Leslie Gray Streeter George Michael (left) and Andrew Ridgeley of the 1980s duo Wham! of the George Michael concert, and see more from summer concerts at: PalmBeachPost.comconcerts
I know, I know: Wake me up, I’m a yo-yo. But Michael’s music – and that pretty face – meant a lot to me as a teenage girl.
I guess you never know which singers and bands are going to prominently figure in the history of your formative years, and which ones will just be faces on albums that you hide when company comes over.
Twenty-five years ago, I’d never have believed that George Michael, then the lead singer of a group I didn’t even like, would frequently pop up in my personal timeline. But the former Wham! and solo heartthrob, or at least his music and his pretty, pretty face, keeps appearing in a lot of my adolescent and early adult memories.
And unlike a lot of the stuff I used to listen to, Michael, who appears at BankAtlantic Center on Sunday, is a musical crush I’ll admit to. And given the enthusiasm for his sold-out greatest hits tour, I can’t be the only one.
So break out the “Choose Life” T-shirts and the tight “Faith” video jeans. I won’t tell.
Here’s my personal George Michael timeline:
Spring, 1983, Saudi Arabian International School, Riyadh:
At my middle school talent show, I see two seventh-grade British girls in painters’ caps do an awkward dance that involves slapping each other’s hands and stomping to some god-awful song called Wham! Rap by Wham! It appears to be about how cool unemployment is. Not sure how Wham! got a hit, but I’m sure they’ll never have another one.
Fall, 1984, Baltimore:
Apparently, my 12-year-old prognosticating skills were poor, because not only have Wham! had more hits, but now I love them, mostly because I now know what George Michael looks like. I am now torturing my parents, freaking out if anyone turns away from Wake Me Up Before You Go-Go on the car radio, and scouring local Spencer Gifts stores for “Choose Life” T-shirts and neon gloves like George wore in the video. Those items are fortunately beyond the reach of my allowance, which, in retrospect, will prevent me from one day having to burn any embarrassing pictures wearing them.
December 1984:
This is the best Christmas ever, as I get two George Michael-related presents! My best friend Kim’s mom gives me the 45 of Band-Aid’s Do They Know It’s Christmas? where he’s soulfully singing about poor starving Africans, which makes him more dreamy. And somebody I don’t remember who gives me acid lemonade-colored neon nylon socks, which I stretch over my hands and pretend are gloves like George’s. Again, I’ll be thankful no cameras were present.
February 1985:
Careless Whisper hits No. 1 on the Billboard Hot 100, accompanied by a naughty video where George cheats on his nice mousy-ish girlfriend with some tramp who looks like a vampire. I’m scandalized, because I’m a nice girl, and if George prefers trampy vampires, how will we ever be together? And how hard is it to become a vampire, anyway?
April 26, 1985:
At my 14th birthday slumber party I name the plastic husband peg in my pink “Game of Life” car “George Michael.” My sister’s stupid friend Melanie, who I can’t stand now but who will, in 14 years, name me her daughter’s godmother, “accidentally” bumps my plastic peg from my car, rolls the Leslie peg with her car, and claims George as her own so that she may “comfort” him. I hate birthdays.
July 13, 1985:
My sister and I spend the entire day parked in front of our big color console TV watching Live Aid, featuring my current heartthrobs Duran Du-ran, the Police and George, who sings with Elton John. Poor Andrew “Other Guy In Wham!” Ridgeley is relegated to backup singer status. I wonder if they’re breaking up, and then go back to swooning over George.
Spring 1986, suburban Maryland:
Eating lunch at my grandmother’s kitchen, I hear a newscast that Wham! is, indeed, breaking up. I’m not sure what is more disturbing the demise of one of my favorite bands, or the fact that in 1986, this was considered breaking news.
Winter 1988:
I have been distraught for days since watching Debi Thomas, the first black woman to medal in the Winter Olympics, stumble on the ice and come in third. She redeems herself, if not the medal, during the non-judged exhibition, where she skates to a George Michael song from his album Faith called One More Try. I burst into tears. As George hits the climactic high note, Debi throws herself into the air and nails the jumps she’d missed in competition. I weep.
1990, University of Maryland:
I’m a freshman struggling to reconcile my newer, sophisticated self with the part of me that still likes wearing my Mickey Mouse ears in my dorm room. I’m apparently not the only one George releases Freedom 90, declaring his gratefulness for his past but the need to be his own man. The only bad thing about the video is that it stars naked girl supermodels and not George. This may only be a problem for me.
1991:
A dorm friend introduces me to the early work of neo-crooner Harry Connick Jr. I love it, but something about it sounds familiar, leading me to dust off my very old Faith cassette and fast forward to Kissing A Fool. Apparently George was ahead of the trend! This is so much better than Want Your Sex.
1998:
I haven’t thought about George Michael in ages, having moved on to paying my own rent and jamming at Lilith Fair. But he’s all over the news with his arrest for “engaging in a lewd act” with an undercover policeman in a Los Angeles park’s bathroom, confirming ages-old rumors that he’s gay. I’m now happy with my decision not to become a vampire so that George Michael would love me, as that seems not to have mattered.
1999, York, Pa.:
I buy my first house, and spend my first night in my new home sitting on the front stoop, waiting for the man I’m in love with to drop by. He never does. A few weeks later, I find a George Michael CD I borrowed from my sister and spend the next couple of days curled up on my bed, listening to Kissing A Fool and singing the line “I’m never gonna be your star” over and over again, crying and probably eating cheese.
August 2008, Florida:
George Michael is scheduled to come to BankAtlantic Center on Sunday. As a birthday present, I invite my old friend Melanie, who once pretended to run me over with a plastic Game of Life car to get “George” for herself. She’s promised to behave herself this time. But I’ll be standing out of her way in the parking lot.
