Tag: Prince

Let’s Go Crazy

April 27, 2020 / DB

Last Tuesday CBS aired a very important program. Officially titled Let’s Go Crazy: The Grammy Salute to Prince, the show as a tribute to the late Prince, who died exactly four years ago from its initial air date. The show got such a great reaction that CBS re-aired it Saturday night.

I recorded the Tuesday broadcast and watched it Thursday afternoon. It was outstanding! These tribute shows can often go off the rails, become mawkish, or serve more as vehicles for the performers than the honoree. None of that was the case Tuesday.

I admit, some of the artists I was not familiar with. But most I was. And most did an outstanding job. I thought I would rank the performances, in reverse order.

Tier 1 – Meh
Juanes, “1999” – I had no idea who this guy was. I will admit his voice sounded almost uncannily like how Prince sang this song. But the fact I had no idea who he was, and he was remarkably faithful to the original didn’t do much for me.

Chris Martin and Susanna Hoffs, “Manic Monday” – Man, I do not know what they were thinking here. Why was Chris Martin’s presence needed? If all the Bangles don’t want to get together to perform, Susanna would have been just fine on her own. And why did they take a bouncy, infectious song and turn it into a slow ballad? The biggest disappointment of the night.

H.E.R., “The Beautiful Ones” – Another artist I had no knowledge of. She has a lovely voice. It just was not fit for this song. That was most obvious in the back half of the song, when Prince screamed the lines, “What’s it gonna be, baby? Do you want him? Or do you want me? ‘Cuz I want you!” H.E.R. couldn’t capture a fraction of the passion from the original, which kind of defeats the point of the song.

Beck, “Raspberry Beret” – Beck could not be more opposite of Prince. Where Prince was graceful, athletic, and smooth, Beck is all awkward shrugs and jolts of movement. And where Prince was passionate and expressive, Beck is mellow and flat. It’s hard to mess up one of the greatest pop songs ever, and Beck did a reasonable job. But it was the visuals of this performance that struck me as off.

Miguel, “I Would Die 4 U” – I know this guy’s name but don’t know his music. Opposite of Beck: a fine visual performance but nothing special about the vocals.

Common and Sheila E, “Sign O’ the Times” – I like Common, positive dude. This felt like forcing him into the broadcast in a spot that he just didn’t fit.

St. Vincent, “Controversy” – This was a perfect matching of artist to song that fell flat for me. St. Vincent is one of the most obvious direct links between a modern artist back to Prince, with her pushing of sexual boundaries, her image, and her willingness to make pop music that can be uncomfortable. She just seemed a little tense to me. A looser performance may have ranked higher.

Tier 2 – Flawed But Enjoyable
H.E.R. and Gary Clark, Jr., “Let’s Go Crazy” – Again, you can’t really go wrong with some of these songs. I don’t know if this pairing should have been the first of the night. I think you put a more known artist in this spot. Or take a newer artist and pair them with someone from the ‘80s.

Princess, “Delirious” – How many of you knew Maya Rudolph had a Prince cover band? I did, but I admit I’ve only seen them perform once before. This was light-hearted and fun, but not real memorable.

Sheila E., “America,” “Free” and “The Glamorous Life” – Sheila E. put this event together, so she rightly had a major role in the night, serving as musical director and leading the backing band on most songs. That meant she was on stage a lot. With that in mind, I’m not sure she needed a three-song set. Just sing “The Glamorous Life” and be done. A fine performance that was simply too long.

Tier 3 – The Highlights
Foo Fighters, “Darling Nikki” – Remember when this song got Tripper Gore all worked up? And now it’s being played on network TV in prime time without editing any lyrics. We’ve come a long way in 35 years. Good to have a rock artist involved in the evening.

