How Should We Remember Our Fallen Stars?

25^th June, 2009. I’m relaxing at home after a stressful couple of weeks of exams. I get a text from my sister and, after opening the message, I don’t believe what I’m reading and instantly flick on a news channel.

Sure enough, Michael Jackson’s dead.

A similarly bewildering moment happened on Sunday morning, when, opening up my computer, social networks were trending Whitney. And another star had passed too soon.

One of the advantages of this modern society is that the integration of technology allows not only this quick relay of information, but in these cases, a sentimental outpouring of emotion when we lose an influential figure.

However, with these new mediums of information, what is appropriate decorum when talking of the deceased? When famous personas have had their lives taken under a microscope as public property, how should that public remember them?

Case in point: sitting with a friend in a café last July, the radio broke the news that Amy Winehouse had passed away. The reporter’s very next words were: “The troubled star, who was known for her drug addictions and love life…” as though her singing career did not merit a mention. Amy has been defined by her misdemeanours.

With the death of Whitney Houston, this act of remembrance is called into question once again. When looking back at such an iconic songstress, should we look to her rise or fall?

Without doubt, the talent of the young Houston cannot be denied. Hailing from musical genes, Whitney was signed at the tender age of 19 after a performance in a Manhattan night club. Her eponymous debut was the biggest selling album by a debut artist when it was released in 1985.

Houston enjoyed seven consecutive number one singles, surpassing the record set by The Beatles, and had notched up over 200million album sales by the late 80s alone. Yet eclipsing even all of these staggering achievements, the resounding number ‘I Will Always Love You’ is the biggest selling single by a female of all time (and is sure to notch up another batch of sales posthumously).

Serene images were shattered with Houston’s decline into abuse of crack cocaine and marijuana. Her tumultuous marriage to Bobby Brown constantly attracted headlines and her once famed voice was broken.

Yet, which era of the star’s life should the public focus on?

Unfortunately, intrigue and bad news are always awarded more coverage: these are the stories with more layers, more depth, high interest and, immorally, make people feel much better about themselves. Even if Whitney had not been signed, there is the possibility that she, or countless others like her, like Amy, would have made headlines for their solvent abuse. They would have been paraded as examples of a breakdown in society, without a saving voice, so to speak.

Of course, perhaps without the fame, these people would not have resorted to drugs, without the attention, they may not have performed crazy stunts, such as hanging children over balconies. But whose fault is this? Are these people victims of self-nurtured decline, or of outer afflictions?

Society is constructed in such a way that we pressure a number of stars into depression, ruts, abuse. From music to film and beyond, pop culture means we are able to highlight the likes of Britney Spears, Macaulay Culkin, Charlie Sheen, Lindsay Lohan as testimony to the breakdown culture that has been nurtured by modern life. Some, like Robert Downey Jr, make it back; other stars, like Kurt Cobain and Winehouse, never defeat their demons.

But do their devils add meaning to their work. In the case of ‘Nevermind’ by Nirvana, material dealt with lost loves, with ‘Back to Black’, the album can be seen as shaped from Winehouse’s indiscretions and media attention.

However, for the stars like Jackson and Houston, whose prime came before a spectacular fall, their records should be remembered and replayed without the clouds of rumour that have come to outshine their talents. For, certainly, these people became famous for their gifts, and should be thought of in this light.

In 2002, Houston told ABC's Diane Sawyer in an interview that: "The biggest devil is me. I'm either my best friend or my worst enemy."

Perceptive as this analysis is, perhaps the biggest devil to Houston, and to her fallen contemporaries, lies in public responsibility.

Just as we facilitate the rise of a star, we are compliant in their demise.

Remembering where I was when I heard of the deaths of these stars proves something: that these people touched our lives with their songs, their albums, or whatever their gifts. We have a public responsibility to keep that spirit of their talents alive.

Addicted to Clubs!

Dirty, stinking, overhyped clubs packed with students are the current trend amongst youngsters just having left home for the first time. However, what draws them to these small boxes where they are shepherded from bar to bar and squashed and beat against the backs of other equally miserable young adults? Could it be the overwhelming sweat? The deafening and monotonously similar beat to every song? The deal breaker of cheap alcohol on an incomprehensible scale? Together, this hellish mix are a catalyst to ephemeral transcendence. Clubs are a new breed of escapist addiction.

In the brief four hours spent partying, there is an intermittent life where the youth can forget the chronic illnesses of the world they are about to inherit.

Nowhere is this more evident than the front pages of newspapers: where the woes of X Factor contestants are splashed across the cover, whilst stories of worth and importance are to be found below page 6.

Sensationalisation of newspaper content is to the detriment of society. Once the reserve of learned persons, and later a symbol of the truths of the day, the papers are now harbingers of doom in their own right. 

Content invariably swings from Z list celebrities of Big Brother or pre-millennium dwindling fame, to the morbid and insipid reporting of global events.

Not that the focus on worldwide news is a symbol of the right direction for these papers: far too often, the stories are run without checking of fact, with rumour thrown in for good measure and with no proffer of future activity. Doom and gloom personified.

Unfortunately, the addiction to this type of throwaway news is a reflection of deeper issues with society and these trends themselves can be traced in the prioritising of paper print. Primarily, we are bombarded with the live problems of stars that may appear relevant to our miserable lives: yet since their lavish or outlandish behaviours are something only quantifiable in their own spectrums, we are left to wonder in bewilderment at how far these fame hungry few abuse their limelight and depict the moral bankruptcy of a generation.

Subsequent items will be of little value: a local event here, a trivial piece on a local person there.

Where moments of true journalism shine are in their ability to relate the stories to the modern day life of many: the daily grind, how such a feature impacts our lives, how these events could develop.

Yet, more often, reporters shy away from such a style of reporting in case any person should take offence at any inferences made in composition. Instead, it is substituted for rather more an impersonal approach, wherein events are recalled in stagnant fashion so as to appear factual, but in reality tell us little of the surrounding circumstances and reactions.

However, this epitomises a society who are more concerned about their technologies than their society; we want the details in as short a fashion as possible, without any care for the deeper underlying issues. When we continue to ignore the mounting tensions in various elements of the world, they always, inevitably, return to bite. Example in point, the recent London riots.

How does a heat wave merit front page news?

But this lifestyle is addictive: we can tune out from the main and plug into our own microcosm without having to suffer the incredulities and consequences of other people.

Nightclubs are a cry from youngsters to avoid this world. They come together to celebrate in music and alcohol, but never engage in meaningful conversation in such an establishment. In attempts to escape the very social dynamic and social wrongs that characterise their times, these teenagers only serve to emphasise how together we are in our individuality and ignorance.

Because surrounded by the flashing lights and the pumping music, it is easy to forget the details of deaths in Africa and corrupt leaders in the Middle east; the few moments in the club are your own moments of spotlight in the public eye, on the dancefloor.