Category Archives: 1987

A Few Words on Public Enemy, 30 Black History Months In

It’s almost too fitting that the anniversary of Public Enemy’s debut album should fall during Black History Month. For people like me–’90s kids from majority-white towns where “Black History” meant half a class period on George Washington Carver every February–Public Enemy was our connection to an invisible history of Black radical thought: from Marcus Garvey and W.E.B. Du Bois to Malcolm X and Huey P. Newton. Their music opened me up to ideas I didn’t even know existed; ideas that, in the wilderness of White (supremacist) America, were truly life-altering. Discovering P.E. as a teenager was an experience as radicalizing as discovering punk rock; more so, in fact, because they represented a threat to racial hegemony that even the likes of the Clash did not. They were insurrection in musical form, with a visceral cut-and-paste aesthetic that continues to sound cutting-edge to this day.

None of that, of course, was the point of Public Enemy. More than any other rap group of their era, P.E. was music by and for Black people; the radicalized white kids like me were collateral damage. But I can only speak from my experience, as someone for whom Fear of a Black Planet and, especially, It Takes a Nation of Millions to Hold Us Back were an introduction to an entirely new kind of politics, a new way of seeing the world. If nothing else, I have Public Enemy to thank for introducing me to a rich canon of African American literature and art: to Stokely Carmichael, Angela Davis, James Baldwin, and Toni Morrison, and for that matter to James Brown, John Coltrane, and Gil Scott-Heron. Without that initial spark of interest I felt the first time I heard “Bring the Noise,” I might have missed out on a whole universe of ideas that have made me a definitively better person.

Granted, not everything about the group has aged well. Public Enemy may have exposed millions of listeners like myself to Black Power and the Panthers, but they also regurgitated a lot of less progressive influences: the anti-Semitism and homophobia of Louis Farrakhan, most famously, along with a host of conspiracy theories and pseudo-history that contemporary listeners are likely to file away as Hotep bullshit. Their politics are more akin to a firebrand anarchist zine than a well-reasoned essay–which is probably why they appealed more to my teenage self than they do to me as an adult. But there will always be a place for firebrands, and P.E. were as incendiary as they came: it was what made us sit up and listen in the first place. And in early 2017–a time when racism in America is arguably the worst it’s been in my lifetime–their fire might just be needed more than ever.

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Filed under 1980's, 1987, 1988, conscious rap, James Brown, John Coltrane, Malcolm X, Public Enemy, rap

Prince Protege Special: “Honeymoon Express” by Wendy & Lisa

Wendy Melvoin and Lisa Coleman knew each other their entire childhood in LA,with both their fathers being musicians in the group of iconic session musicians known as The Wrecking Crew.  These musical lives led up to Coleman becoming the successor to Prince’s original keyboard player Gayle Chapman in 1980. In fact,it was Coleman who recommended Wendy to succeed original Revolution guitarist Dez Dickerson when he left before the making of the Purple Rain album. After two years of success with Prince,Wendy & Lisa left the Revolution,signed with Columbia and began their career as a duo.

Wendy and Lisa were significant because,similar to Jam & Lewis,the duo were never anyone Prince could be a puppet master with. They were genuine proteges who not only had enormous talent on their own,but also contributed new musical ideas for Prince. Their 1987 self titled debut featured songs that featured the production and co-writing of fellow Revolution alumni Bobby Z as well as Wendy’s brother,the late Johnathan Melvoin of Smashing Pumpkins fame. The first song on this album made an immediate impact on me personally. Its entitled “Honeymoon Express”.

Wendy starts out playing a thick and liquid rhythm guitar over an ethereal synth sound. A brittle,low ascending slap bass line. This is accompanied by a bassier sounding synth that plays for all the bars of refrain-along with a beat that kicks up high on the snare every few beats or so. Just before the choruses,the song goes up a chord just before the chorus-with the ethereal synthesizer mixed up a bit higher. The bridge features an electronic marimba type solo before the choral sequence of the song repeats to fade-with the synth marimba playing right along side it all the way.

