SOUND PROJECTIONS
AN ONLINE QUARTERLY MUSIC MAGAZINE
EDITOR: KOFI NATAMBU
FALL, 2016
VOLUME THREE NUMBER TWO
ERIC DOLPHYAN ONLINE QUARTERLY MUSIC MAGAZINE
EDITOR: KOFI NATAMBU
FALL, 2016
VOLUME THREE NUMBER TWO
Featuring the Musics and Aesthetic Visions of:
BOBBY HUTCHERSON
September 10-16
GEORGE E. LEWIS
September 17-23
JAMES BLOOD ULMER
September 24-30
RACHELLE FERRELL
October 1-7
ANDREW HILL
October 8-14
CARMEN McRAE
(October 15-21)
PRINCE
(October 22-28)
LIANNE LA HAVAS
(October 29-November 4)
ANDRA DAY
(November 5-November 11)
ARCHIE SHEPP
(November 12-18)
WORLD SAXOPHONE QUARTET
(November 19-25)
ART BLAKEY
(November 26-December 2)
http://www.allmusic.com/artist/prince-mn0000361393/biography
PRINCE ROGERS NELSON
(1958-2016)
Artist Biography by Stephen Thomas Erlewine
Few artists have created a body of work as rich and varied as Prince.
During the '80s, he emerged as one of the most singular talents of the
rock & roll era, capable of seamlessly tying together pop, funk,
folk, and rock. Not only did he release a series of groundbreaking
albums; he toured frequently, produced albums, and wrote songs for many
other artists, and recorded hundreds of songs that still lie unreleased
in his vaults. With each album he released, Prince
showed remarkable stylistic growth and musical diversity, constantly
experimenting with different sounds, textures, and genres. Occasionally,
his music was inconsistent, in part because of his eclecticism, but his
experiments frequently succeeded; no other contemporary artist blended
so many diverse styles into a cohesive whole.
Prince's first two albums were solid, if unremarkable, late-'70s funk-pop. With 1980's Dirty Mind, he recorded his first masterpiece, a one-man tour de force of sex and music; it was hard funk, catchy Beatlesque melodies, sweet soul ballads, and rocking guitar pop, all at once. The follow-up, Controversy, was more of the same, but 1999 was brilliant. The album was a monster hit, selling over three million copies, but it was nothing compared to 1984's Purple Rain.
Purple Rain made Prince
a superstar; it eventually sold over ten million copies in the U.S. and
spent 24 weeks at number one. Partially recorded with his touring band,
the Revolution,
the record featured the most pop-oriented music he has ever made.
Instead of continuing in this accessible direction, he veered off into
the bizarre psycho-psychedelia of Around the World in a Day, which nevertheless sold over two million copies. In 1986, he released the even stranger Parade,
which was in its own way as ambitious and intricate as any art rock of
the '60s; however, no art rock was ever grounded with a hit as brilliant
as the spare funk of "Kiss."
By 1987, Prince's ambitions were growing by leaps and bounds, resulting in the sprawling masterpiece Sign 'O' the Times. Prince was set to release the hard funk of The Black Album
by the end of the year, yet he withdrew it just before its release,
deciding it was too dark and immoral. Instead, he released the confused Lovesexy in 1988, which was a commercial disaster. With the soundtrack to 1989's Batman
he returned to the top of the charts, even if the album was essentially
a recap of everything he had done before. The following year he
released Graffiti Bridge (the sequel to Purple Rain), which turned out to be a considerable commercial disappointment.
In 1991, Prince formed the New Power Generation, the best and most versatile and talented band he has ever assembled. With their first album, Diamonds and Pearls, Prince
reasserted his mastery of contemporary R&B; it was his biggest hit
since 1985. The following year, he released his 12th album, which was
titled with a cryptic symbol; in 1993, Prince
legally changed his name to the symbol. In 1994, after becoming
embroiled in contract disagreements with Warner Bros., he independently
released the single "The Most Beautiful Girl in the World," likely to
illustrate what he would be capable of on his own; the song became his
biggest hit in years. Later that summer, Warner released the somewhat
halfhearted Come under the name of Prince; the record was a moderate success, going gold.
In November 1994, as part of a contractual obligation, Prince agreed to the official release of The Black Album.
In early 1995, he immersed himself in another legal battle with Warner,
proclaiming himself a slave and refusing to deliver his new record, The Gold Experience,
for release. By the end of the summer, a fed-up Warner had negotiated a
compromise that guaranteed the album's release, plus one final record
for the label. The Gold Experience
was issued in the fall; although it received good reviews and was
following a smash single, it failed to catch fire commercially. In the
summer of 1996, Prince released Chaos & Disorder, which freed him to become an independent artist. Setting up his own label, NPG (which was distributed by EMI), he resurfaced later that same year with the three-disc Emancipation,
which was designed as a magnum opus that would spin off singles for
several years and be supported with several tours.
However, even his devoted cult following needed
considerable time to digest such an enormous compilation of songs. Once
it was clear that Emancipation wasn't the commercial blockbuster he hoped it would be, Prince assembled a long-awaited collection of outtakes and unreleased material called Crystal Ball in 1998. With Crystal Ball, Prince
discovered that it's much more difficult to get records to an audience
than it seems; some fans who pre-ordered their copies through Prince's
website (from which a bonus fifth disc was included) didn't receive
them until months after the set began appearing in stores. Prince then released a new one-man album, New Power Soul, just three months after Crystal Ball; even though it was his most straightforward album since Diamonds and Pearls, it didn't do well on the charts, partly because many listeners didn't realize it had been released.
A year later, with "1999" predictably an end-of-the-millennium anthem, Prince issued the remix collection 1999 (The New Master). A collection of Warner Bros.-era leftovers, Vault: Old Friends 4 Sale, followed that summer, and in the fall Prince returned on Arista with the all-star Rave Un2 the Joy Fantastic. In the fall of 2001 he released the controversial Rainbow Children,
a jazz-infused circus of sound trumpeting his conversion to the
Jehovah's Witnesses that left many longtime fans out in the cold. He
further isolated himself with 2003's N.E.W.S., a four-song set of instrumental jams that sounded a lot more fun to play than to listen to. Prince rebounded in 2003 with the chart-topping Musicology,
a return to form that found the artist back in the Top Ten, even
garnering a Grammy nomination for Best Male Pop Vocal Performance in
2005.
In early 2006 he was the musical guest on Saturday
Night Live, performing two songs with a new protégée, R&B singer
Tamar. A four-song appearance at the Brit Awards with Wendy, Lisa, and Sheila E. followed. Both appearances previewed tracks from 3121, which hit number one on the album charts soon after its release in March 2006. Planet Earth followed in 2007, featuring contributions from Wendy and Lisa.
In the U.K., copies were cover-mounted on the July 15 edition of The
Mail on Sunday, provoking Columbia -- the worldwide distributor for the
release -- to refuse distribution throughout the U.K. In the U.S., the
album was issued on July 24.
LotusFlow3r, a three-disc set, arrived in 2009, featuring a trio of distinct albums: LotusFlow3r itself (a guitar showcase), MPLSound (a throwback to his '80s funk output), and Elixer (a smooth contemporary R&B album featuring the breathy vocals of Bria Valente).
Despite only being available online and through one big-box retailer,
the set debuted at number two on the Billboard 200 chart. A year later,
another throwback-flavored effort, 20Ten, became his second U.K. newspaper giveaway. No official online edition of the album was made available.
From mid-2010 through the end of 2012, Prince
toured throughout Europe, America, Europe again, Canada, and Australia.
During 2013, he released several singles, starting with "Screwdriver"
and continuing with "Breakfast Can Wait" in the summer of that year.
Early in 2014, he made a cameo appearance on the Zooey Deschanel
sitcom The New Girl, appearing in the episode that aired following the
Super Bowl. All this activity was prelude to the spring announcement
that Prince
had re-signed to Warner Bros. Records, the label he had feuded with 20
years prior. As part of the deal, he wound up receiving the ownership of
his master recordings, and the label planned a reissue campaign that
would begin with an expanded reissue of Purple Rain roughly timed to celebrate its 30th anniversary.
First came two new albums: Art Official Age and PlectrumElectrum, the latter credited to 3rdEyeGirl,
the all-female power trio that was his new-millennial backing band.
Both records came out on the same day in September 2014. (Two years
later, the Prince reissue program and the expanded edition of Purple Rain had yet to appear.) Almost a year to the day, he released HITnRUN: Phase One, with contributions from Lianne La Havas, Judith Hill, and Rita Ora. A sequel, HITnRUN: Phase Two, was released online in December 2015, with a physical release following in January 2016. In early 2016, Prince
set out on a rare solo tour, a run of shows he called "Piano and a
Microphone." The tour was cut short in April due to sickness, however,
and Prince flew home to Minneapolis. On April 21, 2016, police were called to Paisley Park, where they found Prince
unresponsive; he died that day at the age of 57. His early death and
incredible achievement prompted an outpouring of emotion from fans,
friends, influences, and professional associates. On the following
week's Billboard charts, he occupied four of the top ten album positions
and four of the top singles positions.
http://www.rollingstone.com/music/artists/prince/biography
Prince was one of the most naturally gifted artists of all time, and also one of the most mysterious. In the Eighties, at a time when other megastars such as Michael Jackson, Bruce Springsteen, and Madonna, were delivering an album every three years or so, Prince remained prolific to an almost inhuman degree. A byproduct of his inexhaustible output was Prince's tendency toward wayward, self-indulgent career moves (like changing his name to an unpronounceable symbol in the Nineties) that sometimes alienated even his most ardent supporters.
Yet his taut, keyboard-dominated Minneapolis Sound — a hybrid of rock, pop, and funk, with blatantly sexual lyrics — not only influenced his fellow Minneapolis artists the Time and Janet Jackson's producers (and ex-Time members) Jimmy Jam and Terry Lewis, but also impacted much of 1980s dance-pop music. No other pop star could match the range of his talents, which included not just singing and dancing but also composing, producing, and playing many, many instruments. In fact, Prince played nearly all the instruments on his first five albums, and has produced himself since signing with Warner Bros. at age 21.
Under the name "Prince Rogers," Prince's father John Nelson was the leader of a Minneapolis-area jazz band, in which his mother was the vocalist. Prince started playing piano at age seven, guitar at 13, and drums at 14, all self-taught. At 14 he was in a band called Grand Central, which later became Champagne. Four years later, a demo tape he made with engineer Chris Moon reached local businessman Owen Husney. In 1978 Husney negotiated Prince's first contract with Warner Bros.
Prince released his first album, For You, in April, 1978, to minimal fanfare. "Soft and Wet" (Number 92, pop, Number 12 R&B, 1978) introduced his erotic approach, while "I Wanna Be Your Lover" (Number 11 pop, Number One R&B) and "Why You Wanna Treat Me So Bad?" (Number 13 R&B) from subsequent album Prince (Number 22, 1979) suggested his musical range and significantly upped his profile.
Dirty Mind (Number 45, 1980)—a loose concept album including songs such as "Head," about oral sex, and "Sister," about incest—established Prince's libidinous image once and for all. One of its few songs that wasn't too obscene for airplay, "Uptown," went to Number Five R&B, while "When You Were Mine" became Prince's most widely covered song and a minor comeback hit for Mitch Ryder in 1983 (it was later covered by Cyndi Lauper, among others, as well.)
Controversy (Number 21, 1981) had two hits, the title cut (Number 70 pop, Number Three R&B, 1981) and "Let's Work" (Number Nine, 1982). Prince, Dirty Mind, and Controversy all eventually went platinum. For his second album, Prince had formed a racially and sexually mixed touring band that included childhood friend Andre (Anderson) Cymone on bass, Dez Dickerson on guitar, keyboardists Gayle Chapman and Matt Fink, and drummer Bobby "Z" Rivkin. By the Dirty Mind tour, Chapman had been replaced by Lisa Coleman. When Dez Dickerson left Prince's band to launch an abortive solo career, he was replaced by Wendy Melvoin. In concert Prince frequently wore black bikini underpants underneath a trench coat.
Prince broke through to a new level of pop stardon with his double album, 1999 (Number Nine, 1982), which went platinum, bolstered by the Top 10 singles "Little Red Corvette" (Number Six, 1983) and "Delirious" (Number Eight, 1983), and the title track (Number 12, 1982). "Little Red Corvette" was also among the first videos by a black performer to be played regularly on MTV.
Prince "discovered" another Minneapolis band, the Time, whose members were cherry-picked from extant local bands Prince had gone back with to high school. The Time's first two albums went gold (the third went platinum); in turn, they supplied in-concert backup for Vanity 6, a female trio that had a club hit with "Nasty Girl" (Vanity would leave Prince's fold in 1983 to launch an unsuccessful solo career). Prince denied that he was the "Jamie Starr" who produced albums by the Time and Vanity 6. He did take both bands on tour with him, however.
Prince vaulted to superstardom in 1984 with Purple Rain, a seemingly autobiographical movie set in the Minneapolis club scene and co-starring the Time and Apollonia 6 (Patricia "Apollonia" Kotero having replaced Vanity). It was an enormous hit, as was the soundtrack album, which spent 24 weeks atop the chart and sold over 13 million copies, yielding hit singles with "When Doves Cry" (Number One, 1984), "Let's Go Crazy" (Number One, 1984), "Purple Rain" (Number Two, 1984), "I Would Die 4 U" (Number Eight, 1984), and "Take Me With U" (Number 25, 1985). The album marked the first time in his career that Prince had recorded with, and credited, his backing band, which he named the Revolution.
