It usually starts with my brother, with an instagram reel or two.
We live on different continents now, with our own lives and routines but when it comes to Michael Jackson we are instantly children again. No explanation needed. No context required. He just gets it.
Lately it feels like Michael Jackson is everywhere in my world. The countdown to the new biopic has stirred something familiar and exciting. My social feeds are full of the buzz, performances and memories.
Some artists entertain, others deliver soundtrack moments. Michael Jackson did something rarer. His music threaded itself into people’s lives across oceans and generations, into homes like mine where distance never seemed to matter. His songs arrived bright and undeniable, settling into our memories before we even realised they would stay there forever.
For me, this is not just nostalgia. It is personal history and once that door opens, it is impossible not to walk straight through it.
When Childhood Had a Soundtrack
Some of my strongest childhood memories are tied to Michael Jackson’s music, like watching the Thriller video when we were far too young, loving it and being terrified in equal parts.
By the eighties, Michael had already stepped away from the Jackson Five and transformed into a global superstar. As a child on the other side of the world, his music felt almost magical. It travelled across borders in a time before social media as if distance did not apply. His songs arrived in our home like sparks, bright, exciting and impossible to ignore.
In our house, at least one of us would be running around in a makeshift cape, absolutely convinced we could fly like Christopher Reeve’s Superman. Another, practising the moonwalk while wearing one glove, with the kind of determination only children have, trying to get the glide just right. And then there was the Smooth Criminal lean, the move that defied physics and common sense. If you know, you know.
It was the same at school, we battled over who had the best moonwalk or lean.
His music and sense of theatre stitched themselves into our earliest memories, the ones that still make me smile decades later. And of course, the debates on which were the best songs.
The Ones That Live Rent Free in My Head
Every family has their favourites, every friendship has its arguments on the best songs by Michael Jackson. It tends to spark loud opinions, dramatic sighs and at least one person insisting everyone else is wrong.
But these are my Top 10 +1 (sorry, I really struggled to get it down to 10 and still feel bad about the ones that didn’t make the list because lets face it, his songs were all magic).
- Man in the Mirror – This one grew with me. As a child it felt serious and important, even if I did not fully understand why. As an adult it feels grounding. A reminder that real change starts close to home, unglamorous and honest.
- Thriller – Fear and fascination wrapped into one unforgettable experience. Watching the video when we were far too young, hiding slightly while refusing to look away. It was terrifying and thrilling in equal measure and nothing else was quite like it.
- Bad– This was pure confidence. Loud, cheeky and full of swagger. It made you feel brave just by listening to it, like you could take on the world or at least the playground. We had our own version of the chorus. It butchered the lyrics, but we thought it was brilliant.
- They Don’t Care About Us -This song hits harder with time. The anger, the frustration, the refusal to be silent. It feels honest in a way that few songs dare to be and somehow more relevant now than it ever was back then.
- Smooth Criminal – The drama. The rhythm. The impossible lean. This was performance at its absolute best. A song that played like a short film, leaving you completely mesmerised every time.
- Wanna Be Startin Somethin – Pure energy from the first beat. And that hook that we all sang with total confidence and absolutely no idea what we were saying. I was fully grown before I finally learned the real words. Be honest, you just sang it in your head again.
- Beat It – This felt urgent and electric. Music that demanded movement. It played at full volume, usually with someone pretending to air guitar or attempting dance moves they could not pull off.
- Black or White – Bright, joyful and full of hope. This song felt like a celebration of difference at a time when that message really mattered. And yes, you know the move. Everyone does.
- Earth Song -Deeply emotional and haunting. This one made you stop and listen properly. It asked questions that were uncomfortable but necessary and stayed with you long after the music ended.
- You Rock My World -Smooth and confident. It was very much a noughties moment.
- Heal the World -Gentle, sincere and idealistic. Easy to dismiss if you are feeling cynical, but impossible not to feel if you let it in. It came from a place of genuine hope, and that still matters.
The Soundtrack That Grew Up With Us
As time passed, the music stayed with me, but my understanding of the man behind it began to change. Childhood joy slowly made room for adult awareness. Watching Michael Jackson grow older in the public eye meant seeing not just the performer, but the weight he carried too.
The early noughties were impossible to ignore. Headlines grew louder. Speculation followed him everywhere. Courtrooms replaced concert stages in the news. He denied the accusations made against him and was later cleared in court, but the experience left a mark that lingered long after the verdicts faded from view.
As I got older, I started to notice the difference in him. The guarded smiles. The careful movements. The sense that the world no longer felt safe in the way it once had. It was unsettling to realise that someone who had given so much joy carried so much pain in return.
It taught me something uncomfortable but important. Being gifted does not protect you. Being loved does not guarantee kindness in return.
And still, through it all, the music endured.
The Shock of His Death
Then came the moment none of us were ready for. The kind of moment that freezes time while your brain tries to catch up. Michael Jackson was gone. It did not feel real.
He was only fifty, preparing for a return that was meant to feel like hope. A chance to see him back on stage, doing what he had always done best.
It later emerged that he had died after being given a powerful anaesthetic as a sleep aid. Accidental, preventable and deeply sad. The language around it was clinical but the reality felt anything but. It was the final reminder that beneath the fame and spectacle, he had been fragile. human.
Even in his passing, his music did what it always had. It connected people, filled rooms and carried memories.
Why This Film Matters
Michael Jackson was not perfect. None of us are. But he was extraordinary in the way that matters. He created something that lasted beyond the noise, beyond the headlines, beyond him.
His music has never just been something I listened to. It has been something I carried. Through childhood excitement, teenage angst, adult reflection and quiet moments when a familiar song suddenly makes the world feel smaller and kinder again.
That is why this film matters to me. Not because I expect answers or neat conclusions, but because I want to see the whole story told with care. The joy and brilliance, yes, but also the fragility and humanity. I want to sit with the complexity rather than look away from it.
I already know I will watch it more than once. I imagine sitting in the cinema as the lights fade, surrounded by strangers who somehow feel familiar. Different lives, different stories, the same soundtrack.
I will probably message my brother afterwards. We will talk about the scenes that stayed with us, the songs we still argue over, the moments that took us straight back to being kids again.
And that is the thing. Time passes. People change. Icons fade from view. But the music remains. Still playing. Still connecting. Still reminding us of who we were and sometimes who we hope to be.
Michael Jackson may have left the world, but what he created never did.
Thank you for reading.
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