Co written with Johnathan and Susannah Melvoin (‘ne of The Family,now fDeluxe), “Honeymoon Express” is a very densely composed,jazzy funk number. The rhythm is in as much an unusual time signature as what Dave Brubeck did in the “cool jazz” genre,also featuring some ultra funky bass/guitar interaction. The chord changes on the song are actually very singable. That being said,they are also somewhat outside American pop conventions of the late 80’s. And probably are part of why this album wasn’t a major success in the US. Still,this is Wendy & Lisa at some of their jazz funk finest as a duo.

 

 

 

 

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Anatomy of THE Groove: “Need You Tonight” by Inxs

Inxs were an Australian band formed by Andrew,Jon and Tim Farriss  at the end of the 70’s. The band also included bass player Gary Beers and the late (and charismatic) lead singer Michael Hutchence. From their debut album in 1980 onward.the bands sound grew from post punk/ska/guitar based new wave into a stripped down,dancefloor friendly funk rock sound. This began to happen in a big way with their 1984 album The Swing and its Nile Rodgers produced hit “Original Sin”. This continued onward with their horn fueled smash “What You Need”  from the follow up album Listen Like Thieves.

The first time I ever heard Inxs was during 1987-1988. This was that period where energetic and cutting edge funk was not only getting back on the radio,but also making its influence felt again on the rock scene. This was often captured in the VHS collections of music videos from MTV my father would bring home for me to watch. A couple were Inxs videos of hits coming from their latest album at the time Kick. One of them was a song that has stuck with me so much,it remains among my favorite songs of them-especially from the funkier side of their musical personality. Its called “Need You Tonight”.

A heavy bass/snare drum kick starts off the song before Hutchence whispers “come over here”. That’s when the first rhythm guitar kicks in. This plays three quick chords,then a descending vamp. After that the pumping bass groove and lower,post disco/boogie rhythm guitar kicks on. These two compliment each other with a burst of reverbed keyboard as an accent. As Hutchence and the Farriss’s trade off call and response lead and backup vocals on the choruses,two rocky guitar chords. This represents the refrain/chorus pattern of the song. There is only strategic break of complete silence before entering into the last chorus of the song before it ends up Hutchence,without backup sings “your one of my kind”.

“Need You Tonight” is a song that I’ll always admire. Having learned so much about music,yet also knowing so little,still have my doubts as to whether people would consider this song to have any particular connection to disco/funk whatsoever. That being said, it does seem to be the basis of this song. From the multiple rhythm guitars playing call and response with Hutchence’s sexually charged vocals,it has the vibe of how a late 80’s pop /rock equivalent to the Rolling Stone’s might deal with contemporary black music of their time. That makes it a great personal standout of that ever important 1987 year for funk.

 

 

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Filed under 1987, Inxs

Anatomy of THE Groove: “Fishnet” by Morris Day

Morris Day has a long and storied history with the Minneapolis sound. Again,blogging partner Zach Hoskins pulled this all together so well in his overview of The Time. He was originally in the local band Grand Central with Prince and Andre Cymone. After that,he was a member of a band called Enterprise. During the early 80’s,he was considered to be part of Prince’s spin off band The Time-at which time he went from being a drummer to being a lead singer for the group. Needless to say his persona as the flashy,pimped out OG helped give The Time their performance personality.

After The Time originally broke up in 1984 (they’d reunite 7 years later),Day began a solo career starting in 1985 with his debut album The Color Of Success.  A couple of years later he released his follow up sophomore solo album entitled The Color Of Success. Had this album for years on vinyl but never listened to it much,until earlier this year. It was also around that time that I learned it didn’t do too well commercially. Still,there were a handful of songs on the album that still stood out as highly funkified moments. One of them was actually a hit entitled “Fishnet”.

