George Michael was a genuine British superstar. It is a term that is bandied about too much in pop music, but he was the real deal. He had talent that shaped the pop narrative of his times and, for a while, bestrode the entire world.

You can’t think about the 1980s without thinking about George Michael. He was one of the defining figures of that most colourful of eras. In the 1990s, he remained a pop powerhouse, one of our most distinctive and always fascinating icons. And if his star faded just a little over time, it was more to do with his erratic lifestyle and personal choices than a failure of ability or creativity.

Musically, he operated at the very highest levels of pop craft. When he first appeared on the United Kingdom music scene in 1981, it was immediately obvious he meant business.

As the architect of his pin-up duo Wham! he helped shape a fresh, shiny, upbeat sound that shook off the darkness of punk and new wave, reacting to the privations of the era not by protest, but by escapism. With his blow-dried hair and dashing grin, he seemed determined to signal a break from seriousness. Yet, this character was an act. A soulful and somewhat tortured individual in private, he mimicked the ease and ebullience of his friend and onstage partner Andrew Ridgeley to project a confidence, machismo and joyousness that didn’t perhaps come naturally. It was explosively successful. Wham! are an all-time great pop act, almost absurdly joyous, with a blend of giddy British songcraft and American dancefloor rhythmic drive that became unstoppable.

They spearheaded the second great British pop invasion of America, when bands including Culture Club, Duran Duran and Spandau Ballet brought a colourful palette of synthetic flavours to sweep away rock’s prevailing tone of po-faced seriousness. It was really the last time Britain absolutely ruled the airwaves. I think it’s fair to say that all manufactured boy-band pop still carries a bit of Wham! in its DNA.

Michael went on to be even more successful as a solo artist, when he was able to unleash the full range of his talents. He could sing with the flow, phrasing and command of the great American soul and gospel vocalists, something rarely heard before in British music. You’ve got to be pretty damn good to duet with Aretha Franklin, as he did on I Knew You Were Waiting (For Me) in 1987. He really raised the bar for every British singer that followed in his wake. And he was a fantastic songwriter too, the absolute architect of his own fantasy, combining words, melodies and rhythms that worked on both the immediate, superficial level of instant pop gratification and on deeper levels of emotional expression.

Everybody knows Michael’s songs and can probably sing them whether they want to or not. Last Christmas has been chiming out across the land this holiday season, a perfect little nugget of happy-sad pop. Yet, it was actually one of his more throwaway ditties. The best of his work beguiles the ear with hooks while carrying the listener further and deeper than they perhaps even realise. It was a very adult kind of pop music.

Careless Whisper is a killer slow dance for lovers, a smooth and smoochy ballad with the rare power to move bodies as well as hearts. Faith is about as lusty a proclamation of manhood ever heard, delivered over a stripped back acoustic rock-and-roll rhythm as taut as a drum skin. Jesus to A Child and Father Figure are heavy, resonant ballads. I Want Your Sex and Fastlove are super slick grooves driven with bold, erotic energy.

His music always sounded the business. He was a multi-instrumentalist and a great producer, with an ear for arrangements that would frame his voice to best advantage. At the forefront was a powerful performer who expressed himself with a vigour at odds with the inner uncertainties and fragilities still tangible in his music. It was this inner conflict that, ultimately, made him so compelling. And, perhaps, ultimately, made his career so erratic.

For a long time, Michael maintained a private life very separate from his public image.

Michael was not prolific. There have only been five solo albums, the last in 2004. Yet, he was a man who had a lot of music in him, who seemed at his very best when able to let it pour out of him, and who always spoke as if privately convinced that the best was yet to come.

There had been rumours about the state of his health over the years. Someone mentioned to me just a few weeks ago that he was not well, although they were unable or unwilling to elaborate. Publicly, he was known to have been recording again and optimistic about releasing new music next year. Whether that will emerge now is a whole other question, for another time.

Right now, every pop music lover should be mourning the loss of an amazing star, a huge talent and a fascinating, complex, warm, funny human being. As ever, we have to take what succour we can in music that cannot be erased by time. It may have been Michael’s last Christmas, but the songs play on.

— The Telegraph Group Limited, London, 2016

Neil McCormick is the Telegraph’s music critic.

source: GULF NEWS