I'm still finding words a bit challenging when it comes to talking about George Michael. Admittedly, over the years I became less of a fan, though certainly in my younger days (when his music was everywhere), I was not immune to those stonewash hipshakes, aviator shades, and 80s Elvis-esque bouffant coif.
When I was a young lass, George Michael was one of those fellows that could have been considered mad, bad, and dangerous to know (though perhaps not so much once he officially came out). The honest, openness of his voice is hard to match, and his lyrics are damned fine. With his passing, there is a strangeness to the world. For people in my generation, he was one of those ubiquitous figures of modern pop music. He was ever-present. And that was ok. More than ok. He was playful, at times rebellious. Once Wham! was in the rearview, he really seemed to take over the world.
It was surreal to hear of his death. And on Christmas, no less. The holiday he was somewhat synonymous with (y'all know the high regard in which I hold "Last Christmas"). One more twist of the knife, one more tearful farewell. I'm sure I'm not the only one who will be revisiting George's music, and wondering why we didn't spend more time with it when he was alive.