The opening act on Prince's 1984 tour was another of his female protégés, Latin percussionist Sheila E., the daughter of Santana percussionist Pete Escovedo, who hailed from Oakland, California, and whose album The Glamorous Life Prince had produced that year (as Jamie Starr).
At the 1985 Grammy Awards, Prince and the Revolution won Best Group Rock Vocal for "Purple Rain" and R&B Song of the Year for "I Feel For You" (actually from Prince, and a hit cover for Chaka Khan in 1984). After the gala, Prince — who, for all his sexual exhibitionism onstage, was painfully shy offstage — declined to take part in the all-star recording session for "We Are the World" (he later donated the track "4 the Tears in Your Eyes" to the USA for Africa album).
That, and his fey demeanor at the 1985 Academy Awards show, where he won a Best Original Score Oscar for Purple Rain, were the first signals of Prince's personal eccentricities to his newfound mass audience. In 1985 Prince also wrote Sheena Easton's suggestive hit single "Sugar Walls," under the pseudonym "Alexander Nevermind." And Tipper Gore credited allusions to masturbation in the Purple Rain track "Darling Nikki" with inspiring her to form the Parents Music Resource Center and to launch the Senate hearings on offensive rock lyrics, which led to the record industry's "voluntary" album-stickering policy.
Prince followed up Purple Rain with the psychedelic Around the World in a Day, which topped the chart for three straight weeks but was considered a critical and commercial disappointment. Prince reportedly had to be persuaded to release singles from it, but the album did yield hits in the Beatlesque "Raspberry Beret" (Number Two, 1985) and the funky "Pop Life" (Number Seven, 1985). Upon the album's release Prince's management announced his retirement from live performance (which lasted less than two years), and the opening of his own studio and record label, both named Paisley Park—after a track on the new album (which also included a spiritual epic, "The Ladder," which Prince wrote with his previously estranged father).
Prince's next movie, Under the Cherry Moon, a romantic trifle shot on the French Riviera, with Prince replacing music video auteur Mary Lambert (Madonna's "Like a Virgin," among others) as director midway through production, bombed with critics and moviegoers. Its soundtrack album Parade (Number Three, 1986) yielded one chart-topper in the strippe-down funk number "Kiss" and two minor hits, "Mountains" (Number 23, 1986) and "Anotherloverholenyohead" (Number 63, 1986).
In 1987 Prince fired the Revolution (Wendy and Lisa would go on to record as a duo, scoring a minor hit single with "Waterfall," before settling into soundtrack work) and, retaining only Matt Fink, replaced them with a new, unnamed band featuring Sheila E. on drums. Prince alone would be credited on Sign 'O' the Times (Number Six, 1987), widely hailed by critics as a return to form — and, as time passed, as Prince's pinnacle. It yielded hit singles in the stark title track (Number Three, 1987), the rocking Sheena Easton duet "U Got the Look" (Number Two, 1987), and the poppy "I Could Never Take the Place of Your Man" (Number Ten, 1987). Prince toured Europe with his new band and a theatrically choreographed show, but rather than touring the U.S. released a film of a concert shot in Rotterdam, Holland (and extensively re-shot and overdubbed at Paisley Park's soundstage).
In late 1987 rumors circulated of a new Prince project, The Black Album, said to consist of musically and lyrically raw funk tracks. A number of copies were pressed for a secret release date (the album was unmarked apart from a serial number), but Prince changed his mind at the last minute. Before its eventual official release in late 1994, The Black Album became one of the most bootlegged LPs in pop history.
Prince's next official release was the mild Lovesexy (Number 11, 1988), which yielded only one hit, "Alphabet St." (Number Eight, 1988), but did prompt Prince's first U.S. tour in four years, performing on a rotating stage that the singer entered in a pink Cadillac.
In 1989 Prince had his first chart-topping album in four years with his soundtrack for director Tim Burton's big-budget film Batman. "Batdance" was Prince's first Number One since "Kiss." A year later, Prince — who'd already written and produced an album for Paisley Park signee Mavis Staples and undertaken productions for the Time's Morris Day and Jerome Benton and Batman star Kim Basinger — released Graffiti Bridge, a film that seemed to be a delayed sequel to Purple Rain, again pitting Prince against the Time on the Minneapolis club scene. Prince's love interest was played by Ingrid Chavez, who would gain greater fame for helping Lenny Kravitz write Madonna's hit "Justify My Love" (though she'd have to sue Kravitz to get a composing credit). The movie was another critical and commercial disaster; the soundtrack album (Number Six, 1990) yielded the hit "Thieves in the Temple" (Number six, 1990) and Tevin Campbell's Prince-penned "Round and Round" (Number 12, 1991).
In January 1991, at his recently opened Glam Slam nightclub in Minneapolis, Prince unveiled his new band, the New Power Generation, who would not tour the U.S. until 1993. The band included a rapping dancer (Anthony "Tony M" Mosely), in Prince's first nod to hip-hop, which had claimed a significant share of his black-pop audience and with which he never seemed comfortable musically. Eight months later he released his fifth album in five years, Diamonds and Pearls (Number Three, 1991), which spawned hits in the lascivious "Gett Off" (Number 21, 1991), "Cream" (Number One, 1991), and the title track (Number three, 1992). Warner Bros. made Prince a vice president when he re-signed with the label in 1992.
His next album (Number Five, 1992) was titled after an unpronounceable merger of the male and female gender symbols; its hit singles included "7" (Number Eight, 1992), "My Name Is Prince" (Number 36, 1992), and the profane "Sexy M.F." (Number 66, 1992).
In September 1993 Prince pulled the most eccentric move of his career: he changed his name to the unpronounceable symbol he had titled his last album. "Symbol Man," "Glyph," or "The Artist Formerly Known As Prince" — shortened to "the Artist," as he was now known — suffered widespread ridicule followed by a business setback in February 1994 when Warner Bros. dropped its distribution deal with Paisley Park Records, effectively putting the label out of business. Two weeks later the Artist released a new single, "The Most Beautiful Girl in the World" (Number Three pop, Number Two R&B), not on Warners but on independent Bellmark Records, which had had a huge hit the previous summer with Tag Team's "Whoomp! There It Is"; Warners said it allowed this "experiment" at the Artist's request but would release his future product.
Come (Number 15 pop, Number Two R&B), released later that year, was credited to "Prince (1958-1993)," and drawn from the Artist's backlog of studio recordings. It spawned two singles, "Letitgo" (Number 31 pop, Number Ten R&B) and "Space" (Number 71 R&B). The legit Black Album (Number 47 pop, Number 18 R&B) was finally released two weeks before Christmas. As his relationship with the label continued to wane, the Artist began appearing with the word "Slave" scrawled on his cheek.
Warners released four more albums: The Gold Experience (Number Six pop, Number two R&B, 1995)—which scored a hit in "I Hate U" (Number 12 pop, Number Three R&B) but was more notorious for the racy track "P Control"—the soundtrack to Spike Lee's movie Girl 6 (Number 75 pop, Number 15 R&B, 1996), Chaos & Disorder (Number 26 pop), and the archival The Vault: Old Friends 4 Sale (1999).
Meanwhile, the Artist issued the triple-CD set Emancipation (Number Two R&B, 1996) on his own New Power Generation (NPG) label, which was distributed through Capitol/EMI. The album went double platinum, and a remake of the Stylistics' 1972 hit "Betcha By Golly Wow" reached Number Ten on the R&B chart. The Artist also wed Mayte Garcia, a 22-year-old dancer and vocalist in his band. Their son died of a rare disorder called Pfeiffer's Syndrome shortly after birth in November 1996. Culling tracks from his archives, the Artist put out the four-CD compilation Crystal Ball (Number 62 pop, Number 59 R&B) in 1998, which he packaged in a clear plastic ball and marketed through his Web site by offering a fifth bonus disc, the acoustically-based The Truth. It sold 250,000 copies. Five months later came the more conventionally conceived single album New Power Soul (Number 22 pop, Number 9 R&B).
As the millennium loomed, so did the Warners rerelease of "1999" (Number 45 R&B, 1999) and the artist's own 1999 (The New Master) EP. That fall, Rave Un2 the Joy Fantastic (Number 18 pop, Number Eight R&B) was released through a licensing arrangement with Arista. (Stating his displeasure with Arista's marketing of the album, the Artist would later declare his intention to release a new version through his Web site called Rave In2 the Joy Fantastic.) The album, which was produced by "Prince," featured guest appearances by folk-rock singer Ani DiFranco and rapper Chuck D, both performers whom the Artist admired for distributing their music independently. With the expiration of his Warner/Chappell publishing contract on December 31, 1999, the Artist announced the following May that he was reclaiming his given name.
The first album the again-named Prince released was 2001's The Rainbow Children, a jazz-inflected recording with lyrics heavily influenced by Prince's conversion to the Jehovah's Witness faith. It was heavily panned, as was 2003's N.E.W.S., an instrumental disc. Between them, he issued One Nite Alone . . . Live!, a three-disc set..
In February 2004, Prince appeared with Beyonce at the Grammy Awards, playing his own "Purple Rain," "Let's Go Crazy," and "Baby I'm a Star," along with Beyonce's "Crazy in Love." A month later, he was inducted to the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame on his first try. During the closing ceremony he played the song-ending solo on George Harrison's "While My Guitar Gently Weeps," wowing the assembling with his feroscious virtuosity. Together, these performances made Prince the talk of pop music again. (Something similar would occur when he played the 2007 Super Bowl halftime show.)
He capped this newfound interest with the pleasantly old-school Musicology (Number Three, 2004) and a sold-out concert tour. 3121 (Number One, 2006) was a more polished, bigger-sounding variation on the prior album, and along with Planet Earth (Number Three, 2007), and the 3-CD set LOtUSFLOW3R (Number Two, 2009), it suggested that Prince would be capable of creating a string of comfortable, eclectic, well-turned albums for the rest of his career.
The prolific musician continued unusual record releases with the 2010 album 20Ten, which came out in Europe as a free release with the German edition of Rolling Stone and other publications. In recent years, he put out albums as companion pieces. The rock and funk–focused Plectrumelectrum, which found him fronting the otherwise all-girl trio 3rdEyeGirl, came out in 2014 along with the R&B solo LP Art Official Age, both of which charted in the Top 10. In 2015, he issued HitnRun Phase One and HitnRun Phase Two, the latter of which came out only via Jay Z's streaming service Tidal (the rare streaming service Prince approved of).
Prince died from a fentanyl overdose at his Paisley Park recording studio and home in Chanhassen, Minnesota on April 21st, 2016, at the age of 57. After his sudden death, there was a global outpouring of grief and disbelief, with many fans and collaborators sharing memories. With the fate of his estate and unpublished music in doubt, many were left wondering how Prince's legacy would continue. But his sister Tyka Nelson said in a statement issued by Bremer Trust, the current managers of the late legendary artist's estate, that Paisley Park would be opened for public tours since it was "something that Prince always wanted to do and was actively working on. ... Only a few hundred people have had the rare opportunity to tour the estate during his lifetime. Now fans from around the world will be able to experience Prince's world for the first time as we open the doors to this incredible place."
Portions of this biography appeared in The Rolling Stone Encyclopedia of Rock & Roll (Simon & Schuster, 2001). Evan Serpick and Kory Grow contributed to this article.
Remembering Prince
by The New Yorker
FRIDAY, APRIL 22nd
Now we have the 1986 Prince release, ''Parade'' (Warner Bros. WB25395, LP and cassette due out tomorrow, with the CD scheduled for April 28). It comes in the wake of his guardedly received 1985 album, ''Around the World in a Day,'' which was widely criticized for a false and over-ornate 1960's psychedelic feeling. But more than a corrective for any stylistic misstep - there is plenty of 60's atmosphere in ''Parade,'' too - the new album is an attempt to recoup ground lost by the negative publicity surrounding Prince personally.
It is likely to succeed in that aim for three unrelated reasons. One, it's very good. Two, as the soundtrack for Prince's forthcoming second film, ''Under the Cherry Moon,'' it may win a wider audience in the same way as the ''Purple Rain'' soundtrack. Three, given the increasing volatility of the pop music star-making and star-breaking apparatus, it's about time for public taste to swing back in Prince's favor.
The irony was that his entire early reputation was of an aggressive kid obsessed with explicit sexuality (typical song-themes included incest, fellatio, onanism and bondage). ''Purple Rain,'' aside from being a musically more diverse and assured album than most of his earlier efforts, also represented a softening of that image. Thus the uglier behavior that provoked last year's ''backlash'' might be seen as a reassertion of the ''real'' Prince.
But reality in this case seems considerably more interesting and complex; Prince is a talented, still-evolving musician capable of far more challenging work than a mere facile pop trickster with a dirty mind (the title of his 1980 album, and one of his best).
When he signed with Warner Bros. Records at the age of 17, Prince was a prodigiously gifted provincial loner who created most of his albums by himself in his Minneapolis studio, overdubbing all the instruments. This is a situation conducive to self-aggrandizing fantasies. And the mere presence of striking musical gifts -for composing, singing, instrumental playing and studio manipulation -can cover up an unsure, half-formed sense of artistic direction.
With Prince, sexuality seems to have been both a publicity ploy - one hardly unprecedented in the raunchy world of rock-and-roll - and a genuine reflection of his adolescent interests, or so he's said in interviews. This sexuality, coupled with a less-than-sure gift for lyric writing - his texts are often prosaic and naive -made his other themes, like God, the apocalypse and political injustice, seem hollow.
Indeed, Prince's success in overcoming musical and racial boundaries has not just directly (through his many proteges) and indirectly (through those he influenced) affected 1980's popular music. He has also done much to lessen the de facto segregation of black artists that had arisen in the early 80's on radio and in the televising of music videos.
