Growing up, the two consistent men of music in my life were Michael Jackson and Prince. Michael came first, maybe even while in the womb, in part due to my mom’s love of him. My first live concert was The Jacksons’ Victory Tour, and our seats were in the old Cleveland Browns stadium on the field. This was back in the day when people still camped out down at the concert venues or outside of Ticketron stations. To have seats on the field, in a row close enough that we could see the sequined details of their pants, was a definite coup on her part. We danced. We screamed. We wished for Michael to throw his sequined glove in our direction (or Marlon and Randy their sweaty towels). And we displayed our best zombie moves while dancing to Thriller.
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