Quincy Jones remembers "the biggest entertainer on the planet": Michael Jackson

Note: Music producer Quincy Jones, who once lived in Seattle and graduated from Garfield High School, first worked with Michael Jackson in 1978 on the set of "The Wiz." He went on to collaborate with him on groundbreaking recordings, including "Thriller" and "Off the Wall." He wrote a remembrance of Jackson for the Los Angeles Times, excerpted here.

Like the world, last week I was devastated by the news that Michael Jackson had suddenly left the room. This blessed artist commanded the stage with the grace of an antelope, shattered recording-industry records and broke down cultural boundaries around the world; yet he remained the gentlest of souls.

Michael Jackson was a different kind of entertainer. A man-child in many ways, he was beyond professional and dedicated. Evoking Fred Astaire, Sammy Davis Jr. and James Brown all at once, he'd work for hours, perfecting every kick, gesture and movement so that they came together precisely the way they were intended to. Together we shared the '80s, achieving heights that I can humbly say may never be reached again and that reshaped the music business forever.

For our first album together, "Off the Wall," I pulled my "A-team" crew together, anchored by Rod Temperton, one of the best songwriters who has ever lived. I simply loved working with Michael. He was so shy that he'd sit down and sing behind the couch with his back to me while I sat there with my hands over my eyes with the lights off.

We tried all kinds of tricks that I'd learned over the years to help him with his artistic growth, like dropping keys just a minor third to give him flexibility and a more mature range in the upper and lower registers, and more than a few tempo changes.

I also tried to steer him to songs with more depth, some of them about real relationships — we weren't going to make it with ballads to rodents (i.e., "Ben"). And Seth Riggs, a leading vocal coach, gave him vigorous exercises to expand his top and bottom range by at least a fourth, which I desperately needed to get the vocal drama going. We approached that record like we were going into battle. "Off the Wall" would sell 10 million copies.

We had no idea the record was going to be as successful as it was, but we were thrilled. Michael had moved from the realm of bubble-gum pop and planted his flag square in the heart of the musical pulse of the '80s, but what came next, I don't think any of us were ready for.

A hard push for "Thriller"

We were behind schedule on "Thriller," but Michael, Rod, the great engineer Bruce Swedien and I had all spent so much time together by now that we had a shorthand, so moving quickly wasn't a problem. I told Michael that we needed a black rock 'n' roll tune — a black "My Sharona" — and a begging tune for the album. He came back with "Beat It," and Rod came back with "The Lady in My Life."

Rod also brought in "Thriller," and Michael sang his heart out on it. At one point during the session, the right speaker burst into flames. How's that for a sign?

We finished the album the morning we needed to deliver the reference copy. We all gathered in Studio A to listen to the test pressing with this enormous anticipation. This was it, the eagerly anticipated follow-up to "Off the Wall."

And it sounded — terrible.

After all of that great work we were doing, it wasn't there. There was total silence in the studio. We'd put too much material on the record. Michael was in tears.

We took two days off, and in the next eight days, we set about reshaping the album, mixing just one song a day.

A lasting legacy

We delivered the album and watched "Billie Jean" — thanks to Michael's debut performance of the moonwalk — "Beat It" and "Thriller" just explode, fueled in part by heavy video rotation on MTV. Prior to "Billie Jean," MTV wasn't playing videos with black artists. After those three videos, virtually every video on MTV was trying to emulate their style.

Michael, the music and MTV all went to the mountaintop. In the music business, every decade you have a phenomenon. In the '40s you had Sinatra, in the '50s Elvis, in the '60s the Beatles, in the '70s the innovation of Dolby, despite the best efforts of Stevie Wonder and Elton John. In the '80s you had Michael Jackson. He was the biggest entertainer on the planet. Followed up with "Bad" and the collective on "We Are the World," we all made history together. We owned the '80s, and our souls would be connected forever.

There will be a lot written about what came next in Michael's life, but for me all of that is just noise. I promise you that in 50, 75, 100 years, what will be remembered is the music. Almost three decades later, no matter where I go in the world, in every club and karaoke bar, like clockwork, you hear "Billie Jean," "Beat It," "Wanna Be Starting Something," "Rock With You" and "Thriller."

In every language on the planet, from prison yards in the Philippines to the tribute site Thrilltheworld.com, that will be the beautiful, grand legacy of Michael Jackson.