Category Archives: Warner Bros.

Welcome 2 the Dawn: Grading the Purple Rain Deluxe Edition against My Own Expectations

Prince_PurpleRain_LP_SetUp.indd

Hard as it is to believe, it’s been over three years since NPG Records and Warner Bros. announced the new, expanded Purple Rain remaster–the first, one would expect, of several such projects in the years to come. One of the first pieces I wrote for my own blog, Dystopian Dance Party, was a list of demands humble requests for bonus tracks I wanted to see included in the package: a post I was able to revive here on Andresmusictalk the second time the reissue was announced, last fall. Now, six months later, we finally have a track list, and the two configurations of the album–Deluxe and “Deluxe Expanded”–are available for preorder, to be released on June 23. So, I thought, in the spirit of reissues, why not recycle this three-year-old content once again–you know, for old time’s sake? Let’s take a look at my predictions from April 2014, and see whether or not I really had my finger on the pulse of Paisley Park:

14. Dez Dickerson’s “Modernaire”

13. Vanity 6’s Version of “Sex Shooter

12. Prince’s Versions of Songs from the Time’s Ice Cream Castle

Well, I can’t say I started strong. For better or worse, the new Purple Rain contains nothing but music by Prince and the Revolution: no side projects or protégé material, even the stuff that appeared in the movie. Really, though, I can’t say I’m surprised; and as much as I love the Time and Vanity 6, I wouldn’t want something of theirs to make the cut over a proper Prince track from the Vault. Let’s save these for the expanded reissues of Ice Cream Castle and Apollonia 6 (those are coming, right?).

11. “Extraloveable”

Now this one I am actually a little disappointed by, though again not surprised–both because of the reasons I noted in my original article (it was already released, albeit in bowldlerized/Andy Allo-ized form; it’s mad rapey), and because it’s more of a transitional track between 1999 and Purple Rain: there’s still a chance that it will come out with the inevitable 1999 reissue. I still want to hear it without that awful tape chew in the circulating recordings, but now just isn’t the time.

10. “All Day, All Night”/The Dance Electric”

All right, now we’re cooking! I’m giving myself this one because I hedged my bets, and we are in fact getting Prince’s version of André Cymone’s “The Dance Electric”; and who knows, maybe there are plans in the future to release the 1984 birthday concert where “All Day, All Night” was initially recorded. Would I have liked to have gotten both? Of course; frankly, I’d have loved for this thing to be eight discs long. But if we only had to get one, as a studio track, “Dance Electric” is the logical choice.

9. “When Doves Cry” with Bass

The first real missed opportunity–though more for historical than for musical significance. We all know (assuming Susan Rogers told the truth, and/or Prince didn’t destroy it) that the bass line for “When Doves Cry” exists somewhere in the Vault. So, especially with a full third disc on the “Deluxe Expanded” edition devoted to alternate single mixes, would it have killed them to let us hear it? It’s frustrating, because I totally get the geeky completionist impulse behind that much-derided disc of alternate edits–but if NPG is going to cater to geeky completionists, why not go whole hog?

8. The Complete August 3, 1983 First Avenue Concert

Word on the street is, I was actually kind of right on this. You might recall that an earlier announcement of the set promised “two incredible albums of previously unreleased Prince music and two complete concert films,” but the final product contains only one DVD; based on rumors (and a leaked clip of the performance in previously-unseen high fidelity), it seems the Revolution’s live debut is still in the pipeline, but wasn’t ready in time for the June release date. A little disappointing, but whatever; as long as we get it eventually, I’m happy.

7. Prince and the Revolution: Live

Now here’s the concert we actually are getting in June: the Revolution’s March 1985 date in Syracuse, New York, previously released on VHS as Prince and the Revolution: Live. There’s been some complaints in the fan community about this–it isn’t the best Purple Rain show, it’s already out there, etc. Personally, though, I’m happy to have it cleaned up for a proper digital release; I, for one, haven’t seen it, because who wants to watch a VHS in 2017? Frankly, I barely want to watch DVDs in 2017, but I still look forward to experiencing this show in glorious SD.