Usher, “Little Red Corvette,” “When Doves Cry” and “Kiss” – This performance was recorded during the Grammy award show, and it was absolutely great. I’m not sure what Usher is doing these days but he can still put on a show. This was, again though, a performance that showed just how great Prince was. Usher was dancing, singing, putting on a hell of a show. Basically doing what Prince would have done. But his vocal performance was about 80–85% of what Prince would have done. Prince was not just a phenomenal performer, not just one of the greatest musicians ever, not just a great singer. He did all of that, at the same time, and he sang in all kinds of different registers, from low and smokey to falsetto to screaming. And he always sounded great. Usher could not quite match what Prince’s vocals would have been.

Gary Clark, Jr., “The Cross” – One of my favorite Prince deep cuts, this was a good pairing of performer and song. You needed someone who could shred a guitar solo to handle this, and Clark did a fine job.

The Time, “Jungle Love,” Cool” and “the Bird” – In some ways the highlight of the night was seeing the original Time – including Jimmy Jam and Terry Lewis who Prince had kicked out before the Purple Rain/Ice Cream Castles cycle – on stage, doing their Time thing: the Morris and Jerome mirror act., the entire band dancing in sync like in their Purple Rain performances. And appearing to be having a hell of a good time while doing it. Prince’s history with the Time was full of complications, ill will, and controversy. It’s been good to hear those guys all speak highly of Prince since his death. It would have been easy to be bitter about how his ego may have cost them bigger careers than they had.

John Legend, “Nothing Compares 2 U” – I’m not a huge John Legend fan, but he sang the hell out of this song.

Earth, Wind, & Fire, “Adore” – The absolute surprise of the night. I never expected to see Earth Wind and Fire on stage at a Prince tribute. I wasn’t sure how many of them were still alive. (Founding member Maurice White died four years ago.) But Philip Bailey is still around, still hitting those high notes, and just nailed this song. I was literally hooting and clapping during this song it was so unexpected.

Mavis Staples and the Revolution, “Purple Rain” – Prince’s signature song, one of the greatest songs ever, played by the Revolution. You could have put just about anyone on vocals and this would have been a thrill. Staples obviously offered a very different interpretation of the song than Prince did. But sung from her perspective, it really resonated with me.

The Revolution sounded great. What floored me, though, was seeing Wendy Melvoin play Prince’s guitar solo. She was certainly capable, she’s a magnificent player and had her share of solos on the Revolution’s songs. But this seems like Prince’s ultimate solo. With them time-editing other songs I wondered if they would skip over it. It was kind of emotional for me to see her play it. I’d rather her play it than anyone else but it was still jarring to me.

In all, a fine way to memorialize Prince. I know the timing on these events can be odd, but I wondered why Janelle Monáe was not included. She’s one of the few current artists that Prince had a direct relationship with and she’s likely the current artist that carries on his spirit better than anyone else. I wonder if she wasn’t available, wasn’t interested, or wasn’t asked. A minor quibble with an entertaining program.

Purple Links

April 26, 2016 / DB

Man, were there some great Prince-related articles over the past week. Here are some of my favorites.

Joe Posnanski used Prince’s death as an excuse to look back on his epic Super Bowl halftime show. Although the Colts won that night, my biggest memories of the evening are Prince’s performance and how cold it was that night when I took the trash out after the game.[1] What a crappy game.

His Kingdom

Consequence of Sound looked back at, well, A Brief History of Prince Being Prince.

Jonah Keri wrote about the broader meaning of Prince, and entertainers like him, for our culture. He has some great videos embedded, including the legendary Rock ’n Roll Hall of Fame performance from 2004. I had never seen the performance of “Nothing Compares 2 U” with Mary J. Blige before.

Why icons like Prince dominate our attention and imagination

Two pieces from Questlove. First, his story from awhile back about roller skating with Prince.

Next, his proper eulogy for the man.

In This Life, You’re on Your Own

Another story about an evening with Prince.

Purple Tuesday

A couple years back I posted the video from the night that “Purple Rain” was performed for the first time, and from which much of the album version was pulled, during that 36 hours or so it was online. Anil Dash breaks the song down to its component parts. Thanks to John N. for sending this my way.