Apart from the chanson flavorings, there is psychedelia here, too - most overtly in the ''Sgt. Pepper''-like opening of ''Christopher Tracy's Parade'' - as well as continued examples of Prince's tendency toward busy studio clutter overlaying a dance beat. There are also two songs co-written with his musician/ father, John L. Nelson, who once performed under the name Prince Rogers; Prince's full name is Prince Rogers Nelson, and he has apparently had a complex relationship with his father - depicted in part in ''Purple Rain.'' The two co-written songs are the most psychedelic ones, suggesting that Mr. Nelson, who also co-wrote two songs on ''Around the World,'' may have helped point Prince in that direction.
http://www.rollingstone.com/music/lists/25-greatest-prince-songs-20160421/kiss-1986-20160421
http://www.rollingstone.com/music/artists/prince/biography
Prince Bio
Prince was one of the most naturally gifted artists of all time, and also one of the most mysterious. In the Eighties, at a time when other megastars such as Michael Jackson, Bruce Springsteen, and Madonna, were delivering an album every three years or so, Prince remained prolific to an almost inhuman degree. A byproduct of his inexhaustible output was Prince's tendency toward wayward, self-indulgent career moves (like changing his name to an unpronounceable symbol in the Nineties) that sometimes alienated even his most ardent supporters.
Yet his taut, keyboard-dominated Minneapolis Sound — a hybrid of rock, pop, and funk, with blatantly sexual lyrics — not only influenced his fellow Minneapolis artists the Time and Janet Jackson's producers (and ex-Time members) Jimmy Jam and Terry Lewis, but also impacted much of 1980s dance-pop music. No other pop star could match the range of his talents, which included not just singing and dancing but also composing, producing, and playing many, many instruments. In fact, Prince played nearly all the instruments on his first five albums, and has produced himself since signing with Warner Bros. at age 21.
Under the name "Prince Rogers," Prince's father John Nelson was the leader of a Minneapolis-area jazz band, in which his mother was the vocalist. Prince started playing piano at age seven, guitar at 13, and drums at 14, all self-taught. At 14 he was in a band called Grand Central, which later became Champagne. Four years later, a demo tape he made with engineer Chris Moon reached local businessman Owen Husney. In 1978 Husney negotiated Prince's first contract with Warner Bros.
Prince released his first album, For You, in April, 1978, to minimal fanfare. "Soft and Wet" (Number 92, pop, Number 12 R&B, 1978) introduced his erotic approach, while "I Wanna Be Your Lover" (Number 11 pop, Number One R&B) and "Why You Wanna Treat Me So Bad?" (Number 13 R&B) from subsequent album Prince (Number 22, 1979) suggested his musical range and significantly upped his profile.
Dirty Mind (Number 45, 1980)—a loose concept album including songs such as "Head," about oral sex, and "Sister," about incest—established Prince's libidinous image once and for all. One of its few songs that wasn't too obscene for airplay, "Uptown," went to Number Five R&B, while "When You Were Mine" became Prince's most widely covered song and a minor comeback hit for Mitch Ryder in 1983 (it was later covered by Cyndi Lauper, among others, as well.)
Controversy (Number 21, 1981) had two hits, the title cut (Number 70 pop, Number Three R&B, 1981) and "Let's Work" (Number Nine, 1982). Prince, Dirty Mind, and Controversy all eventually went platinum. For his second album, Prince had formed a racially and sexually mixed touring band that included childhood friend Andre (Anderson) Cymone on bass, Dez Dickerson on guitar, keyboardists Gayle Chapman and Matt Fink, and drummer Bobby "Z" Rivkin. By the Dirty Mind tour, Chapman had been replaced by Lisa Coleman. When Dez Dickerson left Prince's band to launch an abortive solo career, he was replaced by Wendy Melvoin. In concert Prince frequently wore black bikini underpants underneath a trench coat.
Prince broke through to a new level of pop stardon with his double album, 1999 (Number Nine, 1982), which went platinum, bolstered by the Top 10 singles "Little Red Corvette" (Number Six, 1983) and "Delirious" (Number Eight, 1983), and the title track (Number 12, 1982). "Little Red Corvette" was also among the first videos by a black performer to be played regularly on MTV.
Prince "discovered" another Minneapolis band, the Time, whose members were cherry-picked from extant local bands Prince had gone back with to high school. The Time's first two albums went gold (the third went platinum); in turn, they supplied in-concert backup for Vanity 6, a female trio that had a club hit with "Nasty Girl" (Vanity would leave Prince's fold in 1983 to launch an unsuccessful solo career). Prince denied that he was the "Jamie Starr" who produced albums by the Time and Vanity 6. He did take both bands on tour with him, however.
Prince vaulted to superstardom in 1984 with Purple Rain, a seemingly autobiographical movie set in the Minneapolis club scene and co-starring the Time and Apollonia 6 (Patricia "Apollonia" Kotero having replaced Vanity). It was an enormous hit, as was the soundtrack album, which spent 24 weeks atop the chart and sold over 13 million copies, yielding hit singles with "When Doves Cry" (Number One, 1984), "Let's Go Crazy" (Number One, 1984), "Purple Rain" (Number Two, 1984), "I Would Die 4 U" (Number Eight, 1984), and "Take Me With U" (Number 25, 1985). The album marked the first time in his career that Prince had recorded with, and credited, his backing band, which he named the Revolution.
The opening act on Prince's 1984 tour was another of his female protégés, Latin percussionist Sheila E., the daughter of Santana percussionist Pete Escovedo, who hailed from Oakland, California, and whose album The Glamorous Life Prince had produced that year (as Jamie Starr).
At the 1985 Grammy Awards, Prince and the Revolution won Best Group Rock Vocal for "Purple Rain" and R&B Song of the Year for "I Feel For You" (actually from Prince, and a hit cover for Chaka Khan in 1984). After the gala, Prince — who, for all his sexual exhibitionism onstage, was painfully shy offstage — declined to take part in the all-star recording session for "We Are the World" (he later donated the track "4 the Tears in Your Eyes" to the USA for Africa album).
That, and his fey demeanor at the 1985 Academy Awards show, where he won a Best Original Score Oscar for Purple Rain, were the first signals of Prince's personal eccentricities to his newfound mass audience. In 1985 Prince also wrote Sheena Easton's suggestive hit single "Sugar Walls," under the pseudonym "Alexander Nevermind." And Tipper Gore credited allusions to masturbation in the Purple Rain track "Darling Nikki" with inspiring her to form the Parents Music Resource Center and to launch the Senate hearings on offensive rock lyrics, which led to the record industry's "voluntary" album-stickering policy.
Prince followed up Purple Rain with the psychedelic Around the World in a Day, which topped the chart for three straight weeks but was considered a critical and commercial disappointment. Prince reportedly had to be persuaded to release singles from it, but the album did yield hits in the Beatlesque "Raspberry Beret" (Number Two, 1985) and the funky "Pop Life" (Number Seven, 1985). Upon the album's release Prince's management announced his retirement from live performance (which lasted less than two years), and the opening of his own studio and record label, both named Paisley Park—after a track on the new album (which also included a spiritual epic, "The Ladder," which Prince wrote with his previously estranged father).
Prince's next movie, Under the Cherry Moon, a romantic trifle shot on the French Riviera, with Prince replacing music video auteur Mary Lambert (Madonna's "Like a Virgin," among others) as director midway through production, bombed with critics and moviegoers. Its soundtrack album Parade (Number Three, 1986) yielded one chart-topper in the strippe-down funk number "Kiss" and two minor hits, "Mountains" (Number 23, 1986) and "Anotherloverholenyohead" (Number 63, 1986).
In 1987 Prince fired the Revolution (Wendy and Lisa would go on to record as a duo, scoring a minor hit single with "Waterfall," before settling into soundtrack work) and, retaining only Matt Fink, replaced them with a new, unnamed band featuring Sheila E. on drums. Prince alone would be credited on Sign 'O' the Times (Number Six, 1987), widely hailed by critics as a return to form — and, as time passed, as Prince's pinnacle. It yielded hit singles in the stark title track (Number Three, 1987), the rocking Sheena Easton duet "U Got the Look" (Number Two, 1987), and the poppy "I Could Never Take the Place of Your Man" (Number Ten, 1987). Prince toured Europe with his new band and a theatrically choreographed show, but rather than touring the U.S. released a film of a concert shot in Rotterdam, Holland (and extensively re-shot and overdubbed at Paisley Park's soundstage).
In late 1987 rumors circulated of a new Prince project, The Black Album, said to consist of musically and lyrically raw funk tracks. A number of copies were pressed for a secret release date (the album was unmarked apart from a serial number), but Prince changed his mind at the last minute. Before its eventual official release in late 1994, The Black Album became one of the most bootlegged LPs in pop history.
Prince's next official release was the mild Lovesexy (Number 11, 1988), which yielded only one hit, "Alphabet St." (Number Eight, 1988), but did prompt Prince's first U.S. tour in four years, performing on a rotating stage that the singer entered in a pink Cadillac.
In 1989 Prince had his first chart-topping album in four years with his soundtrack for director Tim Burton's big-budget film Batman. "Batdance" was Prince's first Number One since "Kiss." A year later, Prince — who'd already written and produced an album for Paisley Park signee Mavis Staples and undertaken productions for the Time's Morris Day and Jerome Benton and Batman star Kim Basinger — released Graffiti Bridge, a film that seemed to be a delayed sequel to Purple Rain, again pitting Prince against the Time on the Minneapolis club scene. Prince's love interest was played by Ingrid Chavez, who would gain greater fame for helping Lenny Kravitz write Madonna's hit "Justify My Love" (though she'd have to sue Kravitz to get a composing credit). The movie was another critical and commercial disaster; the soundtrack album (Number Six, 1990) yielded the hit "Thieves in the Temple" (Number six, 1990) and Tevin Campbell's Prince-penned "Round and Round" (Number 12, 1991).
In January 1991, at his recently opened Glam Slam nightclub in Minneapolis, Prince unveiled his new band, the New Power Generation, who would not tour the U.S. until 1993. The band included a rapping dancer (Anthony "Tony M" Mosely), in Prince's first nod to hip-hop, which had claimed a significant share of his black-pop audience and with which he never seemed comfortable musically. Eight months later he released his fifth album in five years, Diamonds and Pearls (Number Three, 1991), which spawned hits in the lascivious "Gett Off" (Number 21, 1991), "Cream" (Number One, 1991), and the title track (Number three, 1992). Warner Bros. made Prince a vice president when he re-signed with the label in 1992.
His next album (Number Five, 1992) was titled after an unpronounceable merger of the male and female gender symbols; its hit singles included "7" (Number Eight, 1992), "My Name Is Prince" (Number 36, 1992), and the profane "Sexy M.F." (Number 66, 1992).
In September 1993 Prince pulled the most eccentric move of his career: he changed his name to the unpronounceable symbol he had titled his last album. "Symbol Man," "Glyph," or "The Artist Formerly Known As Prince" — shortened to "the Artist," as he was now known — suffered widespread ridicule followed by a business setback in February 1994 when Warner Bros. dropped its distribution deal with Paisley Park Records, effectively putting the label out of business. Two weeks later the Artist released a new single, "The Most Beautiful Girl in the World" (Number Three pop, Number Two R&B), not on Warners but on independent Bellmark Records, which had had a huge hit the previous summer with Tag Team's "Whoomp! There It Is"; Warners said it allowed this "experiment" at the Artist's request but would release his future product.
Come (Number 15 pop, Number Two R&B), released later that year, was credited to "Prince (1958-1993)," and drawn from the Artist's backlog of studio recordings. It spawned two singles, "Letitgo" (Number 31 pop, Number Ten R&B) and "Space" (Number 71 R&B). The legit Black Album (Number 47 pop, Number 18 R&B) was finally released two weeks before Christmas. As his relationship with the label continued to wane, the Artist began appearing with the word "Slave" scrawled on his cheek.
Warners released four more albums: The Gold Experience (Number Six pop, Number two R&B, 1995)—which scored a hit in "I Hate U" (Number 12 pop, Number Three R&B) but was more notorious for the racy track "P Control"—the soundtrack to Spike Lee's movie Girl 6 (Number 75 pop, Number 15 R&B, 1996), Chaos & Disorder (Number 26 pop), and the archival The Vault: Old Friends 4 Sale (1999).
Meanwhile, the Artist issued the triple-CD set Emancipation (Number Two R&B, 1996) on his own New Power Generation (NPG) label, which was distributed through Capitol/EMI. The album went double platinum, and a remake of the Stylistics' 1972 hit "Betcha By Golly Wow" reached Number Ten on the R&B chart. The Artist also wed Mayte Garcia, a 22-year-old dancer and vocalist in his band. Their son died of a rare disorder called Pfeiffer's Syndrome shortly after birth in November 1996. Culling tracks from his archives, the Artist put out the four-CD compilation Crystal Ball (Number 62 pop, Number 59 R&B) in 1998, which he packaged in a clear plastic ball and marketed through his Web site by offering a fifth bonus disc, the acoustically-based The Truth. It sold 250,000 copies. Five months later came the more conventionally conceived single album New Power Soul (Number 22 pop, Number 9 R&B).
As the millennium loomed, so did the Warners rerelease of "1999" (Number 45 R&B, 1999) and the artist's own 1999 (The New Master) EP. That fall, Rave Un2 the Joy Fantastic (Number 18 pop, Number Eight R&B) was released through a licensing arrangement with Arista. (Stating his displeasure with Arista's marketing of the album, the Artist would later declare his intention to release a new version through his Web site called Rave In2 the Joy Fantastic.) The album, which was produced by "Prince," featured guest appearances by folk-rock singer Ani DiFranco and rapper Chuck D, both performers whom the Artist admired for distributing their music independently. With the expiration of his Warner/Chappell publishing contract on December 31, 1999, the Artist announced the following May that he was reclaiming his given name.
