At the age of 27, after the monster success of his first solo album, "Faith," George Michael became introspective. It's hard to imagine this man as anything other than in your face, anything other than a fame seeking pop sensation, anything other than a guy with a penchant for illicit rendezvous in public places. But, in 1990, George was a kid still reeeling from a fame that didn't quite fit him right.
Thanks to Letters of Note, a blog you should all read intently, we are all able to view the advice Michael received from a very unlikely source: Frank Sinatra. The chairman's main point is that Michael shouldn't be complaining, that fame is fleeting and that those lucky enough to have it should "thank the good Lord every morning when he wakes up to have all that he has."
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I would love to say that I wrote a fantastic poem that capitalizes on the juxtaposition of age and youth, of old school glamour and new school glam, that posits Frank's uber-masculinity against the faux-macho of Michael (as he presented himself in his tight jeans and leather jacket in the video for "Faith"), but I didn't. I tried, but it just didn't happen. Maybe because I wanted to write it too badly, maybe because there's not enough raw material there, or maybe--and I'm leaning towards this one--maybe I couldn't write it because the situation itself is already too poetic to be sculpted into anything else.
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