Since his death, there’s been such a deluge
of tributes to Michael Jackson that you’d
have thought by now there isn’t a minute of
his career that hasn’t been pored over, documented
and otherwise scrutinised.
is one episode, though, that because it is in so
many respects unlikely and at the same time wholly
obscure that it has so far escaped the attention
of even the most vigilant commentators, and it of
all people involves an old friend of mine, Tex-Mex
rock’n’roll hellion, Joe “King”
1982 and Joe is in London, as part of a whistle-stop
European tour to promote his new MCA album, Synapse
Gap. We meet at his Bayswater hotel, and the garrulous
Texan is soon in full conversational swing, talking
excitedly about the new record.
who I’ve got on the album, man, singing backing
didn’t have a clue. Bob Dylan? Ozzy Osbourne?
man!” Carrasco fairly shrieks.
sure there were people in Birmingham, let alone
Bayswater, who will have heard the dull thud of
my jaw hitting the floor of Joe’s hotel room.
But it’s all true, because Joe is now telling
me all about this baffling alliance and how the
world’s biggest pop star ended up singing
backing on “Don’t Let A Woman (Make
A Fool Out Of You)”.
man, it was fucken wild,” Carrasco says, laughing
hysterically. “He was in the studio next door
to where we were recording. And I was just thinking,
‘Goddammmmm, here’s the best fucken
singer in the world, man, I gotta get him on my
record.’ And I did, man. I fucken did. I just
made friends with him.”
what was he like?
a nice guy. He’s surrounded by all these bodyguards
who keep him away from the real world. But one day,
man, I saw him just sitting out in this office,
staring into space. I just said, ‘Hey, Mike,
why dontcha come sing on my record, man?’
And I just kinda made off with him. When his managers
got back and found him in the studio with us, they
flipped. But the track was down, man. It was too