I Know Times Are Changing

This here is fine reporting. Go find someone that doesn’t, at first glance, seem to have a connection with Prince and learn that indeed there is one.

‘Defying description’: ZZ Top’s Billy Gibbons on Prince the ‘sensational’ guitarist

Finally, Rob Harvilla had fine advice for anyone who was a fan.

Mourn Prince However You Can, For As Long As You Want

The windchill was something insane like –20. ↩

April 22, 2016 / DB

I’ve always secretly made fun of those folks who get all emotional when a public figure dies. No matter what effect their work had on your life, I didn’t understand how an actor or singer or whoever dying would cause you to show public grief.

I think I understand those people a little more today.

Yesterday sadness for Prince’s death slowly grew within me. I spun his tunes, I listened to the two SiriusXM stations that had his songs on repeat and were taking calls from fans, I watched MTV – which had his videos in constant rotation – and VH1 – which was showing Purple Rain on repeat – and checked in on the news channels to catch parts of their pieces. I read tribute pieces online and watched the handful of videos of his live performances that he could not get removed from YouTube. All that slowly combined to make me pretty damn sad by the end of the night. At one point I was reading tributes that other celebrities had posted. While scrolling through those, “The Cross” came on my iPad and it was almost too much. Watching the performance of “Purple Rain” at about 12:10 AM with some bourbon in my system was not a dry-eyed moment.

I thought about how silly that was. Yes, I was sad that a man who meant so much to me had died suddenly. But why? I had not bought an album of his in nearly 20 years. The last album of his that I put in high rotation was *Diamonds and Pearls* in 1991. The majority of my best memories of Prince came from 30 years ago.[1] Those songs, videos, and movies are not disappearing with his death. I’ve been listening to them again all morning.

So why do we get sad when a person we never knew dies?

I guess a chunk of that sadness is actually our way of saying thanks. Regardless of your view of what happens to people when they die, I think being sad is a way of sending out signals that you appreciate what that person did when they were alive to contribute to your happiness.

There’s probably some kind of yearning for our youth wrapped up in it, too. But since I hate that kind of discussion, I’ll skip it.

Our own, personal grief certainly gets wrapped up in it as well. I never saw Prince live. I was supposed to back in early 1998, but came down with the worst case of the flu I’ve ever had and sold my ticket. I was so sick I went to my mom and step-dad’s house for two days and she brought me Advil and Sprite and chicken noodle soup while I laid on the couch moaning. I was thinking of that last night, and remembered that concert was about six weeks before my mom died. I’m sad my step-dad is gone, too.

You can’t help but pull these moments that are specific to your life into this larger, universal moment of sadness.

I was comforted that, through Facebook, texts, emails, and regular conversations yesterday, I saw that so many of my friends were having similar feelings. Well, I’m not happy so many of my friends were sad, but you know what I mean.

I’ve never felt that way I do now after someone I admired, but was not related to, died. In a weird way, I guess there’s no better tribute than that.

And now, “Sometimes It Snows In April” just came on and I think I need another minute to myself.

I used to cry for Tracy because I wanted to see him again

The ones that stood out the strongest: seeing the “1999” video for the first time; hearing “When Doves Cry” and “Let’s Go Crazy” constantly in the summer of 1984; the first time I heard “Raspberry Beret” and, like so many people, not appreciating its genius immediately; watching the “Kiss” video with my classic rock loving uncle, who hated every second of it. ↩

Damn It All

April 21, 2016 / DB

I was minutes away from posting an album review when the news about Prince dying hit.

What a terrible day.

I admired Bowie, but he was hardly vital to me growing up. When he died I wondered what aging rocker death would have the biggest impact on me. It would be sad when McCartney and Ringo died. Plant and Page, Daltry and Townsend would cause reflection. But those guys were all of my parents’ generation. And, honestly, based on what was played in my house when I was growing up, I will be much sadder when Stevie Wonder dies.

