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A certain air of remembrance hung in the air this past weekend in New York, and it reverberated musically throughout the city. Saturday on Governor’s Island, Rock The Bells rang clear with its ode to Wu Tang, A Tribe Called Quest, and Snoop Dogg’s game-changing footholds in the 1993 hip-hop scene -- not to mention the can-we-call-it-a-comeback appearance of one Lauryn Hill. Manhattan was abuzz with jazz from the festival that sprawled across the island (and the weekend) in honor of Charlie Parker. But the feeling of thoughtful reflection seemed to fully culminate on Sunday, at Michael Jackson’s Brooklyn birthday party.
Prospect Park is probably the most fun-friendly of NYC’s green spaces -- on any given day a smattering of balloons, a spread picnic favorites (including the booze furtively poured into translucent cups), and the faint waft of charcoal from a grill station will let you know that a celebration is going down. As I wound my way toward Nethermead Field in the hazy late August heat, I spotted more than a few such clues. If you weren’t familiar with the importance of August 29th, the distant rumble of Nethermead might have seemed out of place. It was almost impossible, though, not to get caught up in the throng rushing toward it in anticipation of the biggest blowout the park might ever see.
Spike Lee, the eminent and outspoken Brooklyn son, played host to a crowd of 50,000 MJ well-wishers, many of them decked out in t-shirts or full-on costumes in homage to the King of Pop. The Reverend Al Sharpton’s prayer calling for thoughts of Michael and the victims of Hurricane Katrina (whose fifth anniversary fell on the same day) injected the atmosphere with a curiously solemn mix of loss and hope. How is this any way to start a party? I wondered.
Almost in answer, Lee and DJ Spinna launched into a day-long vigil to Michael in the form of his greatest hits. Karaoke and dancing were feverishly encouraged as the audience joyfully waved the “Yeah Yeah,” “You’re A Vegetable!” and “Ma Ma Se Ma Ma Sa Ma Ma Coo Sa” signs supplied by Spike’s 40 Acres crew. Two large screens flanking the stage displayed lyrics or images from the field, no doubt scanning for footage to be included in Lee’s “Brooklyn Loves Michael Jackson” documentary. Birthday balloons, cake and BBQ staples were seen at every corner, erasing any doubts as to how you might celebrate the life of someone who is unable to be present.
Highlights of the six hours spent dancing in the day included the large-scale Electric Slide that broke out to the tune of “Lovely One,” the kid dancing like Michael on top of the Port-o-Potties (impressive, but where are your parents?), and, of course, the surprise appearance of Snoop Dogg. Donning a sole silver glove and his usual slow-mo swagger, Snoop got Brooklyn going with a take on his classic “Gin and Juice” (laid over the track of MJ’s “Butterflies”), and an insistence that we “Drop It Like It’s Hot.” Before he was whisked away to make the last leg of Rock The Bells in DC that night, he led the crowd in a declaration of how much we miss Michael Jackson -- something which never seemed to grow old in repeating.
Maybe the most moving moment was when Jackson’s intensely personal “Man In The Mirror” prompted a poignant sing-along you could nearly call intimate (or as intimate as can be when you’re surrounded by tens of thousands of people who are singing karaoke). As I looked around at the color spectrum of faces swaying and singing, an even wider range of ages among them, it occurred to me that this is exactly what Michael had been wanting all along. No matter what scandal or infamy may have haunted his career, he never stopped striving for the happiness and harmony that only his music can provoke. What other artist has had -- or will have -- the power to get fifty thousand people in Brooklyn to enjoy themselves as if their life depended on it? (Sit down, Chris Brown.)
The irony, of course, is that MJ is no longer around to see the depth of his impact on the world. While there will continue to be an outpouring of tributes in his honor, his 52nd birthday bash on a glimmering day in Brooklyn stands out as the cap to a special weekend of reminiscing in the city. Nethermead Field was overcome with a sense of gratitude -- not only to Spike Lee for organizing the event, but for the existence of the person we honored. No matter what you may be missing in life, his music has a way of making you forget -- but when it comes to Michael Jackson, there’s no way we possibly could.