The Jacksons, led by Michael, launch a controversial tour
They pulled it off. And a good thing too. For a while there it was looking a little close.
The Jacksons' Victory Tour, undertaken by Michael and his brothers as a fond and hugely remunerative farewell to familial musicmaking, was one of the most eagerly awaited and certainly the most ballyhooed pop-concert series of the year. It had also started to become the most controversial, in part because the tour organizers seemed at odds with one another and with the ideals that Michael, especially, has tried to embody. Tickets were too pricey; lots of fans were getting cut out. Disorganization and ill will were rampant. Greed was keeping pace with showmanship and good p.r. manners, and seemed to be gaining on both. So when Michael and four of his brothers took the stage last Friday night at Arrowhead Stadium in Kansas City, Mo., for the first show of a tour that will wind on into autumn, a lot was hanging in the balance.
The boys tipped the scales decidedly in their favor. No doubt about it: the Jacksons' tour is a real show-business extravaganza, a four-star eye-glazer and ear-bender replete with laser effects, magic tricks, assorted marvelous machines, sundry intermittent detonations, a finale full of fireworks... and, oh yes, a healthy portion of good solid funk. Soul Train meets Star Wars on the outskirts of Las Vegas. A lot of—quite literal—bang for the buck.
This is not the usual rock show. Certainly it is not the usual rock-show audience. Perhaps no major entertainer has ever attracted as many preadolescent children as Michael Jackson has. At Arrowhead the audience of approximately 45,000 was filled with them, staring enraptured at all the whiz-bang effects. The older ones danced on their seats. The younger ones bopped around in the arms of their equally delighted parents. The night of music became a sort of day at Disneyland, and knowing Michael's much publicized doting on the works of Old Uncle Walt, this surely was part of the plan.
By consensus of rumor, backstage gossip and onstage evidence, this is Michael's show all the way. The opening dispels any doubts on that point. In a blitzkrieg of light, sound, lasers and smoke, shambling creatures that resemble Big Bird's pal Mr. Snuffle-Upagus re-enact a short, skewered version of The Sword in the Stone. The young man who yanks the steel out of the rock turns out, of course, to be our Michael, and the lasers reflecting off the blade into the far reaches of the stadium make him look for a moment like a dashboard saint from a head shop. This prologue is dramatic, funny and, at the end, nicely self-mocking. Spoilsports might argue that it does not have a great deal to do with the music, but then—along with cameras, alcoholic beverages and recording devices—spoilsports are not welcome at the Victory Tour. All those congenial security guards will see to it.