I've tried to write this blog post a few times. Each time, I get sucked down the rabbit hole of panicking about how, if I died at 53, I'd be easily over halfway through my life, and not have achieved one iota of what George Michael managed. When I hit 30 not too long ago, I made similar jokes - in hindsight, little more than callous quips designed to rile up my wife. She prefers not to think about the fact that she will likely outlive me, given our 7 year age gap and the natural longevity afforded to women. It's fascinating to think that I was singing Careless Whisper before she was even born. It was probably the first artwork I ever loved, and, along with Gerry Rafferty's Baker Street, the reason I took up the sax.
Careless Whisper - Make It Big (1984)
Knowing we've never seen eye to eye on his music, I appreciated my wife's patience and understanding as I drowned my pillow on Christmas Eve. I'm not often given to hero worship, but amongst the small pool of people I could be said to idolise, George was a titan, equalled only by John Mayer in terms of influence on my songwriting, and as a reflection of my artistic self. His Greek Cypriot heritage struck a chord with my inner Turk, laying out a roadmap for how someone like me could become a star. His Faith look - leather jacket, jeans, shades - had such a strong impact that it's still the dominant theme of my wardrobe 30 years later. And his public sexuality was an early salve against homophobia - how could someone who was supposed to be evil make such beautiful music?
One More Try - Faith (1987)
As I got older, I began to appreciate different aspects of George's stardom. His refusal to be confined by genre and his battle against Sony were both evidence of a shared stubborn commitment to principle, an aversion to kowtowing to expectation or pressure. The way he used his voice - singing, humour, political activism - was a daily affirmation of one of my favourite quotes: "Art should disturb the comfortable, and comfort the disturbed" (Cesar Chavez). Whether he was sticking up for nurses and miners, highlighting US hypocrisy on his public outing, or taking the piss out of Bush & Blair, George practised what he preached, even more clearly now with the myriad stories of generosity that have emerged since his death.
Freedom! '90 - Listen Without Prejudice (1990)
But I think his honesty and vulnerability are what will best endure. Like all great artists, even when focusing about the particular, he spoke to a shared experience, allowing us a glimpse into an unvarnished soul, one we could not help but recognise as kindred with our own. That may not have been my wife's experience, or yours, but it was a true for millions of people around the world, many of whom are, like me, at a loss to explain how it is they feel so bereft. Even despite all his recent woes, I couldn't escape the feeling there was another great age of George Michael yet to come, another facet to his artistry that had yet to surface. My father, who first introduced me to George's music, took me to see him at Wembley Arena in 2006: though his star was clearly fading, and he was not as his best, there were glimpses of a sleeping giant, waiting to rise again, if only the stars could align.
I Can't Make You Love Me (cover of Bonnie Raitt) - Older (1997)
You can waste a lot of time waiting on potential - I should know, which is why I'm using this shock, this grief, this unfavourable comparison, to spur me on to greater things. And unless there's a wealth of unreleased material hiding in his home studio, we'll probably never see that last hurrah we were clinging onto, the ultimate evolution to crown his career. But the potential he did realise, what he left us with, is a cherished catalogue of craftsmanship, songs of his own and of people that he admired that chart an incredible. emotional, and loss-filled life. The suicides of his uncle and grandfather, the deaths of his mother and his partner Anselmo - these were deeply scarring episodes that he had to work through without peace or privacy. Instead, he poured that grief into his music, and the world is richer for it.
My Mother Had A Brother - Patience (2004)
I could talk about about how much his music shaped mine; how his penchant for taking his time has made it hard for me to write a song under 5 minutes; how Careless Whisper is the blueprint for most of what I wrote as a teenager. But the reality is I have to show, not tell. For everyone for whom George's music was the original spark of inspiration, we have to pick up the baton, to make ourselves vulnerable, to comfort the disturbed and disturb the comfortable. And disturbed as we are by his death, and what genius might have been lost, there's comfort to be found in his own words:
"And teacher there are things that I still have to learn
But the one thing I have is my pride
Oh so I don't want to learn to hold you, touch you
Think that you're mine
Because there ain't no joy for an uptown boy
Who just isn't willing to try
I'm so cold inside
Maybe just one more try"
Goodbye, George. I'll keep trying for you. I hope that's what you would have wanted.