“We don’t let racists adopt black children. For obvious reasons, right? Well, maybe we shouldn’t let people who are anti-gay religious bigots—or who consort with them—adopt gay children. And since we don’t know which children are going to be gay or lesbian until they grow up, um, maybe we shouldn’t let religious bigots adopt at all.”—Dan Savage (via macbean) (via lgbtlaughs)
Winnipeg winters are all cloudy and dark, but today, as I was sitting on the bus, listening to One Day in Your Life, it was actually sunny outside.
Right after the line, “just call my name, and I’ll be there,” there’s a bit of interlude, and as the music swelled up, as if on cue, our bus pulled out of the shady street and onto the bigger road and the sun burst through the windows. I looked up and saw a rainbow in the sky. A huge honking rainbow in the middle of Winnipegan winter.
“They get so religiously extreme that they deny reality. They’re like, ‘Gay doesn’t exist. You don’t see gay in the natural world.’ You know what I don’t see as much in the natural world? Angels — those are half-human, half-bird creatures, everybody. The devil is half-man, half-goat. I’ve seen gays more is all I’m saying.”—Myq Kaplan (via janedoe225)
Your Obsessive Love Or Hatred Of Me Means Nothing In The Grand Scheme Of Geological Time (by Justin Bieber)
As the undisputed No. 1 teen pop sensation in the world, I have become something of a fulcrum upon which the extremes of human emotion pivot. On one side, you have people who have vaunted me to such lofty heights it is tantamount to deification; on the other, my high-spirited song-and-dance routines elicit an almost murderous rage. But, I ask, when viewed within the context of the geologic time≠scale, wherein chronological development is measured by evolutionary and stratigraphic events over countless eons rather than transitory human experience, what does any of it truly matter?
Quite simply put, it doesn’t. Your adoration or loathing of me, a 17-year-old entertainer from Canada, is no more significant than a grain of sand on a beach, disappearing when Earth’s mighty oceans rise and then retreat—as they will hundreds of thousands of millions of times until the sun is extinguished and the pyramids, the Taj Mahal, Rick Ross, the Great Wall of China, and everything else even remotely related to our feeble, fleeting species are but forgotten whispers in one planet’s geochronology.
Ask yourself: What then will all your hyperbolic reverence or vitriolic bile even mean? To what do your hours spent online fawning over or vilifying me because of my Grammy performance amount when compared to a recent scientific finding that, as the Pacific and North American tectonic plates collide, the mountains north of Los Angeles will, over the next 100 million years, grow to peaks higher than the Himalayas, only to be eroded down to pebbles by millennia of wind and rain?
Forgive me. But please don’t think that because of my fame I place myself above the futile scrabbling of mankind and its ephemeral perception of me as being either “adorable” or “the worst”; quite the contrary. In fact, it is because of my celebrity that I know I matter no more or less than any other human being among the many billions living or dead. When I tweet about the fact that I have cut my iconic hair and it is re-tweeted 300,000 times in a day, there is no better juxtaposition than to place that trifling 24 hours against the 10,000 years it will take Byrd Glacier to move across Antarctica’s vast expanses of silent white.
In many ways, grasping the infinitesimal speck humanity constitutes is a source of great comfort. Even while I am in the midst of recording vocals in the studio or appearing on a daytime television program, it is admittedly seductive to stop for a moment and stare unblinking into the void and consider that, in terms of the ever-widening parabola made by the imperceptible slowing of Earth’s axis, soon everything—this planet, the moon, myself, the Milky Way galaxy, Usher, and all of your pointless mooning and disdain—will be forever silenced by the unstoppable spiral into total entropy.
Even the faintest memory of my dear, sweet friend Ellen DeGeneres will be swallowed by the cataclysmic crush of all matter collapsing in on itself.
I suppose we’ve come to the point where we should just plainly state the ugly truth of all this: If you expend any energy at all either obsessively doting on me or hating me with the very fiber of your being, then I’m sad to say you are squandering your brief window as a cognizant being in this universe. Unfortu≠nately, I cannot tell you how better to use your comically tiny duration of sentience. Perhaps tell your family you love them; ponder the intricate beauty of a dew-flecked spiderweb; listen to Nicki Minaj’s very good studio debut Pink Friday. In the end, however, none of these things will matter all that much either, not in the great and widening chasm of geological time—let alone when one considers the age of the cosmos from which it has sprung. But maybe in these ways you can draw a brief moment of respite from the existential dread. Ultimately, I believe that this is all one can reasonably hope for.
Yesterday I cried watching the Michael Jackson memorial. I cried for a little black boy who felt the world didn’t understand him. I cried for a little black boy who spent his adulthood chasing his childhood. And I thought about all the young black boys out there who may too feel that the world
<p>Hey… I want to ask you something. What do you think about that polemic about the Michael’s album, that Jason Malachi sang Keep your head up, Monster and Breaking News? I believe those songs are sang by Michael… but I’m curious about your opinion.</p>
I also believe the main vocals are Michael’s! Haha and if they did get an “impersonator”, I really doubt they’d pick Malachi, one of the most recognizable ones, especially when there are far better impersonators out there.
There is evidently quite a bit of vocal layering, attempts to digitally correct a few bad notes and there’s also a chance the vibrato was added in digitally (which is stupid but possible). Also, there’s James Porte and other background singers filling out the song which makes it sound strange since we’re used to Michael singing a lot of his background vocals.
Obviously he’s not singing at his fullest, you’re not really supposed to for home demos. I can imagine that the original vocals on these tracks were done casually, and not a whole lot was put down.
This is particularly evident in the a cappella for Breaking News where they cut and pasted vocals. If they had a full blown impersonator, there would be no need to do this. Another imperfection is the snort in the song (maybe Michael was sick?) and if they reallly hired someone else for that song, they would get it as perfect as possible.
In Monster, the vocals were sped up to fit the beat of the song. Also, the Cascio’s home studio was nowhere near as professional as a studio Michael normally worked. Teddy Riley said that the original vocals were definitely nowhere near releasable. I can imagine that there was a lot of background noise and in order to remove these frequencies, I’m sure frequencies in Michael’s voice were also cut out, distorting what he actually sounded like. Eddie Cascio also mentioned that Michael recorded in a shower.
Also, let’s just briefly compare the trustworthiness of the Cascios compared to the Jackson family.. The Cascios have done more for Michael’s image in that 5 minute Oprah interview than the Jacksons have done in.. oh I dont know, years? There’s a reason why Michael spent more time with the Cascios than his own family (who publicly declare him as a drug addict even though the autopsy says otherwise /really bitter).
If Taj & Tarryl really thought the tracks were fake, Taj would not announce this a couple days before Breaking News aired when he said he was well aware of the track being fake right when he heard it. He could also easily go to court if he had any proof since this would be a serious crime. But of course, he and Tarryl just mouthed off on Twitter. I mean, what if he said Hollywood Tonight was fake? (But he didn’t, because you know, he’s actually on that track). Everyone knows once an idea is planted, conspiracy spreads in the MJ fan community like wildfire. Even if we write off the rumors, you can’t say the idea isn’t there. Some room for doubt was made, whether we like to admit it or not. If you say, “Don’t think about elephants”, well what are you thinking about? Elephants! /inception
This is a much longer answer than I originally intended haha but I wanted to bring up all of these points. Ultimately, no one can say for sure who the main vocalist is, but this is the most logical argument to me.