A heavy,kicking drum shuffle starts out the song. A mix of synthesized and electric slap bass segue right into the main chorus of the song. That consists of a high pitched orchestral synths along with lower synth horns. On the refrains of the song,those are stripped out for what sounds like a low organ style rumble. This is accompanied by a piano playing a bouncing chromatic walk down up with Day’s vocals. There’s a heavy rock guitar solo that comes in as kind of a bridge on the middle chorus. The synth brass,Day himself and the piano all improvise in and out of that chorus until the song ends on applause.

“Fishnet” is one of my favorite Morris Day solo jams. Part of the reasoning for that is how it spans two eras of funky music. At the end of the day,its a Minneapolis take on the DC go go sound. And then cut down to a 6 minute song rather than the sometimes hour long go go jams. On the other hand,it has a jazzy vibe that kid of goes along with some of the jazz/hip-hop styled new jack swing songs that would become huge in a couple of years.Still,its synth brass and phat (often punishing) funky rhythms keep it going along with the most cutting edge Minneapolis funk of 1987.

 

 

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Filed under 1987, drums, go-go funk, Minneapolis Sound, Morris Day, rock guitar, slap bass, synth bass, synth brass, synthesizer

Anatomy of THE Groove: “Fake” by Alexander O’Neal

Alexander O’Neal’s importance to the Minneapolis music scene of the 1980’s probably hasn’t been as documented as it should be. The Mississippi native migrated to the twin cities by age 20. During that time,he became a member of two bands who’d eventually come together through the late Prince Rogers Nelson to become The Time: Enterprise (of whom Morris Day was a member) and Flyte Tyme (first home of Jimmy Jam,Terry Lewis and Monte Moir). O’Neal was to have been The Time’s original lead singer. He and Prince didn’t seem to have gotten along. So he was dropped in favor of Morris Day.

What O’Neal did do,with the help of Jam & Lewis’s production,was to conceptualize the Minneapolis sound on a solo career he launched in 1985. Cherrelle’s 1985 album (on which O’Neal appeared as a duet partner on “Saturday Love”) and his own sophomore album Hearsay two years later both followed loose concepts revolving around romantic issues of the mid/late 80’s such as artifice and honesty. As far as O’Neal’s album went,one of the best examples of how this concept dovetailed so well into the funkiest of his music came with the 1987 UK hit single “Fake”.

A pounding,cymbal heavy,percussive drum machine starts out the song. A synth piano scale down gets right into the rest of the song. Another main rhythmic feature of the song comes in-a thick,brittle (and possibly double tracked) synth bass part. Over this is a sizzling synth string orchestration. A higher bass tone accents this on O’Neal’s vocal parts. On the brief bridges before the choruses,big melodic synth brass plays call and response to O’Neal’s vocals. The chorus and refrain both maintain the same similar backing even to the fade out of the song itself.

Friend Henrique Hopkins described this as being a type of funk that’s “punishing”. And that description fits extremely well. This is hardcore,cutting edge industrial funk of the highest order-similar to Janet Jackson’s “Nasty” only with an even thicker funk bump to it. Lyrically it goes well with the albums concept as O’Neal is attracted to a lady who does little more than put on series physical airs just to get attention. The song on the other hand makes no apologies for how funky it is. It manages to be stripped down and sonically dense all at the same time. And its probably my very favorite piece of funk from O’Neal.

 

 

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Filed under 1987, Alexander O'Neal, drum machines, Industrial funk, Jimmy Jam & Terry Lewis, Minneapolis, Minneapolis Sound, string synthesizer, synth bass, synth brass, synth funk, The Time

Prince 1958-2016: “If I Was Your Girlfriend” (1987)

Prince was an artist whose musical conceptualization helped me personally to view sexuality as an act of love,rather than as a profane taboo. Considering his classic soul music struggle between spiritual and carnal pleasures,that may be hard for some people to believe. But as far as that aspect of Prince’s talent,it really began to reach its peak in the mid/late 80’s. A period that I feel represents Prince’s creative peak as a musician. Prince was also on the cusp of becoming a 30 something during this period as well. This represented another stage in Prince’s emotional maturity.

