Another day, another celebrity death. And while there will always be celebrity deaths, this year managed to pillage my adolescence pretty hard. David Bowie. Prince. And finally, George Michael.
That one hit harder than I expected. I’ve now spent a day and a half listening to his recordings, some studio and some live. And I am stunned at how good he actually was. Sure there were some embarrassing moments early on. But even with Wham! he matured quickly. By the 90s, he was more than just a sex object, though he retained every bit of his sex appeal.
Songs like Praying for Time showed his depth. Videos like the one for Outside showed he could laugh at himself. And once he was out, he was unabashedly out – take a listen to Fastlove.
As an adult, I lost track of what he was doing. Every now and then, I would hear about a drug arrest and be disappointed in him, but I always had bigger things to worry about.
So why make such a fuss only after he’s gone? I think it’s easier than trying to discuss the complexities of the rest of the world’s problems. We 80s children all knew who George Michael was. For many of us hungry little school girls, he was our first crush and informed much of our sexuality. That’s not nothing.
Today, it is a uniting thing. Some of us can come together and remember. Maybe even be inspired again.