6. “Electric Intercourse”

Another point for me–and as an added bonus, we can already hear it! When I wrote my original post, I thought “Electric Intercourse” was a long shot–this was back when it was widely assumed that the song’s “studio version” was just the 1983 First Avenue performance dressed up with a few overdubs. Turns out that it’s actually an entirely different recording, and…well, to be honest, I found it slightly disappointing. But even below-average material from Purple Rain-era Prince is decidedly above-average compared to the output of mere mortals, and I can’t overstate the thrill of finally being able to hear the song.

5. The Extended Version of “Computer Blue”

Really, I’m not even going to pat my back for this one: the extended cut of “Computer Blue” (a.k.a. the “Hallway Speech” version) was a shoo-in for any Purple Rain reissue worth its salt; if it hadn’t made the track list, there would be riots outside Paisley Park even as we speak. But I’m still glad to have it, if only because now a whole new audience can hear the whole, brilliant psychodrama. Hearing this for the first time was one of those moments that transformed me from a reasonably normal person into a hardcore Prince fan: it’s thrilling to think how many others are about to get the same opportunity.

4. “We Can Fuck” (“We Can Funk”)

Now this, on the other hand, is a genuine surprise; and, to be honest, I’m pretty skeptical that the owner of the world’s most famous swear jar would have approved of this song–one that even a pre-Jehovah’s Witness Prince saw fit to censor for 1990’s Graffiti Bridge–being released in its unexpurgated form. Not that I’m complaining, of course: I’ve been dying to hear a nice-sounding, complete take of “We Can Fuck” basically since I became aware of its existence. And if Prince, wherever he is, has a problem with it, I’ll gladly toss a few bucks in his ghostly swear jar for the privilege.

3. “Possessed”

Not quite as exciting as “We Can Fuck,” but still welcome: “Possessed” is a jam, one of those bootleg tracks that totally blew my mind the first time I heard it. There’s been some speculation that the version included on the set is different from either of the takes currently in circulation, but I’m not even going to set my expectations that high; I’ll be satisfied with just a good copy of the one I’ve been listening to for 10 years. Anything more, I’ll consider to be a pleasant surprise.

2. “Erotic City (‘make love not war Erotic City come alive’)”

Another no-brainer–but then, you’d think keeping one of the most beloved 12″ singles in the history of the format accessible for purchase would have been a “no-brainer,” too. Yet here we are, in 2017, still awaiting the first official appearance of the extended (and far, far superior) “Erotic City” on CD and digital music services. If I sound bitter, it’s because I am; but at least Warner/NPG is finally making amends. 33 years late is still better than never.

1. Something We’ve Never Even Heard About

Now this is the one I’m most surprised, and pleased, to be wrong about. Unlike most of the other tracks on this list, I have no idea what “Katrina’s Paper Dolls” sounds like. I have no idea what “Love and Sex” sounds like (though I’ve heard good things). I did hear “Velvet Kitty Cat” when it leaked recently, and…meh, but I’ll take it. The fact that the curators of the new Purple Rain collection took care to select some songs that weren’t even in wide circulation among bootleg traders–and promoted them as such!–suggests that the future is pretty bright when it comes to music from Prince’s Vault. Of course, the deluxe Purple Rain isn’t perfect: “Wednesday” and “Traffic Jam” are missing, as are the 30-minute “I Would Die 4 U” and the longer edit of “17 Days.” But when I look at what we are getting, it’s hard for me to complain. Three years ago, I fully expected to be disappointed by whatever Warner Bros. came out with; now, I’m actually excited. Sometimes it’s good to be wrong.

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Filed under Andre Cymone, Apollonia, NPG Records, Prince, Prince & The Revolution, The Time, Vanity, Warner Bros., When Doves Cry

After 4Ever: Why We’re Still Waiting for a Definitive Prince Compilation

4ever

Earlier this week, Warner Bros. and NPG Records released the first of what will surely be many posthumous releases by PrincePrince 4Ever, a 40-track compilation of hit singles and a smattering of deep cuts from the most universally well-regarded 15 years of his career. For most longtime fans, this wouldn’t have been big news–except that 4Ever also included the first official release of music from Prince’s legendary “Vault” since his sudden passing in April: a long-bootlegged outtake from the 1999 sessions called “Moonbeam Levels.” I already wrote extensively on “Moonbeam Levels” and its place on 4Ever for my chronological Prince blog, dance / music / sex / romance; you can also read Andre’s take on the release in this post from last month. What I’m interested in talking about today is 4Ever itself: its function in Prince’s discography, and the gap that still remains to be filled by a truly definitive compilation for one of the most significant pop artists of our time.