But for my generation, and the music of our youth, Prince is it. For me, he was above Michael, Bruce, and the other giants of the 80s. He was the synthesis of all the different kinds of music my parents played, put into a very modern context. He proved that white kids in the suburbs could like “black music” and rock at the same time, especially when it was all blended together.

I’m going to sit on that album review for awhile. And go listen to a lot of Prince.

RIP

Purple Greatness

January 27, 2015 / DB

A combo piece this morning, taking one entry from my up-coming review of January books and combining it with the movie on which it focused.

Let’s Go Crazy – Alan Light
I shared the excerpt from this a few weeks back, and the book finally hit the library two weeks ago. I snatched it up and raced through it in about a day.

It was awesome.

It details the creative process surrounding both the movie and album Purple Rain. Despite being one of my all-time favorite albums, I did not know a ton about its background. So while much of what Light shares is 30-year-old news, it was mostly new to me. And even some of the standard material is presented in a fresh way. Light was, and is, a fan, so the book isn’t terribly critical, although he doesn’t duck from how Prince’s output has been uneven since the late 1980s. And he pokes fun at the movie, which is poorly acted in many parts, has a number of awfully misogynistic moments, and has not aged well at all in several segments.

He is a fan writing for fans. Which, when it comes to this kind of book, is exactly what you want.

There are all kinds of nuggets in the book. My three favorites:
1) Chris Rock, who is a huge fan, comparing Purple Rain to Thriller. (I’m paraphrasing), “Every song on Purple Rain could have been a single. There was no “Baby Be Mine” on it.” Truth.
2) Stevie Nicks wrote her song “Stand Back” based on how she felt after hearing “Little Red Corvette.” She even had Prince in the studio with her and he, apparently, helped her hammer out parts of it. As a token of thanks, he sent the music for “Purple Rain” to her and asked if she would help him write lyrics for it. She said she knew immediately it was destined to be a classic, felt overwhelmed, and sent it back saying she wasn’t worthy of being offered a chance to help write for it.
3) I have no idea how I did not know this, but Vanity was supposed to play the lead female role. But a difference of opinion and a desire to carve out her own career caused her to leave the cast not long before filming was set to begin. Thus Apollonia got cast and Vanity 6 became Apollonia 6. I always figured that was just some cheekiness, calling the bands such similar names.

After reading the book, it seemed appropriate to watch the movie again. I remember watching the edited for TV version on VH1 when M. was a baby. But I have no idea when I last watched the entire, uncut version. Sometime in the early 1990s, if not farther back than that. So last night, instead of watching basketball or finishing up season two of The Americans, I watched Purple Rain.

Light’s analysis of the movie is pretty solid. When there is music being performed on the screen, the flick is astounding. Right music, right moment, etc. It’s tough to argue that the scenes with The Revolution and The Time aren’t the best live music moments in movie history. The opening segment, where the various characters and the setting are introduced over “Let’s Go Crazy” and “Jungle Love” are perfect. The scenes with Mazarati and Apollonia 6 aren’t as powerful or good, but they still fit into the overall vibe the movie offers. And the last 20 or so minutes, when The Time absolutely destroy the First Avenue club with “The Bird” and then The Revolution counter with “Purple Rain,” “I Would Die 4 U,” and “Baby I’m A Star,”…well if you actually saw those four songs performed in a row, live, in 1984, your brain might just have exploded.

Looking at the acting, Prince does ok. Some moments are awkward and forced, but he has a reasonable number of decent scenes. Apollonia seems overmatched by the moment. A number of secondary characters also have a B-movie quality about them. But Morris Day and Wendy Melvoin are the highlights. Day nearly steals the show with his enlightened, comic pimp act. And Melvoin offers a powerful and mature performance for a woman who was 19 and had never acted before. She doesn’t have many lines, but they do serve as a nice counter to the Kid’s ego and selfishness.