Sign O The Times was the Prince album that illustrated this stage of his maturity most fully. Because of the time frame in which I heard it,the 1987 album reminds me of a long period during the 90’s that wasn’t paying attention to Prince’s new music. There is one memory from a rainy afternoon in 1994 when I was driving home with my parents from Strawberries Records. They had the radio on and this Prince song came on with a very deep and strange sound at the beginning. They shut it off before I knew what it was. When I finally heard Sign O The Times,I realized that song was “If I Was Your Girlfriend”.

That “strange sound” I mentioned begins the song over a three note LINN drum hit. Actually sounds like revving an amp’d up electric guitar at its very lowest notes. Then a thick slap bass pop breaks into the refrain of the song. Its a very slow beat accompanied by a trumpet like synth brass solo while foreboding layers of synth strings play along in the back round. On the refrains,Prince sings in a sped up falsetto along with mainly the drum and bass line of the song. Toward the end of the song,the bass line gets somewhat more intricate as Prince raps frantically with some operatic orchestration before the song stops.

Its taken me too long to realize that this is one of Prince true funk classics. The slap bass pretty much carries the entire song-one that TLC would also cover around the first time I first hear…well the intro anyway. Lyrically,this song finds Prince exploring a sexual double standard. His asking a lover if she’d undress in front of him if they were anything but lovers. Even saying by the end “we don’t have to make babies to make love/we don’t have to make love to have an orgasm”. Prince taking on romantic insecurity in this funky musical way was a major step in his evolution as a human being.

 

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Filed under 'Sign 'O The Times', 1987, Funk, guitar, Linn Drum, Minneapolis, Minneapolis Sound, Prince, sexual revolution, slap bass, synth brass, synthesizers

Prince Summer: “The Ballad Of Dorothy Parker” (1987)

During the mid/late 80’s,Prince was refashioning the MPLS sound into something far beyond its stripped down drum machine/synth brass based new wave style groove it started out as being.His music was becoming far more orchestral and jazzier-showcasing a more live instrumental approach and more improvisational horn charts and solos. In 1986 however, Prince was still close enough to his signature sound to expand on it with some of his newer musical ideas. This came to fruition on the unreleased album Dream Factory,which evolved into Sign O The Times.

When I first started collecting Prince CD’s,Sign O The Times was on my bucket list of albums in terms of introductions to his music. It was actually the last on this list I ended up getting. It was a 2 CD set that I actually had to listen to several times in order to gauge what each song meant to me. Looking back on it now,the album has o conceptual unity as its cobbled together from several unreleased sessions. Yet all the songs sound like they belong together. One of a handful of album tracks that really stood out for me on this particular,the top of that list would be “The Ballad Of Dorothy Parker”.

A drum kick on the Linn LM-1 starts out the song. A steady Linn drum track,with a number of call and response Afro Latin percussion accents and claps,remains the main rhythm of the entire song-save for another drum kick before another refrain. The bass line is an intricate,snaky movement sewing the song together. Prince provides a number of unique synth leads here. One is a high,pitch bent one that sounds almost out of tune. The other is a similarly toned line if a bit lower-both improvising on the series of melodies throughout the song until it ends on the same theme on which it began.

Especially since this same man sang “its time for jazz to die” in 1982,this song shows how much Prince had integrated jazz improvisation and Latin drum patterns into his one man band approach by the mid 80’s. Some of the unusual,improvised modulations of the synthesizers on this sound have a similarity to Joni Mitchell’s music,of which Prince was a major fan growing up. He even name drops her as an element in the story told by the lyrics-a rye musing on Prince being played by a cocktail waitress. In terms of his multi instrumental jazz/funk approach,this is among my very favorite Prince songs.

 

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Filed under 'Sign 'O The Times', 1987, jazz funk, Joni Mitchell, Linn Drum, Minneapolis, Minneapolis Sound, Prince, slap bass, synthesizers

Prince Summer: “Housequake” (1987)

Sometimes,there are songs discussed on this Anatomy of THE Groove feature that have a little extra excitement in terms of me writing about them. Many of these are songs often discussed between myself and blog co-founder Henrique Hopkins on Facebook. So many of his ideas come across in them. Today is such an occasion. Its taken a long time for me to actually locate this particular content. As with any song from Prince,it has its share of rich history all on its own. And as usual before getting into my rundown of the song,wanted to share some of that history with you.

