Japanese Impersonator Showdown: Michael Jackson vs. Louis Armstrong

Although a waxen pedophiliac ghoul with his rotting off, there's no doubt that Michael Jackson is one of the greatest performers of the 20th century, so there's a certain level where, in theory, this video of Michael Jackson musically jousting with Louis Armstrong is satisfying. Unfortunately, I merely sit stunned at the complete incompetence of the impersonations.

I'm particularly incensed by the Louis impersonation, though. Let's leave aside the blackface for a second. This was forwarded to me by a friend who claimed that while the Michael Jackson impersonation was terrible, the Louis Armstrong one was not. No, it really, really is. It is a sadly unrecognized fact that Louis Armstrong, froggy scat and all, is one of the greatest vocalists of the 20th century: each word is croaked sublimely, his every note perfect in pitch and tone. This guy is an abomination: the Michael Jackson impersonator is far better, because Michael Jackson, at the end of the day, is not a wholly unique vocalist in the world of popular music. He is simply not of the stature as Louis.

Compare Louis' performance of 'It's A Wonderful World' (a lovely song, though I am primarily an early Louis enthusiast) with this Japanese impersonator's grotesque, insulting mimickry. You can see it after the jump.

There is also this incredible performance from the Danish film Kobenhavn Kalundborg Og from 1933. 'I Cover The Waterfront':

I'm also including Louis Armstrong's short A Rhapsody in Black and Blue. It won't jive with modern racial sensibilities at all, but Gary Giddins described the worth of this short in his biography of Louis, Satchmo: The Genius of Louis Armstrong. Giddins said:

The thing that Louis put on stage with unequivocal self-confidence, bordering on macho arrogance, was a personal magnetism that transcended every trace of racial inferiority. In 1932 he made a short called Rhapsody in Black and Blue, in which a hen-pecked husband falls asleep and dreams he's king in a heaven in which Armstrong performs at his command. The husband is the stereotypical lazy black, stereotypically performed and guaranteed to make a modern audience squirm. That's nothing compared to what Armstrong is asked to embody. The whole deck is stacked against him. First, he's garbed in a leopard skin; second, he's ankle deep in soap bubbles; third, he performs "You Rascal You" and "Shine" ("I take troubles all with a smile... that's why they call me Shine"). None of it holds him back. He transcends the racists trappings by his indifference to every sling and arrow. The director is trying to tell the audience one thing. Armstrong is telling it something entirely different.

Even if you don't agree with Giddins' assessment and think Louis Armstrong's minstrelsy was a disgrace, there is simply no doubt that the man, as a performer and as a singer, is entirely unique in the history of recording. It's too bad most people associate his singing with nothing more than thyroidal eye bugging and lyric garbling.