The first album the again-named Prince released was 2001's The Rainbow Children, a jazz-inflected recording with lyrics heavily influenced by Prince's conversion to the Jehovah's Witness faith. It was heavily panned, as was 2003's N.E.W.S., an instrumental disc. Between them, he issued One Nite Alone . . . Live!, a three-disc set..
In February 2004, Prince appeared with Beyonce at the Grammy Awards, playing his own "Purple Rain," "Let's Go Crazy," and "Baby I'm a Star," along with Beyonce's "Crazy in Love." A month later, he was inducted to the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame on his first try. During the closing ceremony he played the song-ending solo on George Harrison's "While My Guitar Gently Weeps," wowing the assembling with his feroscious virtuosity. Together, these performances made Prince the talk of pop music again. (Something similar would occur when he played the 2007 Super Bowl halftime show.)
He capped this newfound interest with the pleasantly old-school Musicology (Number Three, 2004) and a sold-out concert tour. 3121 (Number One, 2006) was a more polished, bigger-sounding variation on the prior album, and along with Planet Earth (Number Three, 2007), and the 3-CD set LOtUSFLOW3R (Number Two, 2009), it suggested that Prince would be capable of creating a string of comfortable, eclectic, well-turned albums for the rest of his career.
The prolific musician continued unusual record releases with the 2010 album 20Ten, which came out in Europe as a free release with the German edition of Rolling Stone and other publications. In recent years, he put out albums as companion pieces. The rock and funk–focused Plectrumelectrum, which found him fronting the otherwise all-girl trio 3rdEyeGirl, came out in 2014 along with the R&B solo LP Art Official Age, both of which charted in the Top 10. In 2015, he issued HitnRun Phase One and HitnRun Phase Two, the latter of which came out only via Jay Z's streaming service Tidal (the rare streaming service Prince approved of).
Prince died from a fentanyl overdose at his Paisley Park recording studio and home in Chanhassen, Minnesota on April 21st, 2016, at the age of 57. After his sudden death, there was a global outpouring of grief and disbelief, with many fans and collaborators sharing memories. With the fate of his estate and unpublished music in doubt, many were left wondering how Prince's legacy would continue. But his sister Tyka Nelson said in a statement issued by Bremer Trust, the current managers of the late legendary artist's estate, that Paisley Park would be opened for public tours since it was "something that Prince always wanted to do and was actively working on. ... Only a few hundred people have had the rare opportunity to tour the estate during his lifetime. Now fans from around the world will be able to experience Prince's world for the first time as we open the doors to this incredible place."
Portions of this biography appeared in The Rolling Stone Encyclopedia of Rock & Roll (Simon & Schuster, 2001). Evan Serpick and Kory Grow contributed to this article.
Remembering Prince
by The New Yorker
This post will be continually updated with tributes to the pop artist Prince, who died on Thursday, at the age of fifty-seven.
SUNDAY, APRIL 24th
Miles
Davis, in his autobiography, compared Prince to Duke Ellington; one
might be tempted to add Miles himself to that comparison. When we
discuss artists so transcendently brilliant and impossibly prolific,
their rarities and deep cuts offer profundities that dwarf the entire
catalogues of lesser musicians. While standard radio play and popular
consciousness constantly focus on the hits—the “Kind of Blues,” the
“Mood Indigos,” the “Purple Rains” (it seems there is a particular
corner of the color wheel reserved for musical genius)—obsessive and
completist fans search out the bootlegs, loudly proclaiming their
obscure favorites to be equal, if not superior, to the more famous
albums. The record labels have learned to exploit this kind of
obsessiveness, especially posthumously.
In
his typically iconoclastic manner, Prince bypassed the labels well
before his tragically premature death, selling albums of unreleased
tracks directly to his most loyal listeners. (Always a canny
businessperson, he realized that direct sales to a few hundred thousand
die-hards would earn him more than royalties from a multi-platinum hit
on a major label.) While this later, independent output cannot rival the
run of masterpieces that he produced between 1980 and 1988 for Warner
Brothers, the best of it holds its own (and, not surprisingly, often
consists of previously unreleased material from those peak years). On a
weekend when we’re all thinking of our favorite Prince song, when
pundits are debating whether “1999” or “Kiss” best represents his
vision, let me offer a dark horse to the race, the eleven minutes of
freak-pop perfection that make up “Crystal Ball.”
“Crystal
Ball” was originally going to be the title track of what later became
1987’s “Sign ‘O’ the Times”—in an early preview of his major-label
frustrations, Prince wanted to put out a three-album set, but Warner
Brothers forced him to a two-album maximum. So the song went back on the
shelf, and became a sought-after bootleg for years. It was finally made
available legally in 1998, part of a four-disc collection of rarities
plus new material, also called “Crystal Ball,” that Prince
self-released. Many critics and fans consider “Purple Rain” to be
Prince’s career highlight, but for me the period from “Sign ‘O’ the
Times” to 1988’s “Lovesexy” is the deepest compositionally. You can hear
why Davis compared him to Duke Ellington. Like Ellington’s “Reminiscing
in Tempo” or “Ad Lib on Nippon,” songs like “The Ballad of Dorothy
Parker,” “Positivity,” and “Crystal Ball” exist in a pop context but
follow their own rules; they are extended compositions that tell
long-form narratives through unique song structures.
“Crystal
Ball” is particularly operatic in scope. It opens with a minimalist
heartbeat on the bass drum, with Prince’s great orchestrator, the late
Clare Fischer, providing washes of cinematic color, from overblown
flutes to lush strings. (Fischer was to Prince as Gil Evans was to Miles
Davis.) After a minute and a half of slow-building tension, Prince’s
whispered voice is finally ushered in with a siren, an impossibly funky
synth bass waiting until the second iteration to join in. The groove
expands as the lyrics turn darker (“As bombs explode around us and hate
advances on the right / The only thing that matters, baby, is the love
that we make tonight”), drums filling out the kit, a little scratchy
rhythm guitar coming on board. The story is impenetrable, a mélange of
Christian spirituality and unquenchable sexuality, full of Prince’s
personal mythologies and references, but the passion is irresistible, a
post-apocalyptic gospel. Five minutes in, another siren signals a
transition into something that could be on a Sly and the Family Stone
album, if Sly ever danced on a vibraphone. Like James Brown, Prince
screams each instrument into its solo, but the funk stays futuristic
rather than referential, and Prince is playing every solo himself. By
the eighth minute, as the orchestra peaks, we could be in the weirdest
James Bond movie ever made. After Prince demonstrates why his drumming
might be the only underrated element of his instrumental virtuosity, the
song floats back down, reprising the initial groove though a final
crescendo before an exhausted collapse.
There
is an undeniable power to crafting pop hits so catchy that hundreds
spontaneously gather in the streets to sing them in mourning their
author. It is also overwhelming to think of a creative mind so fertile
that something like “Crystal Ball” could sit almost unheard for over a
decade. Both are marks of a genius so rare, an artistry so unique, that
it is difficult to imagine a future without it. Searching out hidden
treasures helps dull the pain, but never erases the fact that we are no
longer graced with the next idea. Somehow creative music managed to
survive Ellington’s death, and Davis’s, and in some unimaginable way, it
will survive Prince’s. So in celebrating the irreplaceable and immortal
inspiration of Prince’s music, let us also prepare our ears for the
next artist who will join this exalted pantheon, the next artist who
will exist, as Ellington would say in his highest praise, “beyond
category.”
—Taylor Ho Bynum
SATURDAY, APRIL 23rd
Amid
the bewildered flurry of clips and videos that were screened, in
tribute, after the unexpected death of David Bowie, in January, one of
the most interesting was from an interview he gave on MTV,
in 1983. Bowie tells the host, Mark Goodman, that, having watched the
network for a few months, he is “just floored by the fact that there are
so few black artists featured on it. Why is that?” He adds, “the only
black artists one does see are on about two-thirty in the morning, till
around six.” By way of explanation, a surprised Goodman says that the
network has to think about audiences not just in New York and L.A. but
in places like “Poughkeepsie or some town in the Midwest,” where, he
seems to think, people are “scared to death” of Prince, whom MTV has
played. Bowie is clearly dismayed, but just smiles and says, “That’s
very interesting.”
Now Prince,
too, is suddenly gone. In fairness, Goodman wasn’t entirely wrong about
him—he certainly enjoyed piercing the conventions of popular culture.
That was something that Prince and Bowie shared. They both created
substantial and eclectic bodies of work while presenting themselves in
ways that challenged all categories. They were the kind of people whom,
as you walk down the street going about your daily business, you wish
there were many more of. I don’t know if they ever met, but Prince sang
“Heroes,” in a tribute to Bowie, at a concert in Toronto last month. He
sang it again on the night of his last show, in Atlanta, as an encore.
I
was once in the same room as Prince. A friend invited my husband and me
to an impromptu party for him at a restaurant in Harlem. There was no
rush, the friend said, Prince wouldn’t be there before eleven. We
arrived fashionably late, at 11:30, and were led to a room upstairs,
where there was food and drink and Prince playing on the box, and we
waited—for one hour, then two. The d.j. switched the soundtrack to
Sinatra. But then, Prince was there. He was ushered to a chair in a
corner of the room, protected by a velvet rope, and, after a while, an
assistant began summoning people to meet him. First up was Salma Hayek,
who sat with him (I thought) for a rather long time. We began to realize
that, by the time they got around to calling us, it would be lunchtime,
so we left. We didn’t meet Prince, but we were with him, in a sort of
spiritual way that I think he might have appreciated. In that sense, it
was a disappointing but not unsatisfactory New York encounter with the
eccentric genius from the Twin Cities.
It
was a little sad that he seemed so isolated, even in a small room. But
that didn’t jibe with other stories you heard about Prince. Another
friend had seen him late one night at a bar on Avenue A, where he gamely
tried to teach a guy how to dance to reggae, until the project proved
futile, and he was forced to abandon it. (Prince had some
disappointments, too, I guess.) Then there was his charming and
hilarious cameo two years ago on Zooey Deschanel’s show, “New Girl,” in
which he showed a healthy and amused understanding of his own image.
Not
that his universe was all red Corvettes and raspberry berets. He lived
in the real world, too. Last year, at the Grammys, he made the simple
but elegant statement, “Albums, like books and black lives, still
matter.” He wrote a memorial song, “Baltimore,”
after the death of Freddie Gray, which he performed at a free concert
in that city, and he donated to a jobs program there for young people.
On Thursday night, the dome of the Baltimore City Hall was lit up in
purple.
And he certainly seemed at
home in his hometown. People in Minneapolis spoke of seeing him riding
his bike and visiting record shops and jazz clubs. On the city’s
streets, there is as much graffiti devoted to him as to onetime
Dinkytown resident Bob Dylan. I happened to be in Minneapolis with my
son last weekend. On Sunday morning, I read about Prince’s illness, with
some alarm, in the Star Tribune. But there was a deep general
sense of relief that he had appeared to be all right at the dance party
he threw the previous night, at Paisley Park. I later learned that he
had sent out an invitation on Twitter—anyone willing to spend ten
dollars was welcome. I wish I had known. It would have been nice to be
in a room with him again.
—Virginia Cannon
FRIDAY, APRIL 22nd
Before
I knew you could dress that way; before I knew it was called “funk,”
and before I learned what a synthesizer did; before I knew that love
songs could sound solitary and weird, and before I figured out that
Minneapolis must be on another planet; before the sound of computer
blues and militant drum machines, of sex dressed up as lullaby; before
“Kiss” unnerved me, and before I reasoned that it was because of the
falsetto; before I understood the value of “an intellect and a
savoir-faire”; before my mother bribed me into transcribing the lyrics
of “Nothing Compares 2 U” for her, and before I understood the devilry
of binding contracts; before I understood what “Gett Off” meant or who
“critics in New York” were, and before I discovered that you could drop
the long version of “Erotic City,” go to the bar for a drink, and still
be fulfilling your obligations as a d.j.; before I understood that you
could just keep making art in your own special language, well past the
point where all eyes trained on you, and that it was just for those who
had loyally stayed until the end: before all of that, I saw purple.
Not
sound, but vision. As a kid in the mid-eighties, the color palette of
my imagination was washed-out and dull. And then, one day, there was
radiance. It was the audacity of all that purple that first drew me to
Prince, the pure hubris of a man with an unusual name draping himself in
an unloved color. Purple not just as a color, I would soon discover,
but purple as a philosophy and worldview, as a shade of night they
didn’t want you to know about. The sky was blue, red was the color of
passion and rage, trees and money were green, but what was purple?
Purple was mystery. It was erotic, whatever that meant. Purple was
imperious and arrogant, neither masculine nor feminine. Purple as a
shade of black. Before I knew the word “transgressive,” I knew what it
felt like to sit with a stranger’s weirdness, and reckon with
inscrutability by basking in it.
The
representative, late-career Prince anecdote involves him showing up,
laying waste to all in his vicinity, whether onstage or on the
basketball court, and then vanishing. The thing about Prince was always
the sheer effortlessness of his swagger. He arrived in my imagination
fully formed, as a figure so certain of who he was and what his music
was supposed to sound like, that I felt compelled to believe in him and
his purple inertia, even if it at first confused me. That color baffled
me, until I grew to love it myself, and it prepared me for everything
else: a symbol that couldn’t be pronounced, the thinness of the line
separating one person’s body from another, a path that you made by
flying.
