Recommended reading while listening to Green Day's 'Basket Case'.
I wrote a song using that day's experience as inspiration. It wasn't exactly the kind of track that fit a collaboration with Michael Jackson, but if all else failed, I could just release it as an Enfants Terribles single or include it as a B-side.
The name of the second song I composed after coming to this world was 'Basket Case.' In America, the term is used for someone who is exhausted and stressed; in the UK, it refers to someone who is losing their mind. Even though the phrase itself never appears in the lyrics, I chose it as the title because I felt it perfectly mirrored my current situation.
This song is packed with my narrative and my philosophy on music. Music should be simple. It shouldn't be overly complex or difficult to listen to. An artist should take a great, accessible melody and imbue it with their own story.
Because this track is punk rock—a genre where raw, unrefined emotion is everything—it's something that could never be made using Michael Jackson's methods. A band has the band's way, and a solo singer has the solo singer's way. Jackson's method is correct, but so is mine.
With 'Basket Case,' I intended to seize control of the studio back for Enfants Terribles. Michael Jackson and we were equal artists, not teacher and disciples.
He was treating us like students, but we have our own path. There are no right answers in music, so if both parties are musicians, they shouldn't be in a one-sided teaching relationship—they should be exchanging ideas.
Thus, I planned to convince him using my own methods. I would show him a perspective he couldn't have known because of the absence of band music in this world.
Last time, I had kept my mouth shut, mesmerized by Michael Jackson's talent and know-how. But isn't life too short to spend it only listening to what others have to say?
I entered the studio holding the sheet music. Perhaps because I was late finishing the composition, Shuji, Yokishi, and Michael Jackson were already gathered there.
"Mr. Jackson, this is my response to our last conversation."
I said that and handed the sheet music to Yokishi and Shuji.
"The leader always causes trouble whenever he has that look on his face," Shuji remarked.
"Leader? When did you write something like this...?" Yokishi added, surprised.
I ignored their comments and quietly picked up my guitar. Last time, I had made a pathetic display of myself due to a sense of inferiority regarding talent, but not this time.
Just as we had learned from his expertise, he needed to learn from us. While the Michael Jackson of my previous life was a master, the Michael Jackson of this life was still somewhat unrefined in handling instrumental sounds. Specifically, he didn't seem to fully grasp the distinction between 'Rock' and 'Pop,' or the difference between organic instrument tones and synthesized machine sounds.
As long as he failed to recognize that gap, our collaboration would eventually hit a wall anyway.
This song is my own autobiography.
All the success I've achieved so far was only possible because I stole inspiration from the geniuses of the past. I was being hailed as a genius who represented the era, but that title is a heavy burden to bear.
After all, in the beginning, I just wanted to start a band.
Because of that, I carried a constant anxiety about the future.
I worried about what would happen once I finished releasing all the songs I remembered. By then, Yokishi and Shuji's skills would have improved so drastically that I might find it difficult even to keep up with them.
In this world, those with stars in their eyes are the genuine geniuses, and compared to them, I was always just a dullard.
That was why I was restless.
Especially since I had always been shouting 'Rock 'n' Roll' at the top of my lungs.
Isn't it a joke? I, who threw away affectation and lies to cry out for sincerity, am actually the person most filled with lies.
Publicly, I scream for sincerity, while my success is built on the lie of stolen inspiration. Every time I thought about that contradiction, I felt like I was going to collapse.
What would happen if my secret was revealed? Would I be met with nothing but contempt?
But now is not the time for such worries. I have band members who trust and follow me, and a little girl who relies on me. That's why I can't afford to break down yet.
For now, I cast those thoughts aside. Those are worries to be had after achieving success. What could be more pathetic than giving up on the race because you were too busy worrying?
Even if I burn up and disappear while running, I will not stop. Because it is better to burn out in a single blaze than to slowly fade away.
.
.
.
.
.
Watching the performance, Michael Jackson could not help but admit it. He had been trapped in his own prejudices. The way they handled instrument sounds was bound to be different from his own methods. While he hadn't intended to look down on them, he had unconsciously viewed them as children who needed his tutoring.
'I suppose I've truly grown old,' he thought.
He was once the man who created music by sticking to his own methods even when everyone else opposed them. Musicians shouldn't have one side teaching the other; they should exchange with one another. He was currently doing the very thing he had vowed never to do in his youth.
If this was the method of the new era, then his job wasn't to dismiss it as wrong, but to melt it into his own style.
"You really got me with that one," he admitted.
Michael Jackson felt like he could produce a truly legendary piece of music for the first time in a while. Now that he understood a new approach, countless musical ideas were flooding his mind.
For the first time in a long time, the King felt that music was going to be fun.
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