Headlines in a Rio De Janerio paper

This will not be another tribute; voices have already been worn out, tears so well spent in every corner of the world. But I will push on the necessity of doing this, for like many kids growing up in the 90s, his music was seamlessly woven into my life. I hesitate to think what it was like back then without those beats, those dance moves that permeated my happy childhood.

As Debbie puts it rather plainly, ‘The sadness hasn’t sunk in yet’. I was never encouraged to idolize, and so, the passing of such a great musical genius brings but a mere stir to my heart. The loss is still there, the emptiness still hangs. Debbie shared with me her memories of attending his concert in Adelaide many years ago. I couldn’t help feeling some shreds of jealousy, for I had always wanted to see him perform.

I was eleven when he brought the HIStory tour to Singapore. Back then, I used to have dance-offs with my brother, where we would sing our hearts out loud, each choreographed movement in his videos thoroughly memorised. When a new album came out, Dad would reward us with a cassette tape if we behaved. I once stared rather intently at his curly hair on the cover of ‘Bad’. I was riveted with the interchanging faces in the ‘Black or White’ video. I wondered who Annie was in ‘Smooth Criminal’. When he came to town, I was ecstatic beyond compare. My Aunt had spare tickets and because I was deemed too young (and I suppose, too short) I could not go. I stayed up late though, waiting for my brother to return, hanging on to every description he could muster as we sat on his bed, his excitement transpired to me.

Lisa Marie Presley wrote a touching piece on her MySpace blog; I implore you to read it for it asks, “How much can one sacrifice for love?”

I muttered, ‘At the end of it all, I think he just wanted someone to love and understand him.’ Debbie rebutted with a ‘I think he needed to love himself just a little more.’

Despite his eccentricities, he was just a broken toy waiting to be fixed. I never felt the curiosity with the construction of Neverland – was he not just another person who found joy in material fashion; had he not shared it with underprivileged kids who had no childhood? All those baseless accusations of molestation were just greedy hands disguised. To think that the one thing he had found comfort in – the innocence and bliss of youth – would so easily stab him in the back. He must have retreated further, trying to seek solace in physical reconstructions, purchasing items to fill the gaps, listening to others’ words, only to find that it would take more to cure the deepening heaviness in his heart.

In an Adrienne Rich poem, it was written – ‘If your voice could overcome these waters, what would it say?’ The painkillers finally worked; as he drifted into a state of unceasing analgesia, I wonder what thoughts coursed through him. Could this be it; could this be the finale of my life? A shot up my arm like a knife through my heart; my breath taken as swiftly as my fame had come. To die in a house that is not even my home. What would my kids be without me? I will leave them with my debt; their hands on a legacy that is now a scripted history where the curtains will fall on this moment; how short life can be. As now, there is no time to tie loose ends; for now, my peace will finally begin.

Or he may have said, ‘Well, this is another controversy for the headlines tomorrow.’

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Notes:
I must have been the last person to know: sitting by the old dodgy computer in the hospital cafeteria at lunch time, I had logged on to Facebook to check the address of a gathering I was invited to. The status updates stunned me; Google searches forced me into denial.

May Peace be with you, Michael.

It is indeed quite justifiable for me to rant here about a heightened want - no, need - to immortalise the Australian Cast’s performance of the Phantom of the Opera. Such a long, pregnant pause (of not updating) can only be matched by an intense desire to be sung once more by Anthony Warlow. For want of a quote from the musical; ‘you alone can make my song take flight!‘

Debbie was kind enough to secure us a (free!) Corporate Box for the performance. In a wisp of unimagined luxury, we - namely me, Yanty and mom, Jordan and parents - had our own exclusive room with a kichenette that was just a stone’s throw away from the bar and toilets. The balcony housed our seats; the stage a satisfactory distance (for I had paid top-notch tickets at Her Majesty’s in Melbourne two years ago only to be at the front rows, my view compromised by pillars). And if that was not good enough, the performance - like cheese, for I have not tasted wine - has aged immeasurably well with time. The cast, save for Raoul, was the very same that had enchanted me in Melbourne. I cannot very easily describe the effect Warlow’s fine acting had on me, but the waves of shivers I felt as he emoted his emotions out was like a metronome, kept in time with the pulsating beats of my heart. My right hand was always poised at the base of my neck; I sang along in whispers, because I am a Phantom Phreak and am none too ashamed.

Listen, and I implore you - you must! Cast aside the coughs, the whistles, the claps and the sound of breathing in these recordings, for their inferior quality can still showcase the fine talent that emanates from their core!

#1 Warlow performing the title piece ‘The Phantom of the Opera’ with Ana Marina as Christine. I had only watched Julie Goodwin perform on both occasions.

#2 Warlow doing one of my favourite emo pieces: a reprise of ‘All I Ask of You’. Can you not feel the betrayal, the compassionate hate emanating from his pores?!

#3 Warlow and Maree Johnson sing ‘Wandering Child’. Another favourite scene! (Though the Raoul sounds like a right ol’ whiny chap)

And when the the final line was sung - ‘You alone can make my song take flight/It’s over now, the music of the night’ - my heart sank, both with despair that I would not see this cast perform again, and for the Phantom’s tragic demise. Andrew Lloyd Webber himself has said that his favourite Phantoms are two - the original Michael Crawford, and Anthony Warlow.

I have achieved the impossible; I have fallen in love with a voice.

Now that my rendition is done, perhaps I should resume my ways and revert to a normal, sensible human being.

If you have two minutes to spare - and you really do - you must watch the first bit of this beautiful performance by French-Indonesian singer Anggun; it strikes the right chords still.

In Indonesian:
Ku harap mentari pagi
Tak menyambutku
Harap sinar rembulan
Tutup mataku
Selamanya

Merujuk abadi
Selamanya

English translation:
I wish the morning sun
Would not greet me
That the moon’s rays
Would close my eyes
Forever

Since you’ve left me
Away from this earth
Leaving me by myself

Bring down the sun
Tease the stars
Turn north to south

What is this for?
What is this all for?

Please take my fragmented soul
I don’t want it anymore

Cut my ties from this world
I wish to go

To search for eternity
Forever