—Hua Hsu
Prince
overlapped with my adolescence, and he was better than a lot of other
sex ed. I listened to “Erotic City” and took notes. Some of the details
were confusing: Why would a woman carry Trojans in her pocket, “some of
them used”? It took me years to realize that Darling Nikki wasn’t
literally masturbating with a magazine.
But
the over-all message was mind-blowing, particularly in the Safe Sex
era: for Prince, sex was at the center; it was funk and freedom, not
fear. It was neither male nor female; it was intimacy and power; it was
important and, best of all, funny and fun. He liked women, not girls.
You didn’t need experience to turn him out. My favorite song, “If I Was
Your Girlfriend,” begins with the wedding march. Then it gets so deeply
funky that it glides straight into a nervous breakdown. A man is
crooning to his girlfriend, begging her to be as close with him as she’d
be with a female best friend, to let him make her breakfast, let him
wash her hair—and much more. “If I was your girlfriend / Would you let
me dress you? / I mean, help you pick up out your clothes / Before we go
out? / Not that you’re helpless / But sometimes, sometimes / Those are
the things that being in love’s about.” It’s a seduction, but so
sincere: a groan of desire from a man who feels locked out precisely because
he’s a man, jonesing so hard for intimacy that his “PLEE-EE-EESE” is a
different kind of climax. It’s also, like a lot of his songs, a
conversation. (Even in the dance songs: “What was that?” “Aftershock!”)
I
know that Prince made other great music, but for me he is a pungent
flashback to the eighties and early nineties. The song I knew best was
the enormous single “Raspberry Beret,” because the loudspeakers played
it over and over at the worst job I ever had, putting anti-shoplifting
tags on clothing at a J. C. Penney. But although there have been plenty
of recent shows that capture those decades, from “The Americans” to “The
People vs. O. J. Simpson,” the truth is that TV could just as well play
“Sign ’O the Times.” It begins with a stripped beat. Then “OH, YEAH.”
And then a tiny poem of the period: “In France, a skinny man died of a
big disease with a little name / By chance his girlfriend came across a
needle and soon she did the same.” The words go on, in a tone that is
newspaper-deadpan: gangs, guns, crack, “Star Wars,” the Challenger
explosion—a country that puts a man on the moon but lets a woman be so
poor that she kills her baby. It ends, as many Prince songs do, with a
remark that is both serious and silly, a wry punch line to the
devastation. First comes the romance: “Hurray, before it’s too late /
Let’s fall in love, get married, have a baby!” And then the twist:
“We’ll call him Nate / If it’s a boy.” I laugh every time I hear it;
it’s so random, so personal, so conversational, a joy in the unexpected.
—Emily Nussbaum
I
know there’s only so much you can do to conjure up a long-ago concert,
and that it’s only so much fun to read about it when you can’t hear or
see it. But, for a lot of people, there’s That Show, the one you were
lucky or fleetingly cool enough to somehow get tickets to, the one you
might tell your kids you saw, eliciting a flicker of envious respect.
Mine happens to have been a Prince concert, on Valentine’s Day, 1982, at
the San Francisco Civic Auditorium. I was a junior in college. Prince
was touring for his album “Controversy.”
As
white kids, my boyfriend George and I were in a minority in the
audience, and as straight white kids, we were in an even smaller one.
Prince was still mostly known as a funk performer and hadn’t crossed
over in a big way. He had a disco fandom: black and gay and club-wild.
It was the first time, and one of the best times, that I felt that kind
of Dionysian boundary-melting you’re supposed to feel at concerts, with
“I Wanna Be Your Lover” pounding in my chest cavity like an enlarged
heart, and stranger’s hands pulling me into an ecstatic scrum of dancers
near the stage. Prince was spry and androgynous, leaping around the
stage in ankle boots like a sexed-up Peter Pan. Afterward, some drag
queens in gleaming spandex we had met at the show invited us to a gay
bar in Oakland, where we danced to Gloria Gaynor and Sylvester on the
jukebox till 4 A.M.
The next morning I had an interview for a summer internship at Newsweek,
and I botched it. I was hungover; I couldn’t find any whiteout to
correct the sample column I was supposed to bring; my only pair of
tights were extravagantly shredded. I knew I wouldn’t get the job, and I
didn’t. I can remember thinking that I’d made a conscious choice in
favor of abandon, and though I told myself I’d been irresponsible and
should be full of chaste regret, I could not summon it up. And I was
right not to: from the vantage point of middle age, I can say this is
not the sort of excess one ever regrets. Prince was a pied piper of
polymorphous perversity, of the commingling of psychedelia and funk, gay
and straight, black and white. I would go on to see him in a much
bigger venue, when he was a much bigger deal. But it was that February
night in 1982 that mattered, when I watched him sing: “Life is just a
game / We’re all just the same / Do you wanna play?” and said, Yes.
—Margaret Talbot
THURSDAY, APRIL 21st
It’s hard to imagine Prince not in this life; he was the epitome of live. I
loved his records, his sweetness and strangeness, his genius as a seer
of sexuality and performance. The greatest gift was to see him onstage.
Live, emerging from the dry-ice clouds, he was unforgettable,
unstoppable, a weather system all his own. If there’s any way to
alleviate the awfulness of the news—Prince’s life cut short at
fifty-seven—it’s to recall some of his greatest moments onstage. Miles
Davis had it right: Prince was some otherworldly blend of James Brown,
Jimi Hendrix, Marvin Gaye, and Charlie Chaplin. “How can you miss with
that?” Miles asked.
—David Remnick
A surprise appearance by Prince, a month ago, for a memoir announcement at
a Manhattan night club, had the satisfying elements you might imagine:
brilliance, humor, otherworldliness, tardiness, costume changes,
funkiness, eccentricity. He stood on a glass balcony above us, as if
he’d descended to earth as an act of generosity. And, in fact, he had.
“I literally just got off the plane,” he told us. “I’m going to go home
and change and put some dancing clothes on.” He was already wearing what
I’d consider dancing clothes: a purple-and-gold striped pajama suit. He
put a huge pair of sunglasses on. “Now I can see,” he said.
Because
of that strange and magical night, and because of the miracle that was
Prince, it’s very hard to believe today’s news that he has died. His
genius was hard enough to comprehend as he walked among us. Unlike other
pop stars and celebrities—unlike other humans—he seemed not to have
aged. And his apparent youthfulness, at age fifty-seven, didn’t appear
to be because of effortful vanity. He seemed to actually not have aged—as if life’s usual rules didn’t apply to him.
—Sarah Larson
This
morning, the news came that paramedics were responding to a “fatality”
at Paisley Park, the sprawling, modern studio and fairyland in
Chanhassen, Minnesota, built by Prince Rogers Nelson as a monument to
both his legacy and his eccentric personality. The name that followed
was chilling for Prince’s world-spanning collection of fans. The
musician was dead at fifty-seven. Last Friday, reports described Prince
being ill and forcing his private jet to make an emergency landing in
Illinois following a concert in Atlanta; he appeared at a dance
party the next day to reassure the public that he was healthy. The
enigma proved confounding even in his final scenes.
Prince’s
run of stardom during the mid-eighties spawned several hits, films,
commercials, collaborations, and what seemed like a limitless trove of
recordings. And he’d risen again in the public eye in recent years: in
2014, Prince released “Art Official Age,” and he followed that in 2015
with a pair of albums, “Hit n Run Phase One” and “Hit n Run Phase Two,”
which stepped warmly into the soft-thump funk, inventive, borderless
jazz, and rallying sentiments that have been taken up by pockets of
younger R. & B. acts. He took to singers like Janelle Monáe,
Esperanza Spalding, and Lianne La Havas as muses, as well as touring
regularly with his band 3rd Eye Girl, and would routinely summon local
Minnesota artists to his estate. Presenting at last year’s Grammy
Awards, he offered, “Like books and black lives, albums still matter,”
denouncing the digital and bureaucratic oligarchies that he’d spoken out
against throughout his career.
Fans
grew accustomed to an adult version of the Prince they’d seen so
mythically in his youth: less a deified king lording over his dominion
and more an aged doyen, insulated from the rules and norms of common
society but still watching transfixed from his wing, poking at the
center at will: a master still at play. “When you’re twenty years old,
you’re looking for the ledge,” Prince told Arsenio Hall in 2014. “You
want to see how far you can push everything . . . and then you make
changes. There’s a lot of things I don’t do now that I did thirty years
ago. And then there’s some things I still do.”
Now
we begin the collective, active experience of remembering Prince. New
corners of his cavernous catalogue and stories of impressions from those
that met him will be unearthed, shared. His is one of the handful of
pop legacies whose broadness cannot be simplified in even its most
romantic, famous moments, and now we must work to enjoy and adore that
legacy as it warrants.
—Matthew Trammell
“Here
I go again, falling in love all over,” Prince squeals at the beginning
of “Pink Cashmere,” a one-off, gloriously careening six-minute
rhythm-and-blues jam he recorded in 1988, at his own Paisley Park
studios, for his girlfriend at the time, the British model and actress
Anna Garcia (or Anna Fantastic, to crib Prince’s gilded, glamorizing
parlance). The song’s opening lyric is preceded by an ecstatic “Oooh!”
that contains, as far as I can tell, everything there is to know about
the deeply hysterical moment in which a person suddenly recognizes
that—oh, God—he or she is really done for. Maybe you were doing all
right yesterday—maybe you had yourself together—but now? Someone’s got
you fully in his or her grip. When love hits like that, it can feel
brutal, violent, like getting grabbed from behind on a street corner.
Then, on the other side of that terror: bliss, wonder. Something like
happiness.
This,
of course, is merely the situation of being alive, Prince suggests;
glory and anguish are always present in everything, and often in equal
parts. The paradox of love—how it’s both the kindest and the cruelest
thing a person can inflict on someone else—exists in almost all of
Prince’s songs, animating them. “The cycle never ends, you pray you
don’t get burned, OW!” is how he figures it on “Pink Cashmere.”
Although
the song didn’t make it onto a proper LP until 1993, when it was
included on the “The Hits/The B-Sides” boxed set, I’ve long thought
“Pink Cashmere” is one of the most intoxicating and almost inexplicably
multitudinous rhythm-and-blues songs ever recorded. Prince, like all our
best singers, had a cornucopia of voices awaiting deployment, each
communicating a separate but essential emotional state. On “Pink
Cashmere” he exhibits a staggering range, from a nearly feral-sounding
falsetto to a deeper, more guttural alto. It is hard to accept,
sometimes, that they were all born from the same body.
The
title refers to an actual garment, a gift: a pink cashmere coat, with a
contrasting black mink collar and cuffs. Prince had it made for Anna by
his personal tailor. Her name was embroidered on the sleeve; an “89”
was festooned on the back. I have never seen a photograph of it, but I
imagine it to be a kind of bespoke masterwork, a literal manifestation
of love’s strange, supple, mollifying embrace. I am certain that she
looked incredible with it curled around her shoulders. I am certain
almost anybody would.
—Amanda Petrusich
At
two-thirty this afternoon, about eighty people were standing outside
First Avenue, the club in Minneapolis that figures in “Purple Rain.”
Outside the club is a wall with stars painted on it. Embedded in the
stars are the names of various acts. Beneath the one for Prince was a
collection of those bouquets that florists make with flowers and paper
and cellophane and ribbon. Several held purple tulips. Beside the
flowers someone had leaned a black Fender guitar. Men and women came
around the corner in twos and threes, as if summoned, many having walked
from their offices and wearing their ID tags around their necks. In the
morning there had been rain, but the sky had cleared and the sun was
out.
“Fifty-seven, he’s younger than
my mom,” a tall young man with a corona of black hair said. His name
was Tom Steffis, and he worked at the University of Minnesota, he said.
He stood between Ryan Thompson, a student at the university who was in
class when he heard, and Merv Moorhead, who said, “I was working at my
computer when I heard, and I knew I had to come down.”
“He
means a lot to the city, because he never really left,” Steffis said.
“Minneapolis is small enough that everybody has a story about him.” The
three of them shared several, mainly revolving around surprising
gestures or acts of kindness.
Then
one of them said, “My best friend’s mom in high school was in the
opening shot of ‘Purple Rain.’ She waited three hours for the club to
open.”
“Little-known fact,” Thompson said. “The movie wasn’t filmed in here. Everybody thinks it was.”
“It was the first place he played the song,” Steffis said.
Thompson
has blond hair and a beard. He held a fancy-looking camera. “I worked
on one of his videos,” he said. “It was seventeen-hour days, and he came
out in these glory heels and from the back I thought it was an
attractive woman, and he turned around, and I’m like, That’s Prince.”
“He
really came out of his shell these last five years,” Steffis said, and
they all nodded. He said that Prince gave parties at his estate, Paisley
Park. “It’s this really unique place that’s by the side of the road in
the middle of nowhere,” Thompson said.
Steffis
said that Prince charged fifty dollars at the door, and sometimes he
played. “There was never a guarantee he would play,” Steffis said.
“Sometimes
he’d play two or three songs with the band, and he wouldn’t feel it,
and he’d quit. Then he’d come back later and play for two or three
hours,” Thompson said.
“First time I saw him he came on at four-thirty in the morning,” one of them said.
“It was all spontaneous.”
“That would discourage people from turning out.”
“They didn’t want to drive out there, and pay fifty bucks and have him not play, I guess.”
“There was no alcohol, and if they saw you using a cell phone they’d throw you out.”
“One time he served pancakes at five in the morning.”
Beside
the three young men stood a woman with tears on her cheeks. A number of
people held phones toward the flowers and the wall. A reporter and a
cameraman from a Minneapolis station threaded their way among them.
Hardly anyone spoke.
“My first
Prince memory is a couple of my friends and I stayed up all night and
when it came to sunrise we ran into Lake Minnetonka,” Steffis said
finally.
