’t made music that influenced and inspired this man. Chaos ensued. It was all Jackson’s bodyguards could do to turn him around and push him back out to his limo out front.
Those of us lucky enough to attend the taping had to wait weeks for the show to air. Would Jackson’s performance be all that we’d raved to anyone who’d listen? Yes, even to the Jacksons. Rebbie Jackson told me when the show aired, they, like other viewers across America, taped it off the TV. The next day, friends, entertainers and assorted dignitaries, acknowledging that the universe had indeed tilted, phoned, sent flowers and wired kudos. “People came by Hayvenhurst (the Jackson home in Encino) all day long,” she said. “It was as if someone got married or brought a baby home from the hospital. We played that tape over and over all day until it broke.”
And the day after “Motown 25″ aired, all retail hell broke loose. At the height of its phenomenal sales history, the album was nationally selling half a million copies a week. With more than one million copies sold in Los Angeles alone, “Thriller” demanded its own zip code. Years later, Quincy Jones confided to me that at some point it all began to frighten him.
“First I prayed it would sell, and then I wanted it to STOP selling,” he said. “It was getting too big. I was afraid it would eclipse my entire career and be the only thing people remembered.” Because of this, Jones said he suffered what amounted to a minor nervous breakdown, leaving Jackson and engineer Bruce Swedien to begin “Bad” while he recovered in the tropics. No disrespect Q, but I’d like a shot at that kind of breakdown. […]
People talk about Michael Jackson making a comeback. Come back and do what–levitate? Comebacks are for mortals. You don’t comeback after being Michael Jackson. Michael Jackson just is. He is his own global culture, his own musical manifestation. Come back and do what? He’s done it all. The Michael Jackson of “Thriller” is forever etched in time, for all time. Now, he’s just Michael Jackson.”