Despite the dated feel to the fashion, it is still a visually stunning movie. The multi-ethnic crowd at First Avenue, in their glammed-up, New Wave via Minneapolis clothes and makeup, sum up the moment while still somehow feeling futuristic.

One of the big tragedies of the movie is that The Time did not survive it. I remember their album Ice Cream Castle picking up steam just as Purple Rain was running out of fuel in early 1985. But by that point Morris Day had left the group to launch his solo career and attempt to make his own movies. He never had great solo success, and The Time only had minor hits when they reformed in the early 90s. However, as Light points out, perhaps they were not destined for their own greatness. There are persistent rumors that Prince both wrote and played most of the music on Ice Cream Castles. The Time looked great live in the movie, but could they have kept the momentum from the movie going when Prince was more interested in doing his own thing?

Which leads us to the gigantic take-away from reading the book and watching the movie: has anyone had a stretch as good as Prince had from 1982–1986? In that span he recorded three albums[1], made a massive movie, had one of the highest grossing tours of all-time, wrote and/or produced songs for The Time, The Bangles, Chaka Khan, Sheila E., Vanity 6, Apollonia 6, Sheena Easton, and Stevie Nicks. His Minneapolis sound, when tweaked by Jimmy Jam and Terry Lewis, became the dominant pop music sound into the early 90s. And while his multi-ethnic/no-ethnic worldview seemed utopian at the time, it foreshadowed an age two decades in the future when racial lines became tenuous as more-and-more Americans could check multiple boxes for ethnicity on a census form.

The Beatles in 1963 likely had a bigger overall cultural impact. But I don’t know that anyone has ever done what Prince did during that run.

Purple Rain the album remains a masterpiece 31 years after its release. “Purple Rain” the song is as epic today as it was in the climactic scene of the movie and as the closing track on the album. Purple Rain the movie? A little corny, cringe-inducing at times, and far from a great film. But it remains a visually arresting, aurally mind-blowing document of pop music’s biggest year and an artist at his absolute prime.

1999, a double album by the way, Purple Rain, only one of the biggest albums of the decade, and Around The World In A Day. ↩

I’m Excited, Don’t Know Why

December 11, 2014 / DB

So one morning last week I’m on my way home after dropping the girls off at St. P’s. I’m flipping through my stored channels on SirriusXM and not having much luck finding something to listen to.

Until I hit channel 8, the 80s station. There, I hear that familiar church organ dirge, followed by some of the most recognizable first words of a song/album in rock history,

Dearly beloved, we are gathered here today to get through this thing called life…

My hand shot to the volume knob and cranked it up. “Let’s Go Crazy” is a fine way to get the blood pumping on a cold, dreary December morn.

But I realized something as I listened. I never really understood the lyrics to the second half of the chorus. And by understand, I mean I had no idea what Prince was singing.

We all have songs where we have misheard/misunderstood lyrics for years. But to flat out not know what someone is singing for 30 years? When I’ve owned the song on vinyl, cassette, CD, and digital formats? When the song was played every 25 minutes on pop radio for three months, and the video aired every hour on MTV over the same stretch? When the song was featured in the opening scene of one of the iconic movies of the 1980s? When it is performed by one of my favorite all-time artists, on one of my favorite all-time albums?

Seriously, I’ve heard “Let’s Go Crazy” well over 1,000 times, I bet. And somehow I was never able to decipher what Prince was singing after:

Let’s go crazy
Let’s get nuts…

So when I got home I raced to the Google, typed in the song title, and went to the first lyrics site that popped up. And now, after 30 years of mumbling along with the next two lines, I know to sing:

Look for the purple banana
’Til they put us in the truck, let’s go

I’m not sure that was worth the wait.

In addition, I had no idea what he was singing in the final verse, right after this part:

Dr. Everything Gonna Be Alright
Will make everything go wrong

Turns out, it was another perfectly reasonable lyric I should have grasped as a 13-year-old.

Pills and thrills and daffodils will kill
Hang tough children

How did I never figure out what Prince was saying? I have three defenses.