“That’s the line in ‘Purple
Rain,’ ” Thompson said, and then all three of them said, “Purify
yourselves in the waters of Lake Minnetonka.” Then they said maybe that
wasn’t exactly the line, but it was pretty close.
After
a moment, Thompson said, “A lady at the coffee shop told me that he
used to have forty-hour Tantric-sex sessions back in the day.”
“There
are so many rumors about him,” Steffis said. They agreed that this was
the case, and then the three of them fell silent, too.
—Alec Wilkinson
There
will be longer pieces written, and better ones, about the death of
Prince, but the main point is that there will be many, and each will
demonstrate purely and powerfully how deeply he connected with those of
us who loved his music, his spirit, his playfulness, his petulance, his
bravery, his youth, his wisdom, his weirdness, his virtuosity, and his
vision.
Other articles will go
through it all: his family, his father, 94 East, First Avenue, “Dirty
Mind,” “Purple Rain,” the coughing on the extended “Raspberry Beret,”
every second of every Sign O the Times show, the rest. I’m just making
lists here to keep from sinking, just thinking to keep from feeling.
“1999” was about the apocalypse, back in 1982. When the real 1999 came,
people looked back seventeen years and laughed that nothing had ended.
Seventeen years later, we’re all wrong.
We
all discovered Prince at different times, but with the same sense—that
he had discovered us. Tell your own stories about when you heard a song
on the radio, or on a cassette, and how it lit you up from inside. The
stories will be surprisingly similar.
Writing
to mourn Prince doesn’t seem to make sense. Dreiser said, “Words are
but vague shadows of the volumes we mean.” Prince said, “I’m not a woman
/ I’m not a man / I am something that you’ll never understand.” But we
understood at least that. The lyric is from “I Would Die 4 U,” of
course. Messianism turns to memorial.
Everyone
will carry at least one song with him today. I’m carrying “Still Would
Stand All Time,” the gospel ballad from “Graffiti Bridge.”
—Ben Greenman
Read more: David Remnick on Prince’s live persona; Sarah Larson on dancing to Prince; and our Prince remembrance cover and cartoon. From the archive, see Sasha Frere-Jones on Prince in Las Vegas, Claire Hoffman on visiting Prince’s L.A. home, and Sarah Larson on seeing him perform live last month.
https://www.britannica.com/biography/Prince-singer-and-songwriter
https://www.britannica.com/biography/Prince-singer-and-songwriter
Prince
American singer, songwriter, musician, and producer
by Robert Walser- Also known as
- the Artist
- the Artist Formerly Known as Prince
- Prince Rogers Nelson
- born
- June 7, 1958
Minneapolis, Minnesota - died
- April 21, 2016
Chanhassen, Minnesota
Prince, original name Prince Rogers Nelson, later called the Artist Formerly Known as Prince, the Artist, and (born June 7, 1958, Minneapolis, Minnesota, U.S.—died April 21, 2016,
Chanhassen, Minnesota) singer, guitarist, songwriter, producer, dancer,
and performer on keyboards, drums, and bass who was among the most
talented American musicians of his generation. Like Stevie Wonder,
he was a rare composer who could perform at a professional level on
virtually all the instruments he required, and a considerable number of
his recordings feature him in all the performing roles. Prince’s
recording career began with funk and soul marketed to a black audience; his early music also reflected the contemporary musical impact of disco. Later records incorporated a vast array of influences, including jazz, punk, heavy metal, the Beatles, and hip-hop, usually within an overall approach most informed by funky up-tempo styles and soulful ballads; the latter often featured his expressive falsetto singing.
Taking an early interest in music, Prince began playing the piano at age 7 and had mastered the guitar
and drums by the time he joined his first band at age 14. With very few
African American residents, his hometown, Minneapolis, Minnesota, was
an unlikely site for the development of a major black star, but Prince
even managed to lead other local musicians, most notably Jimmy Jam and Terry Lewis, to major success.
Mirrored
by correspondingly intense music, Prince’s lyrics often address
sexuality and desire with frankness and imagination. Much of his work,
in its lyrics and imagery, struggles with the constriction of social
conventions and categories. As one of his biographers put it, “The whole
thrust of Prince’s art can be understood in terms of a desire to escape
the social identities thrust upon him by simple virtue of his being
small, black, and male.”
Prince
explored typographical oddities in his song titles and lyrics as
another way of evading convention. In 1993 he announced that he had
changed his name to a combination of the male and female gender signs—.
There is also a strong religious impulse in some of his music,
sometimes fused into a kind of sacred erotic experience that has roots
in African American churches.
“
Little Red Corvette” (1983) was Prince’s first big crossover hit, gaining airplay on MTV at a time when virtually no black artists appeared on the influential new medium. Purple Rain (1984) made him one of the major stars of the 1980s and remains his biggest-selling album. Three of its singles were hits: the frenetic “
Let’s Go Crazy,” the androgynous but vulnerable “
When Doves Cry,” and the anthemic title cut. Thereafter, he continued to produce inventive music of broad appeal; outside the United States he was particularly popular in Britain and the rest of Europe.
Throughout most of his
career, Prince’s prolific inventiveness as a songwriter clashed with his
record company’s policy of releasing only a single album each year. As a
backlog of his completed but unreleased recordings piled up, he gave
songs to other performers—some of whom recorded at and for Paisley Park,
the studio and label he established in suburban Minneapolis—and even
organized ostensibly independent groups, such as the Time, to record his
material. His 1996 album Emancipation celebrated the
forthcoming end of his Warner Brothers contract, which enabled him to
release as much music as he liked on his NPG label. Later he explored
marketing his work on the Internet and through private arrangements with
retail chains as a means of circumventing the control of large record
companies. In 1999, however, he released Rave Un2 the Joy Fantastic
under the Arista label; a collaboration with Sheryl Crow, Chuck D, Ani
DiFranco, and others, the album received mixed reviews and failed to
find a large audience. Prince (who, following the formal termination of
his contract with Warner Brothers in 1999, stopped using the symbol as
his name) was inducted into the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame in 2004. That year he also released Musicology, an album that both sold well and was much praised by critics.
Prince’s later albums include Lotusflow3r (2009), a triple-disc set that included a record by Bria Valente, a protégé. In 2014 he returned to Warner Brothers, releasing Art Official Age and PlectrumElectrum, the latter of which featured backing by the female trio 3rdEyeGirl. They also appeared on HitnRun: Phase One and Phase Two (both 2015).
Prince
was found dead at his Paisley Park estate on April 21, 2016. An autopsy
later revealed that he had died from an accidental overdose of fentanyl, a powerful opioid.
http://www.nytimes.com/1986/03/30/arts/prince-s-parade-stakes-a-claim-to-popularity.html
PRINCE'S 'PARADE' STAKES A CLAIM TO POPULARITY
by JOHN ROCKWELL
March 30, 1986
Prince became a big star with the 1984 release of his first film, ''Purple Rain,'' and its attendant soundtrack LP and hit singles. But it's sometimes easy to forget that he's only 25 years old. Even though he's a practiced pop-music veteran, having released an album a year since 1978, he's still coalescing as an artist. Unlike a student or a garret-dwelling Bohemian, however, his maturation is taking place in the glare of modern celebrity publicity - an exposure likely to distort as much as it reveals.
Now we have the 1986 Prince release, ''Parade'' (Warner Bros. WB25395, LP and cassette due out tomorrow, with the CD scheduled for April 28). It comes in the wake of his guardedly received 1985 album, ''Around the World in a Day,'' which was widely criticized for a false and over-ornate 1960's psychedelic feeling. But more than a corrective for any stylistic misstep - there is plenty of 60's atmosphere in ''Parade,'' too - the new album is an attempt to recoup ground lost by the negative publicity surrounding Prince personally.
It is likely to succeed in that aim for three unrelated reasons. One, it's very good. Two, as the soundtrack for Prince's forthcoming second film, ''Under the Cherry Moon,'' it may win a wider audience in the same way as the ''Purple Rain'' soundtrack. Three, given the increasing volatility of the pop music star-making and star-breaking apparatus, it's about time for public taste to swing back in Prince's favor.
Stars today are rapidly, almost instantaneously inflated into mass phenomena, sell millions of records and appear on every magazine cover. Then, suddenly, grievous character flaws are discovered - which may or may not exist, or may exist in lesser measure than eager exposes imply -and the public mood swings into dismissiveness.
The public perception of Prince swung from a sly charmer to surly misogynist paranoid between 1984 and 1985 - just as, the year before, Michael Jackson had fallen from boy genius to androgynous eccentric. In Prince's case, a few luridly reported incidents of snooty public behavior combined with overzealous body-guards certainly fueled the backlash. He hardly helped his cause with last year's ''Around the World'' album, in which a not very convincing approximation of McCartneyesque Beatles innocence clashed egregiously with his own image of defensive arrogance.
The irony was that his entire early reputation was of an aggressive kid obsessed with explicit sexuality (typical song-themes included incest, fellatio, onanism and bondage). ''Purple Rain,'' aside from being a musically more diverse and assured album than most of his earlier efforts, also represented a softening of that image. Thus the uglier behavior that provoked last year's ''backlash'' might be seen as a reassertion of the ''real'' Prince.
But reality in this case seems considerably more interesting and complex; Prince is a talented, still-evolving musician capable of far more challenging work than a mere facile pop trickster with a dirty mind (the title of his 1980 album, and one of his best).
When he signed with Warner Bros. Records at the age of 17, Prince was a prodigiously gifted provincial loner who created most of his albums by himself in his Minneapolis studio, overdubbing all the instruments. This is a situation conducive to self-aggrandizing fantasies. And the mere presence of striking musical gifts -for composing, singing, instrumental playing and studio manipulation -can cover up an unsure, half-formed sense of artistic direction.
With Prince, sexuality seems to have been both a publicity ploy - one hardly unprecedented in the raunchy world of rock-and-roll - and a genuine reflection of his adolescent interests, or so he's said in interviews. This sexuality, coupled with a less-than-sure gift for lyric writing - his texts are often prosaic and naive -made his other themes, like God, the apocalypse and political injustice, seem hollow.
And yet the outrageousness did serve a musical purpose, aside from its positive and negative marketing aspects. As with David Bowie, with his glitter image and constant ''changes,'' Prince's arresting persona enabled his public to accept (until ''Around the World,'' at least) his restless stylistic experimentation, his often brilliant attempts to blend black and white musical influences and every manner of rock, soul and disco.
Indeed, Prince's success in overcoming musical and racial boundaries has not just directly (through his many proteges) and indirectly (through those he influenced) affected 1980's popular music. He has also done much to lessen the de facto segregation of black artists that had arisen in the early 80's on radio and in the televising of music videos.
''Under the Cherry Moon,'' Prince's second feature film and the first he's directed himself, is scheduled for release July 2, and until then, certain aspects of the lyrics will remain obscure. The new soundtrack album begins with ''Christopher Tracy's Parade'' and ends with ''Sometimes It Snows in April,'' a ballad with a lovely chromatic chorus, maudlin verses and ''sincere'' acoustic instrumentation in which Prince seems to be lamenting the death of ''Tracy'' in an overtly homoerotic manner. When one learns that Prince's character in the film is Tracy himelf, however, homoeroticism turns into narcissism, with Prince lovingly crooning his own valedictory. The film is also set on the Cote d'Azur, with a French female star, which explains the occasional French lyrics, moaning French female love-talk and accordion-flavored chanson arrangements.
Apart from the chanson flavorings, there is psychedelia here, too - most overtly in the ''Sgt. Pepper''-like opening of ''Christopher Tracy's Parade'' - as well as continued examples of Prince's tendency toward busy studio clutter overlaying a dance beat. There are also two songs co-written with his musician/ father, John L. Nelson, who once performed under the name Prince Rogers; Prince's full name is Prince Rogers Nelson, and he has apparently had a complex relationship with his father - depicted in part in ''Purple Rain.'' The two co-written songs are the most psychedelic ones, suggesting that Mr. Nelson, who also co-wrote two songs on ''Around the World,'' may have helped point Prince in that direction.
But the most striking songs here are the tougher ones, those in which Prince chooses to play up the black side of his multifaceted musical sensibility. There's the catchy ''New Position'' and the single, ''Kiss,'' with its stripped-down instrumentation and falsetto vocal. But above all there are two songs, the clear highlights of this album. ''Anotherloverholenyohead'' has an irresistible chorus, as sexy and kinetic and ingratiating as anything in ''Purple Rain.'' ''Girls and Boys'' is even better, full of delicious instrumental touches capped by a grunting, honking baritone saxophone solo.
In the future, such songs may conceivably slip into the minority of Prince's output. From the first, sentimental ballads have seemed closer to his true spirit than the uptempo dance numbers. Prince may turn out to be a latter-day Elvis in more ways than one, renouncing the sexual flamboyance that won him his first success.
No doubt he will take more false steps - there can be no experimentation without them - and no doubt he will continue to annoy people who could, in the short run, help him along. Sometimes, like Stevie Wonder, he'll put out second-rate music, and sometimes he'll seem sentimental and dopey. But as a source of vernacular musical invention and deserving pop hits, he's as good as we have. And ''Parade'' certainly succeeds in another of its intentions: it makes one eager to see the movie.
http://www.rollingstone.com/music/lists/25-greatest-prince-songs-20160421/kiss-1986-2016042125 Essential Prince Songs
The best of the Purple One's world-changing, genre-defying hits
"Kiss" (1986)
It was 1986, post-Purple Rain, when Paisley Park sound engineer David Z got a call from Prince to join him in Los Angeles. When he arrived at Hollywood's Sunset Sound studios, Z was handed a cassette-recorded demo — a verse, a chorus and a little acoustic guitar — intended for the band Mazarati. Z would later tell Mix Magazine it sounded like a Stephen Stills song. He and the band tinkered with it for a few hours, recorded a version and called it a day. When Z returned to the studio the next morning, Prince had stripped off the bass and hi-hat, added the iconic riff and recorded his own vocals. "This is too good for you guys. I'm taking it back," Z recalled Prince saying. Warner Brothers begged to differ; they said the track sounded unfinished, but Prince won the ensuing fight, and the single ultimately slingshotted to Number One.
