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Don’t Stop Til You’ve Had Enough: An Article on the Quincy Jones MJ Tribute Debacle

by Syl Mortilla

21 Friday Jun 2019

You know how sometimes people get offended on behalf of others? Well, right now, I am seething. Positively livid. Absolutely outraged, and do you know the worst part? I am not even directly affected by what has happened here. It’s not my money involved, but I am truly appalled for you and I guess it could happen to any of us so we should not stand for it. Let me explain.

I was in that there London recently, deep in the underground rabbit warren, climbing up an escalator the size of Everest. As I ascended the cold metal steps, I noticed out of the corner of my eye, one of many promotional posters for forthcoming shows. Despite keeping my ear to the ground, my finger on the pulse and some say, my head in the clouds, I hadn’t heard of this one.

In fact, I was temporarily bamboozled by it. I had heard some time ago that Quincy Jones would be playing a show at the O2 Arena, but this bore no resemblance to that event.

It was still Quincy, but it contradicted my recollection that it was to be a celebration of the work of the late Michael Jackson.

Originally, this “world exclusive concert” had promised not only “three iconic albums played back to back” but went on to nail its colours to the mast by actually naming them: Off The Wall, Thriller and Bad.

I remember at the time thinking that this would be quite the spectacle, but the ticket prices were utterly exorbitant – well in excess of a hundred pounds a pop.

The new poster was so different that I questioned whether it was even the same event or if I had already missed that one and now this was the follow up show.

I felt like I was in Animal Farm, staring in disbelief at the board previously displaying the motto “four legs good, two legs bad,” adjusted to read “four legs good, two legs better,” leaving me questioning my own memory of the original.

I have since read something that confirms that I hadn’t been imagining things after all and rather than being a feverish cheese dream, the content of the concert HAS been altered to remove all remaining traces of Jackson.

Now, everyone is entitled to their opinion as to whether or not this was the right thing to do in the light of recent allegations (arising from a documentary) and I am not here to have that debate.

What I take issue with though is that when you substantially deviate from the original advertised line up that people have paid handsomely to see, they should be entitled to receive a full refund.

What wound me up most was the arrogant stance taken by the promoters. Disgruntled fans have received a response from them explaining: “the show’s content has not changed. Songs from the three Michael Jackson albums will be played, alongside tracks which celebrate era-defining music. Therefore, we are unable to offer refunds.”

Now, let’s just think about this for a second. They’re claiming that it’s the same show as before. I mean, I guess they have got a point – after all, it is still Quincy Jones and seats are every bit as expensive as they were before, but the actual music? Well, that could not be more different.

The show appears to have shrunk in the wash and its colours have run. Now, in its place we have “Soundtrack of The 80s” featuring “iconic songs and defining albums.” I’m genuinely surprised that Sara Cox isn’t billed to host it.

Get your magnifying glass out though and look carefully at the small print at the very bottom of the poster and any fears you may have previously had will be swept aside.

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See – it IS EXACTLY the same concert as before. O yea of little faith. Look, there’s all of Jackson’s biggest hits… Rock With You… Man In The Mirror… er, Yah Mo Be There…

I appreciate that there are bigger injustices in the world right now, but the principle of this stinks and the precedent it sets is utterly unacceptable.

This is like professional gaslighting. Maybe the organisers of the event are in a state of traumatised denial after this significant transformation to their show.

The last time a promoter was this cheeky was back when people who had bought seats to see Michael Jackson at his O2 residency for his ill-fated This Is It farewell tour were offered hologrammatic “souvenir” tickets instead of their money back.

When people buy tickets for Glastonbury, they do so without knowing what the line up will be in advance. People know that they are getting on board before the bands are announced and if they aren’t satisfied when the poster is unveiled, they are free to cancel.

Line ups are subject to change all the time, but usually, when someone drops out, the promoters arrange for someone equally impressive to stand in. Sometimes, the replacement is actually better than the act originally scheduled, so it works in the fans’ favour.

Occasionally, issues arise where, for whatever reason, artists are unable to fulfil their original obligation due to their personal situation or circumstances beyond their control.

I was crushed one Summer when Irish girl group B*witched were due to headline a Nineties nostalgia concert, but were sadly unable to make it in time due to problems with their flight. To be fair to them, they offered a full explanation and regular updates throughout the course of the evening by virtue of regular Skype updates. These things happen. C’est la vie.