Prince The Hits-B-Sides

For an artist as prolific and popular as he was, there have been surprisingly few compilations of Prince’s work. The first–and, for my money, still the best–was 1993’s The Hits, released both as two separate single-disc volumes and as a package including a third bonus disc, titled The B-SidesThe Hits/The B-Sides is a somewhat idiosyncratic collection: produced with, at best, reluctant cooperation from the artist (he supplied background notes for many of the tracks, which were incorporated into the official liner notes by his former tour manager and R&B music historian, Alan Leeds), the discs are presented thematically rather than chronologically.

The Hits 1 is the poppier disc: opening with Prince’s most recognizable hit, 1984‘s “When Doves Cry,” followed immediately by “Pop Life” from 1985‘s Around the World in a Daythen backtracking for a run through the more radio-friendly tracks from 1978’s For You all the way to 1992’s Love Symbol Album,” his most recent release at the time. The Hits 2, meanwhile, was composed of raunchier cuts: opening with the respective title tracks from 1981’s Controversy and 1980’s Dirty Mind, followed by a roughly chronological trip through the seedier back alleys of his greatest hits, from “I Wanna Be Your Lover” to “Gett Off”–though the final track is the elegiac “Purple Rain,” presumably because it’s required by law to be the closing track on every Prince compilation.

Though some might quibble with the lack of strict chronology–and I certainly quibble with the use of inferior single edits for most of the songs–The Hits is a solid listen from beginning to end. But the real reason why it remains the O.G. is the aforementioned third disc: a generous sampling of B-sides, non-album singles, and rarities, the majority of which still aren’t available anywhere else on digital formats. For most artists, such a collection would be a mere curio; but any dyed-in-the-wool Prince fan knows that some of his most indispensable music came out on the flip sides of his singles, including bona fide standards like “Erotic City” and “How Come U Don’t Call Me Anymore?” The B-Sides isn’t perfect–nobody actually wants to listen to the 7″ mix of “Erotic City”–but it’s all we have, even almost 25 years later.

verybestofprince

At the time of its release, The Hits also held the dubious distinction of being something of a swan song for “Prince”: the collection was released shortly after he’d changed his name to the same unpronounceable symbol that had adorned his previous album, marking the beginning of an all-out war with Warner over the ownership of his music. In 2000, however, long after he’d departed to become an independent artist, Prince’s publishing contract with W.B. expired; this, presumably, left the label in need of alternative means to leverage his back catalogue, which they still technically controlled. There isn’t really much to say about the resulting compilation, 2001’s The Very Best of Prince: it’s a bog-standard “greatest hits,” a single-disc collection of Prince’s biggest singles from 1979 to 1991. The only real surprise is the inclusion of 1991’s low-key, proto-neo-soul “Money Don’t Matter 2 Night,” which hadn’t made the cut on the much more expansive Hits set. That being said, it does what it’s supposed to do: this is the single-disc sampler you buy if you like “1999” and for some reason don’t particularly care to dig much deeper. You weirdo.

20426-ultimate-prince

Warner had other ulterior motives for their next compilation, Ultimate Prince, released in 2006: simply put, for the first time in at least a decade, Prince was finally a hot commercial ticket again, thanks to his twin “comeback albums” Musicology and 3121. A two-disc set, Ultimate feels like an attempt to replace The Hits; the result is a noble effort, but ultimately a failed one. The hook this time around is certainly compelling: everybody knows Prince’s extended cuts trump his single edits 9 times out of 10, so Ultimate uses the extra running length to give us full-length versions of tracks like “Let’s Go Crazy,” “Kiss,” and even the little-heard (and awesome) “dance remix” of “Little Red Corvette.” The trouble is, it’s inconsistent: many of the tracks are still the lame single edits, and the presence of some extended mixes just ensures the absence of the others is felt more keenly. Perhaps worst of all, Ultimate is the only compilation to date to actually suffer from Prince’s involvement: the artist formerly known as the Artist Formerly Known as Prince had final approval over the track listing, and deemed some of the selections–including the 12″ mix of “Erotic City”–too ribald for his (and our) delicate ears. If you can’t tell, I’m still not over it.

