Then again, Elvis had (still has) his worshippers well past his prime. It's not clear that Jackson's fans, whoever they are, will head to Neverland once their god is dead to soak up his aura, but Jackson is trying so hard right now to stay on top, we're seeing him sweat like Fat Elvis. (It's probably important to note here that the King of Pop is now a year older than the King of Rock 'n' Roll at the time of his death.)

If Madonna showed how a teen-pop wonder can stay on top by changing her style to fit the times, Jackson's legacy is to show how to do the same damn thing over and over again, and through force of will and riding on fumes get record executives to finance it unquestionably. Heck, even Elvis couldn't do that himself — that's what the Colonel was for.

The guy hasn't even changed his dance moves. Great, to be sure, but still the same ol' crotch grab. And for all the changes in producers over the years, the songs remain the same — light funk in which all the work put into the music is increasingly apparent, and not just because 37 musicians are listed on each track.

Jackson's career path is what the boy bands, Britney Spears and their ilk are trying to pull off now. They're not following Jackson musically; they use him as a model on how not to be the next New Kids on the Block, or Bobby Sherman, or whatever teen idol you want to drag out. 'N Sync allegedly is using two-step garage, the latest craze (apparently) coming out of London, on its latest album, but do the girls who buy the album care? To them, it's the same sweet stuff.

For all the talk of what a huge superstar Michael Jackson is, for how much he's inspired other artists, there's a sense that his career has been a series of empty calories.

Empty calories can taste very, very good, and Jackson has provided much musical sugar over the years. Staying true to his roots in Motown, which made its living off very professional, very craftsmanlike work that in its best moments transcended into art. Jackson is a noted perfectionist who wants to get every hemidemisemiquaver right, and if the material is strong enough that true emotion gets through the handiwork, all the better. Sound like any band that rhymes with Men Stink? Except for the part about anything transcending into art.

Elvis, Jackson's ex-late father-in-law, seemed to have much more ambition musically to create Great Art, believe it or not. When Fat Elvis was touring arenas in the 1970s, and his band was hoping their drug-addled boss would be able to stand up through the show, he put together a band that he truly believed would be the all-encompassing compendium of American music, a mix of the white gospel, black gospel, blues, R&B and other sounds of his youth.

Jackson seems like he's going on because he's afraid if he doesn't stay on top, his steelworker father, the one who dragged his family into the music business way back in Gary, Ind., will beat him into a roll of sheet metal. Please, Tommy Mottola, please give me $30 million to make Invincible, because I'm a world star, and I'll get my ass whipped if I don't get 1 million copies sold in the first week!

So Jackson's legacy is not really musical. The Velvet Underground has inspired far more bands with far fewer sales. His legacy is showing how to get your teeth into stardom like a Doberman, and how not to let go no matter how much anyone shakes you. Even if it appears that no one you know buys his CDs.

— Bob Cook (bobc@flakmag.com)