Following the release of his second motion picture Under The Cherry Moon,Prince embarked on a year long recording session throughout 1986 and early 1987. These songs were originally intended for three separate album projects. Seems Warner Bros weren’t keen on Prince’s prolific nature forcing his albums to actually compete with each other on the charts. One of these projects was to be released under a pseudonym known as Camille-sung in a sped up voice.. It was a very funky album,a handful of whose tracks appeared on 1987’s Sign O The Times. The one I’m talking about today is called “Housequake”.

A loud,halting screech beings the song. Then the drum intro kicks in-a nine beat drum machine rhythm with the four notes after the third in a faster cluster. A live drum and a breezy synth horns come in over the call and response vocals. Then the refrain takes over for most of the rest of the song. Its the basic live drum beat with a mid range rhythm guitar playing the changes. There is also an electric and synth bass both playing the same six note line. The horns of Eric Leeds and Atlanta Bliss come in to accent on the second part. Eric solos on the bridge before playing a jazzy unison with Bliss on the jam’s outro.

The key point that Henrique and I discussed so much is that if James Brown had continued innovating his 70’s era funk sound with 1980’s instrumental innovations,it would likely have sounded somewhat like “Housequake”. The horns are there,and the opening drum break was even used to open a song by Stevie Wonder in a concert during the same era. Still the production style still has Prince’s touches of instrumental subtlety. So even though the instrumentation and lyrical references to “green eggs and ham” are totally JB derived, Prince still managed to maintain his own touches on this driving funk groove.

 

 

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Filed under 'Sign 'O The Times', 1987, Atlanta Bliss, call and response, drum machines, drums, Eric Leeds, Funk, Funk Bass, James Brown, Prince, Saxophone, synth bass, synthesizers, trumpet, Warner Bros.

Prince (Protégé) Summer: The Graffiti Bridge Era

Graffiti Bridge

When Dystopian Dance Party recorded our Prince spinoff podcast earlier this summer, we talked about how the glory days of the Prince protégé were pretty much over after 1987. As we’ve seen in this series so far, the half-life for Prince’s side projects seemed to have been about three albums, max; after that, either he started to lose interest, or his charges began to bristle under their lack of creative control. There was also the practical matter of Prince’s commercial decline in the latter half of the decade. While 1987’s Sign “O” the Times and 1988‘s Lovesexy were both incredibly strong albums, they fell short of sales expectations; The Black Album, meanwhile, was infamously scrapped at the eleventh hour before release. Prince still recorded for other artists in the late 1980s, but not with the same svengali-like approach he’d taken in the earlier part of the decade; his few attempts at traditional “protégé” albums, such as the aforementioned follow-up records by Sheila E. and Jill Jones, the Time‘s Corporate World, and a solo debut for dancer Cat Glover, remained in the proverbial vault.

By 1990, however, Prince was ready to try his hand once again at the idolmaking game. The hit soundtrack for 1989’s Batman had returned him to a state of financial solvency, and his new film and soundtrack project, Graffiti Bridge, was an attempt to aim for the mainstream–a sequel to Purple Rain, at that! So, just as he had with his feature debut, Prince filled the film with a stable of peripheral talent: including the breakout stars from the previous movie, Morris Day and the Time. In addition, much like early configurations of Purple Rain‘s soundtrack, about half of the accompanying album was devoted to tracks from the film’s guest stars. The problem was that Graffiti Bridge wasn’t Purple Rain, and Prince’s 1990-era side projects were a far cry from their 1984 equivalents.