"I Wanna Be Your Lover" (1979)
A "restrained, carefully crafted funk exercise" is how The Los Angeles Times
described Prince's first hit single in a review of the singer's L.A.
debut at the Roxy in November 1979. In retrospect, that's a cautious
assessment, but it's understandable: Prince was but 21 at the time, and
his brash, flamboyant style still hadn't fully distinguished itself from
the disco landscape. But the seeds were there. After the weak showing
of his first album, 1978's For You, Prince wrote "I Wanna Be
Your Lover" with a vengeance, intended for R&B singer Patrice
Rushen. Where one might hear "carefully crafted," the song actually
packs a boldly sculpted beat, the singer's spine-tingling falsetto and a
sleek revamping of the disco template. With "I Wanna Be Your Lover,"
Prince threw down his glittery gauntlet – from there on out, the world
had to meet his challenge.
"When You Were Mine" (1980)
According to legend, the greatest New Wave song ever
written about a bisexual love triangle came to Prince at a Florida hotel
room after he'd declined a band Disney World excursion. Or, according
to another story, it came to him in a Birmingham, Alabama hotel room
while listening to John Lennon. Either way, the second track on 1980's Dirty Mind,
is a tense and tight New-Wave-funk masterpiece that's as much Blondie
as James Brown. Cyndi Lauper covered it three years later on her
breakthrough album She's So Unusual, and would say she "loved
the way the story in the song read, and the sound was that synthesizer
sound with the stick-drum on one-three – it was a different herky-jerky
sound." Mitch Ryder and Crooked Fingers delivered stripped-down rock and
folk versions, but nobody captured the spirit of Prince's original,
which has the feel of a Roman Bacchanal taking place at CBGB's.
"Controversy" (1981)
The Moral Majority was on the rise in 1981, emboldened by
the January inauguration of Ronald Reagan. By November, a funky reaction
appeared in the form of "Controversy." With an airtight beat and
synthetic, P-Funk-esque grooves, Prince's 13th single counterbalanced
the conservative backlash against anything – music, movies, TV, books,
sex – that threatened to liberate America from the post-Seventies
doldrums. Aiming a rolled eye at all the rampant public speculation
about his preferences and politics, Prince offers more questions than
answers – "Am I black or white? Am I straight or gay?"; "Do I believe in
God? Do I believe in me?" – while potentially baiting the Jerry
Falwells of the world by reciting the Lord's Prayer. It's the sound of
Prince hijacking American morality and making it his plaything
"1999" (1982)
"1999" (1982)
When Prince recorded 1999 – the album lead by this
single – he would go all day and all night without rest, turning down
food since eating would make him sleepy. Prince's apocalyptic anthem was
released in 1982, just as Cold War tensions were reaching absolute
zero. Nuclear war, it seemed, was only a matter of when, not if. Into
that atmosphere Prince detonated a song so brazen, it stares into the
abyss and winks: "But life is just a party, and parties weren't meant to
last." The end of the world has never sounded so sexy.
"Little Red Corvette" (1983)
The chorus of Prince's first Top Ten hit suggests it's a
straightforward car song. But look beneath the hood and it's all
supercharged sex (the flipped wordplay on "Trojan horse" is especially
inspired). Despite the bedroom allusions and those more straightforward
("Girl, you got an ass like I never seen"), the song resonated on
mainstream pop radio, thanks mainly to its irresistible sing-along
chorus. The story goes that Prince came up with the lyrics while riding
in Revolution member Lisa Coleman's hot-pink Edsel, but in the spring
and summer of '83, there was nothing flashier than Prince's 'Vette.
"Delirious" (1983)
"Delirious," Prince's second Top 10 single is a loose,
funky romp updated with new sounds – the Linn drum machine (popularized
by Devo, Gary Numan and Michael Jackson) and a synthesizer for the
buzzy, addictive hook. It all walked a fine line between commercial and
experimental; between pop, R&B and New Wave. Said Matt Fink,
keyboardist in Prince's band the Revolution: "To some extent, he was
trying to make the music sound nice, something that would be pleasing to
the ear of the average person who listens to the radio, yet send a
message.
"When Doves Cry" (1984)
"When Doves Cry" (1984)
The heart of the Purple Rain soundtrack and the
biggest hit of 1984, "When Doves Cry" showed how experimental pop music
could get, making the most mainstream moment in America conform to the
avant-garde. With no bass line and Prince wailing over guitar, synth and
drum machine, "When Doves Cry" sounds as cold as a tense relationship
can feel. His engineer recalls that the artist, who played every
instrument on the track, instantly knew the impact the single would have
on music. "Nobody would have the balls to do this," the Purple One
reportedly told the engineer. "You just wait – they'll be freaking."
"Let's Go Crazy" (1984)
After "When Doves Cry" dominated pop radio throughout the
late summer and early fall of 1984, the Number One smash "Let's Go
Crazy" was as much a victory lap as an advertisement for the Purple Rain
feature film. The full-bodied funk rock flourishes and allusions to
Jimi Hendrix were made with the help of the Revolution, who briefly
became the most famous backing unit in America. "Some of the band
members came up with their own parts," engineer Susan Rogers told Billboard,
noting Matt Fink's jazzy piano solo in the middle of the track. "Matt,
knowing Prince so well and knowing what he liked, got that solo on the
third take and we kept replaying it over and over again, because it was
just great to listen to."
When the enormous success of Purple Rain generated murmurs that Prince was selling out to the AOR crowd, he told MTV in 1985, "I was brought up in a black and white world. Yes, black and white, night and day, rich and poor, black and white. I listened to all kinds of music when I was young… I always said that one day I was gonna play all kinds of music, and not be judged for the color of my skin, but the quality of my work, and hopefully that will continue."
When the enormous success of Purple Rain generated murmurs that Prince was selling out to the AOR crowd, he told MTV in 1985, "I was brought up in a black and white world. Yes, black and white, night and day, rich and poor, black and white. I listened to all kinds of music when I was young… I always said that one day I was gonna play all kinds of music, and not be judged for the color of my skin, but the quality of my work, and hopefully that will continue."
"Erotic City" (1984)
The "Let's Go Crazy" B-side was not only one of Prince's
funkiest jams but also the world's introduction to Sheila E. Carried by a
slithering bass line and sweetly simple keyboard riff, Prince
fluctuates his voice on one of his nastiest songs – though the use of
"fuck" or "funk" has been contested. In the late Nineties, when
inducting Parliament-Funkadelic into the Rock & Roll Hall of Fame,
Prince revealed that he had recorded the song immediately after seeing
the group live at the Beverley Theatre in California. "It was
frightening," Prince said. "14 people singing 'Knee Deep' in unison.
Clinton later returned the love with a cover
"Purple Rain" (1984)
"Purple Rain" (1984)
In an interview with Mojo in 2013, Stevie Nicks
revealed that Prince had originally given her a demo of "Purple Rain"
and asked her to contribute. She turned him down, saying, "Prince, I've
listened to this a hundred times, but I wouldn't know where to start.
It's a movie, it's epic." The entire genre of power balladry met its
match with "Purple Rain." The title track of Prince's signature album,
it's performed at a climactic point in the film, which lends it even
more gravitas. As if it needed it. Cradled in strings, echoes, and a
gospel chorus, then topped with a sky-splitting guitar solo, it's a
culmination of all the influences Prince had been absorbing throughout
his rise to fame in the early Eighties, from rock to pop to soul.
"I Would Die 4 U" (1984)
On "I Would Die 4 U," Prince tossed aside gender roles,
societal standards and mankind in general – "I am not a human, I am a
dove," he proclaimed – in the name of love. It didn't hurt that he
swaddled his mission statement in silk, courtesy of his Revolution
backing band, because the quickest way to the heart is often through the
hips. Neither Revolution keyboardist Dr. Fink nor Prince could play the
bass line manually, so they rigged up an interface to lock a sequencer
up to the drum machine. "We did some groundbreaking technological things
that day," Fink remembered.
"Darling Nikki" (1984)
One of the Parents Music Resource Center's "Filthy 15,"
"Darling Nikki" is supposedly the song that inspired Tipper Gore to
form the PMRC in the first place. Never released as a single, the Purple Rain
track nonetheless found itself blasting out of the stereos of fans
(including Gore's then-11-year-old daughter) when the album became a
massive hit in 1984. "I knew a girl named Nikki/I guess you could say
she was a sex fiend/I met her in a hotel lobby masturbating with a
magazine," sang Prince in the first verse, leaving nothing to the
imagination. Later, the Foo Fighters recorded their own version and
Prince wasn't too happy. "I don't like anyone covering my work," he told Entertainment Weekly in 2004. "Write your own tunes!
"Take Me With U" (1985)
"Take Me With U" (1985)
Though only the fifth biggest single off Purple Rain,
the elegant, crystalline duet with Apollonia Kotero – originally
intended for Apollonia 6's self-titled album – transcends both the album
and the decade that birthed it. From the arresting drum-solo intro
(which doubles as an equally stunning bridge) to the breathless
exchanges between the two singers ("You're sheer perfection"; "Thank
you."), the song instantly earned a place in the pantheon of classic
love jams. "I don't have an expiration date," Prince said in an
interview with The Word in 2004. "Take Me With U" is proof.
"Raspberry Beret" (1985)
When it first debuted in Spring of 1985, with Purple Rain's earth-moving electro-funk guitar-epic success mere months earlier, "Raspberry Beret" sounded way too … simple.
Prince as a part-time counter-boy seducing a customer with great
chorus, one could dig; but after Bobby Z's crazy electronic drums opened
the account, why retreat into plain acoustic guitar and simplistic
keyboard strings? Compared to its now almost-as-legendary B-side, "She's
Always in My Hair," "Raspberry Beret" felt like a drop-step. Now, it
seems obvious that it was a chance to explore more psychedelic pop
songwriting. That too became part of Prince's arsenal – the same one
that would manifest itself in the Bangles' hit "Manic Monday" – not deep
personal thoughts, but a day's diary set to music. After the seemingly
limitless aspirations of Purple Rain, it was this simpler poetry that actually proved that maybe Prince's creativity had no limits.
"Sign O' the Times" (1987)
"Sign O' the Times" (1987)
"Sign O' The Times" may be the oddest of Prince's lead
singles. The man was at the height of his commercial and critical
success, and his previous album Parade – a delirious tour into French jazz-pop that yielded the all-time funk classic "Kiss" and the cinematic debacle in Under the Cherry Moon –
had taught his audience that Prince could be wonderfully unpredictable.
Yet "Sign O' The Times" sounded like nothing he had done before. The
starkly minimalist track found him playing blues guitar over a Fairlight
synthesizer, and wailing over the world's troubles. "Man ain't happy
truly until a man truly dies," he sings. Engineer Susan Rogers, who
worked on the track along with keyboard programmer Todd Harriman, told Billboard,
"He was coming down from the headlines of his huge success and he was
aware that his audience was changing and things were changing for him.
So it may have been a little bit darker in that respect." Peaking on the
Billboard Hot 100 at Number Three and topping the Village Voice's
Pazz & Jop poll for single of the year, "Sign O' The Times" was an
affirmation that Prince's audience would follow him anywhere, no matter
where he led them.
"U Got the Look" (1987)
In his sped-up, androgynous "Camille" voice, Prince
introduces this hard-slamming funk number as the ultimate battle of the
sexes: "Boy versus girl in the World Series of love." The girl was
Sheena Easton, who recalls that he'd already finished the track before
contacting her. "He said, 'Do you want to just come in and sing some
backup vocals on the choruses?'" according to Easton. "So I went into
the studio, and because I didn't know I was singing against him... I was
all over the place – and he said he kind of liked that, so he expanded
it into a duet." The boy, of course, was Prince himself, cooing with
self-assured, flirtatious aplomb.
"I Could Never Take the Place of Your Man" (1987)
At a certain point, Prince's formidable gifts as a polymath began being taken for granted. In addition to his skills as a singer, songwriter, performer, mogul and multi-instrumentalist, though, there's one role he's never gotten enough credit for: storyteller. "I Could Never Take the Place of Your Man" was released in 1987, when Prince had cemented his place as a funk icon. But he turned his ninth album Sign O' the Times into a smorgasbord of sounds and approaches – including this short story in power-pop form whose narrative is a poignant, sharply etched portrait of a would-be lover who doesn't want to be a rebound. "Everyone has their own experience," he told the NME in 1996. "That's why we are here, to go through our experience, to learn, to go down those paths and eventually you may have gone down so many paths and learned so much that you don't have to come back again.
"Diamonds and Pearls" (1992)
A sultry ballad of a title track off Prince's 1991 album, "Diamonds and Pearls" was a Number Three hit on the Billboard
Hot 100 and, more importantly, one of the most prominent instances in
which the Purple One's new backing band, the New Power Generation,
stepped to the forefront. With NPG singer Rosie Gaines providing backing
vocal support atop seductive synthesizer, Prince sings: "If I gave you
diamonds and pearls/Would you be a happy boy or girl?" echoing the
nearly-identical lyrics he'd sung a decade earlier on 1982's
"International Lover." The album was largely panned as Prince's response
to hip-hop, but Diamonds and Pearls' title track intricately wedded the singer's love of glitz and glamour with a distinct, ever-evolving pop-R&B sensibility.
