[Image courtesy jacquigal.com]

Courtesy theblacksocialite.blogspot.com

The final installment of the five-part series on Michael Jackson discusses the 1991  hit, “Remember the Time.”  Aside from an incredible nine-minute long video, featuring cameos form both Eddie Murphy and Magic Johnson, the song is an excellent example of a widespread cognitive phenomenon.   For the full Pop Psychology series Michael Jackson series, visit Part One on “Man In The Mirror,” Part Two on “Don’t Stop ‘Till  You Get Enough,” Part Three on “Black Or White” and Part Four on “They Don’t Care About Us.”

With “Remember the Time,” I like to think that I have chosen to save the best for last.  The second single off the Dangerous album remains my favorite Jackson song.  There are a many features to like about “Remember the Time”: the smooth beat; the passion in Michael’s voice, especially near the end; the simple but contagious chorus.  Ultimately, though, the defining characteristic in a Jackson track is in the reaction it evokes.  More than any other Jackson song, “Remember the Time” makes me want to dance, dance, dance.

It’s pretty clear that the song is devoted to Michael’s reflections on a recently failed relationship.

“Do you remember when we fell in love?” he asks as the song opens.

“Do you remember the time when we first met?“ he inquires in the track’s chorus.

“I bet you remember,” he continuously reassures himself.

Michael seems positively certain that his romantic interest specifically remembers the exact conditions of the beginning of their relationship.   He is also confident in his own memories of the situation.  Now that their love has ended, Michael can only hold onto to his memories. “Those sweet memories will always be dear to me,” Michael sings. “And girl, no matter what was said, I will never forget what we had!”

Unfortunately for Michael, psychology says that he will most assuredly forget much of his time with this unnamed lover.  After all, as cognitive psychologist Michael Gazzaniga writes, “accurate memories are an idea, not a reality of the human condition.”  People continually overestimate the accuracy of their memories, but it is a sad fact of life that our recollections decompose much faster than we could ever realize.

Such rapid decomposition applies to all memories, no matter how insignificant or important.  Even our most influential experiences prove susceptible to inevitable decay.  Psychologists use the term “flashbulb memories” to define memories that people consider to be especially crucial or shocking.  Kennedy’s assassination, the moon landing and even Jackson’s own death fit the typical mold of flashbulb memories; events that burn themselves so strongly into the public consciousness that we all know (or think we know) exactly where we were when they occurred.

The defining study on flashbulb memories was conducted by Duke’s own David Rubin.  On September 12, 2001, as the rest of the world grieved over the previous day’s terrorist attacks, Rubin grieved as well, but he also saw a once in a lifetime opportunity as a memory researcher.  Rubin had 54 Duke undergraduates give their recollection of one very important memory (where they were when they first heard about the events of September 11th) and one rather quotidian moment (a party, sporting event or study session).  All participants were then brought back in either one, six or 32 weeks afterwards and asked to try and recollect both experiences.

Though people were able to give more details about their flashbulb memory, Rubin and his colleagues found that both memories decayed at about equal rates.  So while people may feel that their “flashbulb memories” are impervious to inaccuracies, it appears that our mind treats these experiences as no different than even our most ordinary experiences.  The only aspect that differentiates flashbulb memories from everyday memories is our own overconfidence in their accuracy.  For Michael (and all foolhardy lovers) this means that despite what he may plead, the cherished memories of his partner will soon fade away.  We all think that we “remember the time” of our lives’ most significant moments, but as Rubin shows, this is rarely true.

Shortly after I arrived in Washington D.C. for the summer, I ventured out to famed small concert venue 9:30 Club for a show by the next big thing in hip hop, Wale. While at the concert, I noticed that Who’s Bad, billed as the best Michael Jackson cover band, was playing on a Friday in June.

At that point, my game plan was to show up, grab drinks with friends, hit the dancefloor and dance in a manner as reminiscent of a Shooter’s night as possible while in a much classier capitol city. Can I just say the rest is history? I think I just did.

Skip the sad events of last Thursday and confusion around Michael’s death, and the scene was a little different when I arrived just after 9:00 last Friday. My ticket, which said that doors opened at 8:30, was now valid for the first of two concerts that evening. Cameras and press mobbed the outside of the venue. Tickets were sold out for both shows and a somewhat angry walk-up line had formed. I was now at D.C.’s hottest show of the summer. Most importantly, Who’s Bad was already a few songs into their set. So forgive me; I can’t start from the first time that MJ moonwalked out onto the stage.

Inside, the club was packed. When 9:30 sells out, the upstairs fills in last, and that was less than elbow-room only. The group I was in let the ladies tunnel through strategically and we ended up (wouldn’t you know it!) right next to one of the bars. We walked in to “Smooth Criminal,” which was a great first song to absorb the atmosphere. The band’s front man (Joseph Bell) looked exactly like Michael Jackson in his prime, dressed for the period with ridiculously fluffy technicolor drab and dancer-freindly flair and definitely didn’t have to lip sync. I thought it was my impaired vision from being so far away, but everyone in the club seemed to agree it was awesome.