There is sometimes a disclaimer attached to shows warning in advance of possible alterations. It covers the promoter’s back, acknowledges the reality of the industry and manages fans’ expectations.

I have studied the Quincy poster quite closely under my musical microscope and I don’t see anything anywhere that states: “please note: the advertised content is subject to change at any minute – in fact, it might have already changed beyond recognition by the time you buy tickets. Those who wish to take a complete leap of faith do so entirely at their own risk as even if we move the goal posts so far apart that they end up being in completely different countries, we reserve the right at all times to not only refuse entry but also refunds.”

I am no mathematician, but I am genuinely curious as to how much of the original advertised content of a concert you have to depart from before it can be considered a “change.”

Let’s say, for the sake of argument, that you bought tickets to see The Manic Street Preachers on their current tour, encouraged by the promise that they are going to be playing your favourite album of theirs: This Is My Truth, Tell Me Yours in its entirety. Imagine turning up, feather boa warming your your neck, looking forward to hearing songs from that album, only to be told that instead you are going to be treated to two hours of singer James Dean Bradfield’s side project.

Furious, you rush to the box office for a refund. “Ah,” says the woman behind the counter, “but this is the same concert.” “HOW is it?” you wail. “James will still be playing songs from This Is My Truth,” she says, “alongside era-defining music.”

Faced with no alternative, you return to the show to hear James playing George Benson’s Give Me The Night. “But this isn’t even one of theirs!” you scream, throwing back your head in terror, at which point you see a sign on the ceiling above you that says “NO REFUNDS.”

The addition of extra songs doesn’t make things better, it makes them considerably worse, as it has the effect of diluting the overall quality. It makes it considerably less likely that you will get to hear the songs from those albums that you paid good (Bad?) money to hear.

Maybe before the show, you could go into the O2 branch of Nando’s and order a plate of peri peri chicken, before tucking into it and immediately realising that something is wrong. Rather than your spice of choice, it has an altogether milder, tamer flavour, like someone has seasoned it with lemon and herb. It doesn’t even look or taste like chicken. Closer inspection reveals it to be pigeon!

Incensed, you storm up to the counter and demand your money back. “I’m sorry, Sir,” says the Manager, “but there are no refunds because that is the same meal as the one you ordered.” Then they chuck out a corn on the cob and throw some spicy rice in your face in an effort to placate you with era-defining side dishes.

Where exactly will this madness end? If you go to a tailor and after getting measured up and paying for a brand new suit, he then proceeds to lop the legs off the trousers and stitch a floral pattern into the lapel, can he still expect you to be happy with that?

We live in a time where people are expected to pay for the privilege of printing off their own tickets at home, and don’t even get me started on the fulfilment fees – exactly who or what are these fulfilling other than corporate pockets?!

Fans increasingly find themselves forfeiting booking fees, administration charges and the like when concerts are cancelled by the promoter. These would appear to be regarded by them as little more than curiosity taxes.

It’s all very caveat emptor – buyer beware – if you have gone to the trouble and expense of organising transport and arranging accommodation to see a show which is then pulled, well, then, that’s your problem.

By all means, go ahead and adjust the content of a concert – you’re the promoter, it’s your show, you can do whatever you like, but if you do, don’t hoodwink ticket holders into thinking that nothing has changed. Don’t flummox your customers. If they aren’t happy with the alterations you’ve made, they should be entitled to receive a full refund as the show they bought tickets to see is no longer the one that will be staged.

Believe it or not, this piece originally started out as an advertisement for the forthcoming Quincy Jones concert in which I heaped praise on the promoters for their courageous actions and argued that the concert remains fundamentally unchanged. They cannot take issue with any aspect of the final version because this is exactly the same article as before…alongside era-defining sarcasm.

-Written by Andrew Timms

For unique insights into the man and his music, check out The First Book of Michael by Syl Mortilla, including a foreword by Michael Jackson’s make-up artist and confidante of thirty years, Karen Faye.

Available here: The First Book of Michael

Laughed out loud at this. Brilliant.

I’ll be seeing @senbla in the small claims court in a few months. @villalobosdan is also planning to take them to small claims court. https://t.co/F05xZGQbGf
— Charles Thomson (@CEThomson) 21. Juni 2019