tevincampbell

Graffiti Bridge isn’t all bad, of course–or at least, the album isn’t. As mentioned before, the Time’s tracks are basically a less satisfying appetizer for their own Pandemonium; and the best of Prince’s tracks are, conspicuously, the ones he pilfered from earlier (and better) unreleased projects. But “Round and Round” by then-13-year-old Tevin Campbell was one of Prince’s most successful attempts at writing and producing in a New Jack Swing mode, not to mention one of his most radio-friendly songs in years: the second-biggest single on the album, in fact, placing at Number 12 on the Billboard Hot 100 and Number 3 on the R&B charts. It is, admittedly, something of a stretch to call Tevin Campbell a Prince “protégé”–he was actually discovered by legendary producer Quincy Jones–but Prince did write and produce several songs for his 1993 sophomore album I’m Ready, including the original version of the classic Gold Experience ballad “Shhh.” Another track from these sessions, “The P,” thankfully didn’t make it to wax; bootleg versions are in circulation, however, for any masochists out there with a sick desire to hear Tevin Campbell rap about genitals.

Another decent protégé from the Graffiti Bridge era, if not an especially remarkable one, was Elisa Fiorillo: a former Star Search contestant who can be heard on the Time’s track “Love Machine” (though, confusingly, in the movie her part is lip-synced by Ingrid Chavez). Fiorillo’s own Paisley Park debut, I Am, was released the day before Graffiti Bridge, with production handled mostly by Prince’s longtime engineer David “Z.” Rivkin. Prince contributed several songs, however, as well as production and instrumental duties for the gauzy, sensual single “Oooh This I Need.” After parting ways with Prince, Fiorillo worked through the ’90s primarily as a backing singer, and later joined the New Power Generation full-time in 2009; earlier this year, she appeared alongside numerous other former Prince associates for Sheila E.’s tribute at the BET Awards.

Less auspiciously, Graffiti Bridge also saw the first and last appearance on a Prince project by Robin Power. Having made appearances on Soul Train and in several early hip-hop videos, here she raps–if that’s what you want to call it–on her singularly grating feature “Number One,” which ended up in the film but (mercifully) not on the album. Prince gets a lot of flak for his early NPG rappers T.C. Ellis and (especially) Tony M.; trust me, though, next to Robin Power, they’re basically Biggie and Pac. But we also can’t place all the blame on her: the beat, which aims for Public Enemy‘s Bomb Squad but comes closer to nails on a chalkboard, is all Prince.

MCDGRBR EC001

GRAFFITI BRIDGE, Ingrid Chavez, 1990, (c) Warner Brothers

In the end, though, probably the most significant Graffiti Bridge protégé was another one who made the film but not the album: none other than the movie’s co-star, Ingrid Chavez. Chavez is a fascinating figure, if only for her important role in the Prince mythos; it was, by all accounts, a spiritually- and sexually-charged encounter with her in late 1987 that led to Prince scrapping The Black Album in favor of the more beatific Lovesexy, where she appears on a few spoken-word interludes. Indeed, Chavez seems to have lived her life in the late ’80s not unlike Aura, the character she played in the Graffiti Bridge film: wandering wherever the wind took her, causing spiritual epiphanies in every man who crossed her path (or, in the case of an earlier encounter with Lenny Kravitz, co-writing “Justify My Love” for Madonna). Though she doesn’t appear on the album, she clearly inspired the Graffiti Bridge project as a whole; the movie often feels like a thinly-veiled allegory for her and Prince’s brief but intense relationship, with an extra layer of Christ metaphors for good measure.

Prince worked with Chavez on her own album, May 19, 1992, from late 1987 until early 1991, with Prince providing musical accompaniments to Chavez’s spoken-word poetry. A conflict with parent label Warner Bros. eventually caused Prince to leave the project; his contributions remained on the record, however, notably the single “Heaven Must Be Near.” Chavez then presumably turned into a white feather and blew away in the wind (nah, just kidding, she collaborated with Ryuichi Sakamoto and former Japan vocalist David Sylvian, then retired quietly from the music business to have a family).