The crowd was ridiculous. Besides the 1% of people like me that had my tickets before everyone linked the concert on their blogs, twitters and whatever, the audience was a mass of 20-30-year-olds who hadn’t quite grown up and chose to only remember the part of Michael’s life when he was a glowing teenage star. If you looked purposefully, you could find someone teary-eyed or straight up bawling. But you could also see a number of people “thrilled” out of their minds and having a great time doing so.

I have no idea what Michae—Who’s Bad played before I arrived, but it was classic after classic thereafter. Prior to each hit, the band member providing background vocals would transform into an MC, and in a very loud and hip hop way would pump everyone up with grandiose intros that were very confusing and somewhat out of place. But nobody cared, and they provided perfect cover for Michael and the band to change into different outfits, which were sweet. I mean, nobody noticed that the Jackson 5 was six black and white dudes, or that Michael’s version of not aging didn’t involve a new nose or skin color.

At 10:37, after sampling an amazing array of hits from all parts of Michael’s career, a tribute slideshow was shown, featuring a bizarre but loveable collection of photos of Michael as well as awkward pictures of causes he apparently supported. Needless to say, the pictures of starving African children put a little bit of a damper on the otherwise upbeat night.

After the tribute “presentation,” Who’s Bad came back out on stage for one, final, ridiculous, encore. Though Bell had already thrown down a career’s worth of dance moves, the rest of the band joined him for a coordinated dance only rivaled by the videos of MJ himself. And for a moment, the King of Pop lived again.

Online Photography Editor Chase Olivieri, Sports Photography Editor Courtney Douglas, Editorial Page Managing Editor Emily Bray, Chronicle columnist/blogger Jacob Wolff and former Photography Editor Laura Douglas contributed to this article.  For more information on Who’s Bad, visit the band’s Myspace page.

Courtesy musiqueonly.com

Today, Pop Psychology features the controversial 1996 song “They Don’t Care About Us” as the fourth installment in our five-part series on the King of Pop.  For the full MJ experience, read Part One on “Man in the Mirror,”  Part Two on “Don’t Stop ‘Till You Get Enough” and Part Three on “Black or White.”

If Picasso had his Blue Period, then maybe History, with singles like “Scream” and “They Don’t Care About Us,” represents Jackson’s “Angst Period.”  Though later tempered by the poignant “You Are Not Alone” and the almost laughable “Earth Song,” the first sounds off of History were practically vicious.  In “Scream,” Michael and Janet Jackson take aim at the press.  But in “They Don’t Care About Us,” Michael again turns his attention to global injustice.

“They Don’t Care About Us” is a rare Jackson song that did not chart all that well, but this is probably due to circumstances unrelated to the actual musical qualities of the song.  Many claimed that the song was antisemitic, highlighting lyrics such as “Jew me.”  Close friend Steven Spielberg even publicly claimed that he found the track to be offensive.  Although Michael denied any intention of antisemitism, he still decided to re-record the offensive lyrics, even after two million copies of History had already been shipped.  Although “Don’t Care” was a financial success in Europe, American radio stations were reluctant to give it any airtime.  As a result, the song peaked at a disappointing 30 on the US singles charts.

Controversy aside, “They Don’t Care About Us” follows in the footsteps of “Black and White” in attempting to address important social issues, specifically the widespread indifference to global poverty.  Speaking as a citizen of the world and not a global pop icon, Jackson asks, “Am I invisible because you ignore me?” while also claiming that if either Teddy Roosevelt or Martin Luther King were alive, “they wouldn’t let this be.”  The Spike Lee-directed video is set in one of Rio de Janeiro’s infamous favelas, again in an attempt to bring attention to the area’s poverty.

But, when you think about it, we should all be wondering why such a song should even exist.  Why do we need pop icons to urge us to give, whether it be in “We are the World,” Live 8, or the latest remix of “What’s Going On?” I mean, people obviously knew that Brazil, along with many countries, was very, very poor.  Why weren’t Americans giving more to such a cause?

Recently, some clever psychologists have studied this idea, and have come to a but of a paradoxical conclusion: it’s probably because there is so much widespread poverty in the world that its’ more comfortable inhabitants are unwilling to give. One experiment in particular, conducted by Deborah Small, George Lowenstein and Paul Slovic, does an excellent job of highlighting the irrational foundations of making donations.

Participants completed a survey about various technological products, and were given $5 as compensation.  But with this $5 also came a blank envelope and a letter from the charity Save the Children asking for money.  This letter came in three forms.  One form presented only statistical information about starvation in Africa:

Food shortages in Malawi are affecting more than three million children.  In Zambia, severe rainfall deficits have resulted in a 42% drop in maize production from 2000. As a result, an estimated three million Zambians face hunger. Four million Angolans—one third of the population— have been forced to flee their homes. More than 11 million people in Ethiopia need immediate food assistance.

