Andy Richardson pays a personal tribute to Michael Jackson.

As a boy, I loved Tamla Motown. The smooth, carousing sounds of soulful, Black America were everything my life was not. Vicariously, through the uplifting, mesmeric sounds of artists on Berry Gordy Jr’s record label, I was transported from a humdrum town and working-class school to a world of glamour, excitement and beauty.

And now, with the shocking and sudden death of Michael Jackson, that world seems to have crumbled. Because Michael Jackson was the brightest star in the firmament. He was the King of Pop. He had the best voice. He had the cutest looks. He was, quite simply, the finest pop star of them all.

Jackson is an iconic figure who ranks alongside the likes of Presley, Lennon, Hendrix and Cobain. Sure, he was flawed. Martin Bashir’s haunting 2003 TV biography, Living With Michael Jackson, revealed just how bizarre his life was. His later years were foreshadowed by claims of child molestation, he was said to be on the brink of bankruptcy having shopped his way to financial ruin, and his ever-changing appearance spoke of a man whose inner demons ran riot. Paranoia and darker imagery were inextricably linked to him. Who could forget the moment when he dangled a child from the balcony of a hotel, seeking to ingratiate himself with fans?

So much for the eccentric behaviour and controversy. Despite his imperfection as a human being, Jackson’s talent was unsurpassed. Not content to leave his mark on pop music, he irreversibly changed it. Selling 750 million albums, achieving 13 number-one singles and a number of Grammies and other awards, the seventh child of the Jackson family revolutionised contemporary music. His artistry and magnetism changed the music landscape forever.

As the pint-sized, Afro-haired star of The Jackson Five, Michael Jackson announced himself to the world. The 11-year-old became a superstar, his angelic voice helped the band to become the first act in recorded history to have their first four major label singles – I Want You Back, ABC, The Love You Save and I’ll Be There – reach the top of the American charts. During their Motown tenure, The Jackson Five were the biggest pop phenomenon of the 1970s.

Later, Michael successfully exploited his early Motown fame and enjoyed greater success as a solo artist. Five of his albums – Off the Wall, Thriller, Bad, Dangerous and HIStory – are among the top-sellers of all time. Of those, Thriller is the most totemic. The Quincy Jones-produced best-selling record ever won a record-breaking eight Grammy Awards, helped to break down racial barriers, endeared Jackson to the then US President Ronald Reagan and featured one of the most extraordinary videos of all time, Thriller. Just reeling off the song titles from it sets the heart aflutter: Wanna Be Startin’ Something, Baby Be Mine, The Girl Is Mine, Thriller, Beat It, Billie Jean, Human Nature, PYT (Pretty Young Thing) and The Lady In My Life.

Subsequently, Jackson became one of the few artists to be inducted into the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame twice, while Guinness World Records listed his other achievements as being the Most Successful Entertainer Of All Time.

There are two reasons why I loved the music, if not the man. First, his songs provided the soundtrack to part of my life. Ain’t No Sunshine, Ben, She’s Out Of My Life, Human Nature, I Just Can’t Stop Loving You and Man In The Mirror take me back to dancefloors, discos, relationships and more besides. They frame key moments in my life, just as those tunes mean different things to other people.

But the reason I most love Michael Jackson’s music is because it moved me. He made me feel happy, he understood the pain of my teenage loves, he made me feel like a disco champion, he made me feel immortal. Jackson was the consummate entertainer. His songs brought a smile to the face. It was impossible not to dance when Blame It On The Boogie came through the speakers, to swoon to the stunning beauty of Ben, to laugh out loud to his ‘Twiddly Diddly Dee’ at the start of Rockin’ Robin or to weep silent tears to She’s Out Of My Life or One Day In Your Life.

Jackson’s death from a cardiac arrest came as no surprise to those who knew him best. He was reportedly addicted to the powerful painkiller Demerol, which is similar to morphine. Like other fallen stars – the King of Rock’n’Roll Elvis or the Greatest Heavyweight Of All Time Muhammed Ali – his star had waned, his body was broken and his solace came in a far-off private world. His case has been compared to the drug overdose of Playboy centrefold Anna Nicole-Smith. He was pop music’s Icarus, an otherworldly star who flew too close to the sun and crashed painfully back to earth.

Jackson was the finest soul singer of the past four decades, one of the best dancers the world has ever seen and one of the most important and influential pop stars of all time. Millions now mourn his death.

In 1993 Jackson released a song called Gone Too Soon, from his Dangerous album. It was one of his less-successful songs, reaching number 33 in the UK chart. The final refrain went: “Born to amuse, To inspire and delight, Here one day, Gone one night. Like a sunset, Dying with the rising moon, Gone too soon, Gone too soon.” Those words are a fitting lament for the uniquely gifted King Of Pop.