First, Prince doesn’t exactly offer those words up clearly. In the purple banana part, he kind of stutters and adds a delay, so they blend in with the music a bit. And in the pills and thrills section, he kind of Elvises it up.

Second, the first cassette copy I owned of Purple Rain was from the Columbia House record club. Which, many of you may recall, often did not pay to license the lyrics to the albums they sold. So while your friends who went to Musicland or Sam Goody to buy their music got the long, fold-out inserts with full lyrics and liner notes, those of us who relied on Columbia House got a short cover with the album art on one side, and blank paper on the other.

Finally, purple banana? Seriously?!?! How am I supposed to guess that phrase when trying to figure out what he was saying? It was easier to just fake it.

Anyway, now I know. So one 30 year mystery has been solved. And people say I don’t do much during the day!

The Original “Purple Rain”

July 9, 2014 / DB

This is utterly astounding.

Brother in music and lover of all things Prince Mike A. sent me the link below. If you were ever into Prince, I highly suggest clicking on it and chalking up the next 15 minutes to enjoying pure awesomeness.

What will you see if you click? The 1983 performance of “Purple Rain,” from which most of the album version of the song was pulled. I always knew that the song was mostly live, but I had no idea that there was video of the actual performance.

That alone would be amazing. But whoever posted the video has all kinds of insights into the performance which they helpfully, and unobtrusively, share during the song.

Seriously, go watch it.

Purple Rain Live

Appropriate that it surfaces now, as we’re right in the middle of the 30th anniversary of both the movie and the album¹. Last night, while drifting off to sleep, I listed to the Sound Opinions podcast on which they discussed the album and invited former Revolution members Lisa Coleman and Wendy Melvoin to share their memories of how they joined the band and how the album came together. Bits of most of the songs on the albums are played during the show. I couldn’t help but think that exactly 30 years ago, I was likely lying in my bed, trying to fall asleep while listening to ZZ99 or Q-104 and no doubt heard “When Doves Cry” at some point. Crazy.

The album came out June 25, 1984. The movie opened a month later on July 27. ↩

You Say You Want A Leader

September 30, 2004 / DB

I just spent the last hour getting my ass kicked by some GRE math review. I understand the point of these sample sections is to beat you up a little so you’re ready for the real test, but when they actually do more to confuse you than help you relearn the concepts, I begin to wonder if I’ve spent my money wisely on materials.
In the time between when S. left for work and a sister-in-law showed up to give me a few hours to study, M. and I watched the last half hour of Purple Rain. If you haven’t noticed, the movie is on VH1 constantly these days, no doubt in an attempt to capitalize on the release of the 20th anniversary DVD and cheapos like me who don’t want to buy it. I don’t think M. is quite ready for some of the scenes, even in the edited version, but it’s never too early to introduce her to some of the seminal music of my life. She was notably impressed by the majesty of the title track. She played along with me as I made the hand signs during “I Would Die 4 U”. She really liked “Baby I’m a Star”, mostly because of the “Baby, baby, baby, baby” lines.
She did have some concerns about the acting and fashion, though. I explained to her everyone looked so strange because the movie was made two decades ago. I pointed out she’ll be a college junior (Or sophomore if she got my academic genes) in two decades. Also, the movie took place in Minnesota, not exactly a hotbed of couture. I think she understood. As for the lack of acting prowess, I proposed that some movies get their strength not from the performances of the actors, but from the mood, the feel, and especially in Purple Rain’s case, the power of the music. Sounds this good can make up for a multitude of sins. She argued, however, that a movie should be judged for the merits of all its elements, not just on the strength of one or two aspects. This is clearly a conversation she and I are going to continue for many years. As long as she gets the music, I’ll be happy.
And I bet a few of you thought this was going to be a political post after seeing the subject line, no?
I added a post last night that doesn’t appear to be available for viewing. I’ll check it out and hopefully get that added again this evening.