The second group received a form that focused on only one victim:

Any money that you donate will go to Rokia, a 7-year-old girl from Mali, Africa. Rokia is desperately poor, and faces a threat of severe hunger or even starvation. Her life will be changed for the better as a result of your financial gift. With your support, and the support of other caring sponsors, Save the Children will work with Rokia’s family and other members of the community to help feed her, provide her with education, as well as basic medical care and hygiene education.

Finally, a third form was used that had both of the above paragraphs placed on the same sheet.  Participants were then asked to make a donation to Save the Children.

The results are somewhat depressing and even counterintuitive.  Participants who only heard about Rokia gave an average of $2.38 and those who only heard about the statistics behind the starvation gave remarkably less, $1.14.  Yet people who read about the statistics and Rokia only gave $1.43.  For these people, any desire to give created by the Rokia story was deflated with the presence of such overwhelming statistics.  So it’s not really the case that presenting statistics only motivates people less than a personal story.  If anything, showing statistics makes people want to give less.  Apparently, you’d be better off ditching the stats and just saying “Give us some money.”

The authors chalk up their findings to what they call the “identifiable victim effect,” explaining that it is only when we can picture the benefactors of our generosity that we will be willing to give.  Such an explanation appears to make sense.  After all, I can imagine Rokia actually doing something with my $2.  But what is $2 for three million people?  Nothing.

So maybe Michael should have taken a lesson from science on “They Don’t Care About Us.”  A more powerful song would focus less on the bigger picture.  To change minds and open wallets, you’ve got to make it personal.  As Mother Theresa famously said, ‘‘If I look at the mass, I will never act. If I look at the one, I will.’’

Courtesy musicstack.com

In this third installment, Pop Psychology takes a look at Michael’s 1991 hit, “Black or White.”  Part 1 featured “Man in the Mirror,” and Part 2 highlighted “Don’t Stop ’till You Get Enough.”

“Black or White,” is the debut single off the Dangerous album. Not surprisingly, it topped the singles charts for 20 countries.  Although it’s still a very catchy song, it has not aged nearly as well as many of Jackson’s other hits.  Everything about it is just so early 90s, with Bill Bottrell’s rhyming being perhaps the worst offender.  I don’t really know Bill Bottrell; I just know that his verse on “Black or White” makes Will Smith look like Easy E.  What’s more ridiculous is that Epic Records hailed “Black or White” as “a  rock ‘n’ roll dance song about racial harmony.”

Um, what?  Could you imagine Neyo releasing a “rock ‘n’ roll dance song about racial harmony” today and not being made fun of mercilessly?  Hell no.  The 90s.  It was a simpler time.

So back when you could have a number one song about racial harmony, Michael Jackson released a truly great song about racial harmony.  Even this guy can’t screw it up.  Michael, who probably knew a thing or two about the complex issues of race in America, uses the song to hammer home the point that, to him, “it don’t matter if you’re black or white.” Relistening to the track reminded me how the lyrics are surprisingly upfront for a pop single, as Jackson at one point proclaims, “I ain’t scared of no sheets.”  Most international dance hits don’t come with overt references to the KKK. 

In fact, the video for “Black or White,” was deemed so “racy” (pun definitely intended), that the last four minutes were removed by MTV and other television networks, as it depicted Jackson smashing windows with graffitti reading “Hitler Lives,”  “KKK Rules” and “No More Wetbacks.” Today, that kind of material would be fit for a How I Met Your Mother episode.  Again, the 90s.  A simpler time.

Studying racist behavior has always been pretty hard for psychologists.  After all, few of us are willing to openly admit to a stranger that they are racist.  People are too smart and guarded for that.  This problem of actually measuring someone’s racist attitudes honestly particularly plagued Anthony Greenwald, now at the University of Washington.  In one attempt to measure racist attitudes, Greenwald created what is called the Implicit Association Test (IAT).  In essence, the IAT asks people to rapidly categorize various stimuli.  In terms of studying racism, Greenwald hypothesized that it would take racist people an unusually longer time to categorize black faces with “good” words (like “joy” or “love”) than with “bad” words (like “agony” or “terrible”). 

To get a sense of what I am talking about, you can take a demo of the IAT here.  I highly recommend doing so.  Having a computer suggest that you are racist is an interesting experience. 

Though there are plenty of controversies surrounding the test, Greenwald, along with Harvard psychologist Mahzarin Banaji, have presented some intriguing findings.  In one study, researchers had white participants complete the IAT.  They were then asked to interact for a few minutes with a black person, which was videotaped.  These videotapes were then scored for indicators of dicomfort, such as delayed speech, physical distance and tensed body language.  A participant’s score on the IAT did a better job of predicting their discomfort than  self-reported attitudes on race.  In other words, the IAT did a significantly better job at predicting discomfort than simply asking people to tell you how racist they were.  

It’s still up for debate as to exactly how legitimate such findings may be, but the IAT remains a valuable means of studying the implicit, subtle racism that Michal Jackson tried to defeat with a pop song 18 years ago.  The IAT shows us is that racist attitudes are buried deep inside us, revealing themselves only when we are forced to make knee-jerk reactions to stimuli.  It’s hard to believe a dance hit, no matter how catchy, could make much of a dent.