Released 26 years ago this weekend, the Graffiti Bridge album is basically the definition of a a mixed bag: its songs range from great to embarrassing, from catchy and commercial to boundary-pushing and experimental. The same can also be said of Prince’s supporting artists from this period (though, again, the less said about Robin Power, the better). One thing that can’t be denied, however, is that the quality of Prince’s side projects in 1990 had taken a distinct step down from that of their mid-’80s predecessors. Unfortunately, however, we haven’t come close to reaching rock bottom: next Saturday–deep breath–we’re talking about Carmen Electra.

I guess I’ll see you then. In the meantime, keep checking out Andre’s work throughout the week, and come see more of my stuff on Dystopian Dance Party and dance / music / sex / romance.

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Filed under 1980's, 1987, 1988, 1990s, Paisley Park, Prince, Uncategorized

Prince (Protégé) Summer: Jill Jones

jilljones2

Much like the subjects of my guest post from last week, Jill Jones is a somewhat lesser-known figure in the Prince protégé pantheon. Whether you know her by name or not, though, you’ve definitely heard her sing: Jill’s is the first voice on Prince’s 1982 crossover smash “1999.” And, again like the Family, her self-titled 1987 album on Paisley Park is required listening for anyone with a taste for “purple music” from the latter half of the decade.

Though she only released one album under Prince’s tutelage, Jill Jones spent a surprisingly long time in his camp. The pair first met in early 1980, when both were on tour with Rick James–Prince as the opening act, Jones as a backing singer for Teena Marie. By 1982 she had graduated to singing with Prince, making memorable appearances alongside Lisa Coleman in the music videos for the 1999 album (I believe I’ve said elsewhere on the Internet that the sight of Jill pouting in her police hat and camisole was at least 70% responsible for my sexual awakening as a preteen), and was one of his handful of off-and-on girlfriends. Her solo career was supposed to take off in 1984, when Prince wrote a song for her to sing in his breakout feature film Purple Rain; it ended up on the cutting room floor, however, along with the majority of the rest of her scenes.

It was only after another three years of waiting that Jill finally got her time in the sun. Released in May 1987, Jill Jones was comprised largely of re-recorded versions of some of Prince’s best outtakes. “G-Spot” was originally intended for Vanity 6; “All Day, All Night” used a live backing track recorded in 1984 by the Revolution; “Baby, You’re a Trip” dated all the way back to the 1999 sessions, as did lead single “Mia Bocca.” But with its lush string arrangement by Clare Fischer–another Family connection–“Mia Bocca” is really the closing bookend to Prince’s glamorous Under the Cherry Moon era, and it’s a hell of a way to go out. Even on its own, it’s worth the album’s price of admission.

Jill_Jones,_cover_album,_US,_1987Or at least, that’s what I think; but it seems the record-buying public didn’t agree, as Jill Jones failed to chart on the Billboard Top 100 for Pop, Black, and Dance music. Jones stuck around Paisley Park for a few more years, recording some tracks for an abortive second album with Prince and appearing in 1990’s Graffiti Bridge film. Perhaps understandably, that was the last time they worked together. After spending most of the ’90s struggling to make a name for herself, Jill released a second solo album in 2001, then retired from the music industry. Earlier this year, however, she emerged from her long hiatus with another, dance-flavored album called I Am (presumably, we can expect her fourth record sometime around 2030).

Like many of Prince’s spinoff records from the late ’80s, Jill Jones is unfortunately difficult to get a hold of these days; it is, however, available on YouTube, and until such time as an official reissue occurs, that’s where I recommend checking it out. Jill Jones’ album may have been a victim of Paisley Park’s financial decline–and Jones herself a victim of Prince’s caprice when it comes to his side projects– but for fans of Prince and the Minneapolis Sound in general, it’s a buried gem.

Next weekend, we’ll pick up where Jill and Prince left off with the multiple protégés of 1990’s Graffiti Bridge. In the meantime, as always, keep it tuned to Andresmusictalk, and check out my other stuff on Dystopian Dance Party and dance / music / sex / romance.

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Filed under 1987, backup singers, Claire Fischer, Lisa Coleman, Minneapolis, Minneapolis Sound, Prince, Prince & The Revolution, Purple Rain, Under The Cherry Moon, Vanity