"7" (1992)
In the midst of his
rebranding as an unpronounceable symbol, the Artist Formerly Known as
Prince expanded his sonic palette on "7," tapping into tablas and
sitars, widescreen multi-tracked vocals and a sample of Lowell Fulson's
"Tramp." Of course, given his out-there status at the time, Prince may
have also been dabbling in numerology– seven represents the seeker and the searcher of truth,
though it's also entirely possible the seven he rails against are folks
at Warner Bros. Records. Was he fighting for freedom? Searching for
respect? Looking for easy access to your boudoir?
"The Most Beautiful Girl in the World" (1994)
In 1993, Prince had
changed his name to a symbol, was in a creative rut and was fighting
with Warner Bros. over creative control. He realized he didn't need help
from a major label when he released "The Most Beautiful Girl in the
World," on indie label Bellmark. Prince reportedly spent $2 million out
of his own pocket to promote the single. It turned out to be his biggest
hit in years. The gorgeous falsetto-steeped ballad has clean funk
guitar touches and keyboards, but Prince lets his gift for melody do
most of the work. It was originally written for his future wife,
choreographer, Mayte Jannell Garcia. She later recorded her own version,
"The Most Beautiful Boy in the World.
"Alphabet Street" (1988)
"Alphabet Street" (1988)
The lead single from 1988's Lovesexy shows how
Prince could create fully realized funk from bare-bones elements. Jagged
funk guitars and Levi Seacer Jr.'s bouncing bass line combine with
Prince's street-corner cool for a track that sounded absolutely bracing
in the increasingly cacophonous context of late-Eighties pop radio. An
extended breakdown featuring horns and an exhilarating rap by Prince
protégé-choreographer Cat Glover turn up the heat and extend the party.
The legacy of "Alphabet St." continued through samples – hippie-hop
collective Arrested Development's much-lauded 1992 single "Tennessee"
caused them to pay Prince $100,000 for their unauthorized repurposing
while beloved weirdos Ween used Prince's song-opening "No!" to mask the
naughty words in their breakthrough "Push The' Little Daisies."
"Thieves in the Temple" (1990)
Graffiti Bridge, the sequel to 1984's iconic Purple Rain
was Prince's final film role. But unlike its heralded predecessor, the
accompanying soundtrack would far outshine the film. "Thieves in the
Temple," a brooding, spiritual meditation on lies, rejection and
soul-searching that hit Number Six on the Billboard Hot 100, was a
last-minute addition. With a Middle Eastern flavor, almost operatic
vocals and an agitated feel, it was a decidedly new vibe for Prince. And
one in which he didn't feel comfortable residing for long. "I feel good
most of the time, and I like to express that by writing from joy," he
told Rolling Stone
in 1990. "I still do write from anger sometimes, like in 'Thieves in
the Temple.' But I don't like to. It's not a place to live."
"Cream" (1991)
Legend has it, Prince wrote "Cream" while standing in front
of a mirror, and, really, is there any doubt? Why else would he sing,
"You're so good/Baby there ain't nobody better" on this impossibly
slinky Diamonds and Pearls hit — his last Hot 100 Number One
"Black Sweat" (2006)
"Black Sweat" (2006)
Released as the lead single from his 2006 album 3121,
"Black Sweat" may be the best of Prince's late period singles.
Reminiscent of "Kiss," it's nothing but drum machine rhythms, glorious
falsetto and a noodle-y synthesizer melody that hearkens to the Ohio
Players' "Funky Worm." "I don't want to dance too hard, but this is a
groove," he sings. "I'm hot and I don't care who knows it... I've got a
job to do." "Black Sweat" may have only simmered on the charts, peaking
at Number 60 on the Hot 100, but it helped 3121
debut at the top of the album charts, and earned a handful of Grammy
nominations. More importantly, it was a timely reminder that Prince will
always have the funk.
Prince’s “The Breakdown,” a lean and sinuous ballad released this week, is the most promising thing he’s put out in a while, even without the accompanying fake viral video starring Robert De Niro. But the appearance of “The Breakdown” was overshadowed by the disappearance of The Breakup: the decades-long feud Prince has had with his former label, Warner Bros. Prince patched up the vexed relationship this week by announcing a deal that will involve both a new record and deluxe reissues of some old albums.
Prince rose to stardom on Warner Bros. His celebrity peak in the eighties was inseparable from the label, the same way that Aretha Franklin’s peak was inseparable from Atlantic. Warner Bros. is where Prince made “Purple Rain” and the albums that surrounded it: “Dirty Mind,” “Controversy,” and “1999” before, and “Around the World In a Day,” “Parade,” and “Sign O’ The Times” after. Warner was where he cooked up the “Black Album,” judged it to be devil’s music (though there were always suspicions that maybe people just didn’t hear a single), and replaced it with “Lovesexy.” Warner was where he signed up for the “Batman” soundtrack and delivered his last No. 1 single, “Batdance.”
But there were rumblings of trouble. Prince’s movies after “Purple Rain” didn’t perform well at the box office, in part because they were increasingly arty and disjointed affairs. (In “Under the Cherry Moon,” he killed off his character, the film’s protagonist; and the less that’s said about “Graffiti Bridge” the better.) Warner responded by withdrawing support for Prince’s music, not only his own albums but the records released through his imprint, Paisley Park. Prince remained a marquee talent, but in the early nineties, after reupping with Warner for big money, he finally decided that he couldn’t endure the label’s behavior any longer—the half-hearted promotion, the way that intellectual-property laws functioned or malfunctioned, depending on your perspective.
He protested by writing “Slave” on his face, famously changing his name to a squiggly glyph, and telling Rolling Stone that “If you don’t own your masters, your master owns you.” The resulting break from Warner sent him on a long, winding odyssey as the world’s top indie artist. He put out “The Most Beautiful Girl In the World” on his own NPG label, and briefly partnered with EMI for the almost preposterously incontinent triple album “Emancipation.” Relentlessly prolific and devoted to remaining that way, he released albums at a blazing pace that didn’t always serve his broader purposes, sometimes on his own (“The Rainbow Children,” 2001), sometimes with corporate help (“Rave Un2 the Joy Fantastic,” 1999, on Arista, which included the highly publicized personal support of Clive Davis, a move that got the album exactly nowhere). In 1999, Prince made his most direct and tortured statement by rerecording “1999” as “1999 (The New Master),” reproducing the song note-for-note in an attempt to do an end run around Warner’s ownership of the song.
During that period, Prince was the strangest thing imaginable: his own bootlegger (there were live sets that never would have seen the light of day under Warner), his own worst enemy (there were half-baked or unbaked experiments that would have been better served as highly prized bootlegs), and his own digital-music consultant (he pioneered various forms of distribution, from single-song purchases to subscription models, which seemed to collapse as quickly as they were established, often leaving fans in the lurch). Along the way, he occasionally, fitfully made new music of note: the single “Black Sweat” (2006), which appeared on the album “3121,” was the kind of lean, undeniable funk that had come with ease twenty years earlier. But the hits were in shorter and shorter supply. In 2009, he released three albums at once—“Lotusflo3r,” “MPLSound,” and a disc by one of his many female protégés, Bria Valentine—and sold them somewhat successfully through an exclusive partnership with Target. (He moved more than a hundred and fifty thousand copies in the first week, which landed him at No. 2 on the Billboard chart.) Yet somehow Prince seemed less relevant than ever.
“The Breakdown” isn’t formally a part of that Warner deal, but in some ways it is. The song has a sense of pace and space, which are two things that seemed to elude Prince as he rushed headlong into the uncharted waters of self-distributed music. More significant, of course, is what the new arrangement says about artists’ control of their back catalog. The deal turns in large part on the copyright recapture, or a provision that lets artists reacquire their copyrights thirty-five years after an album’s release. Prince’s first album for Warner, “For You,” was released in 1978, which means that its recapture window is open now, and other albums will quickly follow: his self-titled second release is up this year, with “Dirty Mind” to follow in 2015 and “Controversy” in 2016. It appears as though the Warner agreement will allow those albums to flow back to Prince with minimal interference, though only time will tell if the two sides can continue to work together. For now, it’s just a matter of waiting on new music, thinking about old music, and considering the oddity of a world where Prince is once again a Warner artist.
Waiting for Prince to Be Prince Again
by Ben Greenman
Prince’s “The Breakdown,” a lean and sinuous ballad released this week, is the most promising thing he’s put out in a while, even without the accompanying fake viral video starring Robert De Niro. But the appearance of “The Breakdown” was overshadowed by the disappearance of The Breakup: the decades-long feud Prince has had with his former label, Warner Bros. Prince patched up the vexed relationship this week by announcing a deal that will involve both a new record and deluxe reissues of some old albums.
Prince rose to stardom on Warner Bros. His celebrity peak in the eighties was inseparable from the label, the same way that Aretha Franklin’s peak was inseparable from Atlantic. Warner Bros. is where Prince made “Purple Rain” and the albums that surrounded it: “Dirty Mind,” “Controversy,” and “1999” before, and “Around the World In a Day,” “Parade,” and “Sign O’ The Times” after. Warner was where he cooked up the “Black Album,” judged it to be devil’s music (though there were always suspicions that maybe people just didn’t hear a single), and replaced it with “Lovesexy.” Warner was where he signed up for the “Batman” soundtrack and delivered his last No. 1 single, “Batdance.”
But there were rumblings of trouble. Prince’s movies after “Purple Rain” didn’t perform well at the box office, in part because they were increasingly arty and disjointed affairs. (In “Under the Cherry Moon,” he killed off his character, the film’s protagonist; and the less that’s said about “Graffiti Bridge” the better.) Warner responded by withdrawing support for Prince’s music, not only his own albums but the records released through his imprint, Paisley Park. Prince remained a marquee talent, but in the early nineties, after reupping with Warner for big money, he finally decided that he couldn’t endure the label’s behavior any longer—the half-hearted promotion, the way that intellectual-property laws functioned or malfunctioned, depending on your perspective.
He protested by writing “Slave” on his face, famously changing his name to a squiggly glyph, and telling Rolling Stone that “If you don’t own your masters, your master owns you.” The resulting break from Warner sent him on a long, winding odyssey as the world’s top indie artist. He put out “The Most Beautiful Girl In the World” on his own NPG label, and briefly partnered with EMI for the almost preposterously incontinent triple album “Emancipation.” Relentlessly prolific and devoted to remaining that way, he released albums at a blazing pace that didn’t always serve his broader purposes, sometimes on his own (“The Rainbow Children,” 2001), sometimes with corporate help (“Rave Un2 the Joy Fantastic,” 1999, on Arista, which included the highly publicized personal support of Clive Davis, a move that got the album exactly nowhere). In 1999, Prince made his most direct and tortured statement by rerecording “1999” as “1999 (The New Master),” reproducing the song note-for-note in an attempt to do an end run around Warner’s ownership of the song.
During that period, Prince was the strangest thing imaginable: his own bootlegger (there were live sets that never would have seen the light of day under Warner), his own worst enemy (there were half-baked or unbaked experiments that would have been better served as highly prized bootlegs), and his own digital-music consultant (he pioneered various forms of distribution, from single-song purchases to subscription models, which seemed to collapse as quickly as they were established, often leaving fans in the lurch). Along the way, he occasionally, fitfully made new music of note: the single “Black Sweat” (2006), which appeared on the album “3121,” was the kind of lean, undeniable funk that had come with ease twenty years earlier. But the hits were in shorter and shorter supply. In 2009, he released three albums at once—“Lotusflo3r,” “MPLSound,” and a disc by one of his many female protégés, Bria Valentine—and sold them somewhat successfully through an exclusive partnership with Target. (He moved more than a hundred and fifty thousand copies in the first week, which landed him at No. 2 on the Billboard chart.) Yet somehow Prince seemed less relevant than ever.
Still,
he was—he is—Prince, and counting him out always seemed like a mistake.
In recent years, he’s started to make noise about making noise once
again. He put together an all-female band, 3rd Eye Girl, that kicked up a
garage-rock ruckus, releasing songs like “Screwdriver.” His appearance
on the Fox sitcom “The New Girl” directly after the Super Bowl included a
snippet of a song called “Fallinlove2nite,” which was then released
with a vocal contribution by the “New Girl” star and indie-folk singer
Zooey Deschanel. He announced an imminent album called “Plectrum
Electrum,” though details on when it would appear and what it would
include were a little fuzzy. And then, this week, he fired up the time
machine and returned to Warner Bros. According to the deal, whose
financial terms were not announced, Prince will release a new album with
the label and also coöperate in a campaign to put out deluxe and
expanded versions of his most famous albums, starting with a
thirtieth-anniversary edition of “Purple Rain” this year.
“The Breakdown” isn’t formally a part of that Warner deal, but in some ways it is. The song has a sense of pace and space, which are two things that seemed to elude Prince as he rushed headlong into the uncharted waters of self-distributed music. More significant, of course, is what the new arrangement says about artists’ control of their back catalog. The deal turns in large part on the copyright recapture, or a provision that lets artists reacquire their copyrights thirty-five years after an album’s release. Prince’s first album for Warner, “For You,” was released in 1978, which means that its recapture window is open now, and other albums will quickly follow: his self-titled second release is up this year, with “Dirty Mind” to follow in 2015 and “Controversy” in 2016. It appears as though the Warner agreement will allow those albums to flow back to Prince with minimal interference, though only time will tell if the two sides can continue to work together. For now, it’s just a matter of waiting on new music, thinking about old music, and considering the oddity of a world where Prince is once again a Warner artist.