Publication: St. Petersburg Times [US]
Date: September 2, 1990
Section: Floridian
Page Number(S): 1F
Length: 864 Words
Title: "Prince's ‘Graffiti' Is True Art"
Written By: Eric Snider

This is a crucial time for Prince. His once-firm grasp on the Artist-of-the-'80s mantle started to slide late in the decade with the overwrought Lovesexy and the slapped-together "soundtrack" for Batman. The latter propped up the Minneapolis titan's sagging commercial fortunes he'd experienced sluggish album sales and concert halls at less than capacity but Batman's quick ascension up the charts owed lots to the biggest blockbuster movie in several years. (The album also vanished rather quickly.) So, it's a new decade, Prince. What've you got for us? Plenty. Graffiti Bridge (Paisley Park), a soundtrack to the upcoming film of the same name, is a masterful, magnetic work that re-establishes Prince as pop's towering creative force. If the album is not a huge hit, then, to lift a Pacino line from And Justice For All, "There's something reeeeally wrong, here " Graffiti Bridge is a career summation. After Prince's genre-hopping on Around the World in a Day (neo-psychedelic sludge) and Lovesexy (busy funk), the new album covers it all, fully developing the yin and yang of Prince's far-flung aesthetic: black/white, masculine/feminine, icon/inno-vator, high-tech/low-down. It has the sweep of the '87 double-set Sign O' the Times, but is more focused, with less filler. Prince pingpongs between the bouncy pop 'n' roll of the opening Can't Stop This Feeling I Got, the crunching black-rock of Elephants and Flowers, the thunder-funk of New Power Generation, the warped blues of The Question of U (replete with Santana-esque guitar solo), the gospel-meets-jazz flavor of Still Would Stand All Time (choir included) and lots more. Yet the 17 tracks, which clock in at 68 minutes plus, are more cohesive than eclectic, which is no mean feat. Prince wears this broad range of styles like a comfy paisley shirt. Each song is kinetic and natural. There's not a single throwaway. Prince also uses Graffiti to bridge two roles: the solitary studio alchemist who can create pop pearls with just his bad self and multitrack gear, and the auteur who lords over a stable of talent, stretching the muse via his Paisley Park label. About half the album features Prince by his lonesome, with spot help, while the remainder is a collective effort that employs the talents of such Paisley Parkers as the Time, funk maestro George Clinton, soul maven Mavis Staples and young newcomer Tevin Campbell. (On three hyper-funky Time tracks, Prince does not even perform.) It's the best of both worlds. Prince long has been tops in pop at making high-tech, meticulously layered tracks breathe with elasticity and swing (see 1999). But he also feeds off the collaborative process (so long as he's in control), molding other artists to his personal vision while capturing their essence. As a result, Staples' smokey, southern-soul voice struts over one of Prince's patented funk-rock backdrops on Melody Cool. Hot, indeed. Speaking of hot, Prince again extols his quirky, seemingly dichotomous philosophy, a mishmash of ideas that combines the flesh and the spirit. All told, the album tilts to the sexy side not with the frankness of Dirty Mind or Darling Nikki, but enough to earn one of those new "Parental Advisory/Explicit Lyrics" labels. On We Can Funk, a Prince/Clinton duet, the sexual innuendo is clear. Love Machine, the steamiest track, finds Morris Day of the Time trading seductive chat with a female foil named Elisa. Prince has eased up on the preachiness that burdened some of his earlier work, although he's still capable of hazy, post-hip pie pronouncements: "Lay down your funky weapons / And join us on the floor / Makin' love and music's / The only things worth fighting for," he sings on New Power Generation. All told, Graffiti Bridge is Prince's most buoyant, fun effort in several years. Carefree groove-a-thons by the Time the funky frat-rock of Shake , the James Brown-styled get-down, Release It balance some of Prince's weightier themes. Although the beat reigns supreme, Graffiti Bridge shows off a slew of Prince's inspired sonic embellishments proving, again, that he plays by no one's rules but his own. The album is rich with riffs. On the simmering power ballad Joy in Repetition, Prince laces in light, jazzy guitar chords and later builds to crescendo with Hendrix-like fury. He caps off The Question of U with a baroque-tinged synthesized harpsichord solo. A couple of muted harmonica breaks color the captivating first single, Thieves in the Temple, which recalls the smoldering urgency of When Doves Cry. Even when Prince's popularity began to sag, he never capitulated to the superstar syndrome, as did the man he most often is compared to: Michael Jackson. Prince is one member of rock royalty unafraid to fall on his face now and then. Let's consider the late '80s a creative slump. And even though Batman rang as a bit cynical, all is forgiven with the release of Graffiti Bridge.