Publication: The Nashville Banner [US]
Date: August 22, 1997
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Title: "Potrait of the Artist"
Written By: Michael Gray

I was dreaming when I wrote this, so forgive me if it goes astray. . . .

Prince signed his contract with Warner Bros. 20 years ago this summer, becoming, as The Artist himself would put it, a slave of record-company politics.I was 8 at the time, and my first recollection of Prince was hearing I Wanna Be Your Lover a few years later on Detroit's around-the-clock funk station,WJLB.

I had no idea what "I wanna be your lover, I wanna be your mother and sister,too" meant then.

And I suspect I still won't fully understand the wordplay when The Artistsings it tonight at the Nashville Arena.

Wondering aloud "Am I black or white, am I straight or gay" on the titletrack of his 1981 Controversy album only intensified his wonderfully weirdambiguity. But his gender-bending images, as well as his multiracial mystique,felt like a sociocultural breakthrough to a Baptist kid living in the suburbs. Here was Prince exploring emotions most of us keep hidden.

I of course found out later there really is nothing new under the sun, andthat much of Prince's artifice had been employed in mix-and-match ways longbefore his purple reign.

Sly Stone warned me even before I was born, in Everyday People, that Icouldn't figure out what "bag" he was in.

Coming of age in the '80s, though, it was Prince's music that opened a newworld to me. Getting into Prince was the first time I ever wanted to discoverthe artist behind the songs. That desire is what sparked my ongoing passion for and interest in American music, the legacy of black American music specifically.

No one comes out of the womb wondering if Robert Johnson actually sold hissoul to the devil. Most of us get to the vintage stuff, be it Robert Johnson,Billie Holiday or whomever, through the back door.

Prince was my back door. His funk, his rock, his psychedelia, his falsettoballads and his jazzy breakdowns were my gateway to James Brown, Mr. Hendrix,P-Funk, Sly, Miles and Stevie Wonder, who in turn, introduced me to theirancestors.

It's no wonder Prince is the biggest figure in contemporary music whom fansat opposite ends of the pop music spectrum admit to liking.Prince was more than a music catalyst, though -- some of my clearestrecollections of junior high and high school life center around him.

Those moments are not limited to his album releases and live shows, although I would venture to say he has played more concerts in the funkified city of Detroit than he has anywhere else, including his hometown of Minneapolis.

My first job was spinning records at a roller rink. Like a lot of 15-year-oldboys, I occasionally pushed my luck with authority. So, one day I played Erotic City, the Purple One's most notorious b-side -- as I recall, just to see if Icould get away with it.

I didn't.

The owner of the skating rink yanked the needle off the groove mid-waythrough the naughty song. Worse: he cracked the vinyl single in half whileeveryone in the rink stared at the two of us in the DJ booth.

I got the last laugh, though -- he had to shell out another two bucks for thevery same 45 rpm, because Let's Go Crazy, the hottest song in the land, was on the flip side of the smashed-up single.

It wasn't long before the rink owner wised up and just bought the whole darn Purple Rain album, which leads with Let's Go Crazy. Having the complete recordon-hand made breaks a cinch. I would just play both sides of the album while Iate my dinner and socialized with a co-worker named Collin (who looked kind oflike Prince).

The customers dug Purple Rain so much that I never heard one complaint that Iwas overplaying the album. Of course, if the boss was around, I usually skipped over Darling Nikki, the song that sparked Tipper Gore to form the Parents Music Resource Center (PMRC).

Tipper's outcry brings to mind my own dear mom's reaction to Prince.

When she listened to the Dirty Mind album she asked if she heard the words right. I think we all did.

What made her more uncomfortable than the straight come-ons, however, were the songs in which Prince intertwined sex and salvation.

The heaven-and-earthiness split was nothing new, of course. Remember, there's nothing new under the sun. I recall hearing Al Green sing "Belle, it's you I want, but Him that I need" around the house long before I ever heard of Prince. But Prince's fantasies proved to be too much for mom.

Even this week, when I told her the exciting news that Prince was coming to town, all she could do was sigh and say something like, "Oh, that Prince, what's he up to these days? Does he still have the word 'slave' written all over his face? Do you still like him?"

I guess she figured I had given up on him a few years ago when I sold off my stash of Prince collectibles -- picture sleeves, imports, bootlegs, etc. -- to help pay for a wedding ring.

Even though I've entered a new phase of my life, baby and all, I occasionally look to the sky for purple rain.

I haven't seen Prince live since he came through Atlanta on the (quite good) Lovesexy tour almost 10 years ago.

Since then, I swear Graffiti Bridge is the worst movie I've ever paid to see.

I think some of Prince's newer songs lack the charm of his best sex vamps, substituting blunt, witless profanity.

I felt a little alienated when he changed his name to an unpronounceable symbol. And even though His Royal Badness is still on a creative roll, his albums no longer arrive as major events in my life.

But -- sorry mom -- yes, I'm still into him.

And I suspect I'll see some purple rain tonight when Prince, I mean The Artist, tears apart his perfect pop songs and turns them into organic, captivating jams.

Oops, out of time, but tonight I'm gonna party like it's 1999.

When he comes in out of the purple rain,Michael Graymay be reached at 726-8915 or by e-mail: mgray@NashvilleBanner.com

AN APPRECIATION Who: The Artist formerly known as The Artist Formerly Known As Prince and formerly known as just plain old Prince. What: Jam of the Year world tour, in advance of his next scheduled release, a four-CD live collection called Crystal Ball. Where: 8 tonight at the Nashville Arena, 501 Broadway. At press time tickets at $ 39 and $ 51 (reserved) remained. Ticketmaster: 255-9600