4ever-inner

Which brings us to 4Ever. It’s tempting to look at this latest compilation and see nothing but a cold-blooded cash-in on a beloved, recently-deceased artist–though, it’s worth noting, the set is actually the only one to be produced with Prince’s full cooperation. As a sampler of Prince’s W.B.-era peak, I’d rank it above Ultimate and The Very Best of, but below The Hits, simply because of the lack of a disc like The B-Sides; the track listing, however, is arguably the most balanced yet, with fan favorites like 1981’s “Gotta Stop (Messin’ About)” and 1986’s “Mountains” appearing alongside the usual suspects. There are also some unadvertised benefits for completionists: the version of “Gett Off” included, for example, is the U.K. single edit, which for some reason bleeps out the word “ass,” but includes an additional verse from the extended version; the 7″ mix of “Alphabet St.” is also included, which is great for longtime haters of the album version’s “rap” by dancer Cat Glover (c’est moi). I don’t necessarily recommend 4Ever for hardcore Prince fans–though I bought it, because I wanted to put my money where my mouth is and pay the estate for a high-quality version of “Moonbeam Levels.” As a holiday gift for the Prince-curious in your life, however, it’s hard to criticize.

But the release of 4Ever still serves to underline something that I hope the preceding rundown made plain: simply put, Prince still needs a truly definitive compilation to his name. 4Ever is a good start, particularly as a replacement for Ultimate: it provides an extra layer beneath the surface for potential fans willing to dig deeper than The Very Best‘s single disc, whetting the appetite for his 1980s albums (all of which, with the exception of Batman, are essential purchases on their own). But what Prince really needs is a four-disc box set; he needs his version of the classic 1991 James Brown compilation Star Time. I want to see a fully chronological overview of the Warner years, integrating B-sides and extended mixes and maybe even a few judiciously-selected outtakes like “Moonbeam Levels,” that gives a full picture of his artistic development from 1978 to 1993. This is the kind of treatment Prince deserves, simply for the sake of his legacy: he’s not just a hitmaker for ’80s nostalgists, he’s an important artist for every serious listener of 20th century popular music, and he deserves to be treated as such. And yes, NPG, if you’re reading this, I will buy such a set, even though I already own all of his albums–if nothing else, as a gift to introduce someone else to his music.

But that’s not all. There’s an even more glaring hole in the compilations listed above: simply put, while “Prince” in his original public-facing incarnation might have died in 1993, Prince Rogers Nelson lived on for almost another quarter century, releasing over 20 albums that have never been officially collected in any form. And while not all of that material would be of interest to casual listeners, that if anything just means that his post-Warner material is even more due for a compilation to separate the wheat from the chaff. There are even genuine hits, from “The Most Beautiful Girl in the World” in 1994 to “Black Sweat” in 2006, that have never appeared on a “Best-of.” This is all the more staggering now that Prince has passed, and many of us (myself included) have started to take a more judicious look at his much-misunderstood tenure as an independent artist. I hope NPG Records already has plans to remedy this hole in his discography with a follow-up compilation to 4Ever collecting material from 1994 to 2015; but just in case they need some ideas, next week, I’ll take a stab at putting together my own track list, and we can all have an argument discussion about it. I’ll see you then!

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Filed under 1980's, 1984, 1990s, Alan Leeds, NPG Records, Prince, Prince 4ever, Warner Bros.

Prince 1958-2016: “I Wanna Be Your Lover” (1979)

Prince is an artist whose history really fascinated me. Up until the age of 16,I was so ignorant of Prince’s history that I actually thought his career started with “1999”. It was amazing for me to learn that Prince’s recording career began in the late 70’s. Not only that,but that it still had a sound that was recognizably his own. Over the years,this late 70’s period for Prince has become a personal favorite. One that I really enjoy discussing. One of the most important things about this era was that,even in a crowded funk/soul environment,Prince got his first major crossover hit before the 70’s decade ended.

Prince first hit single “Soft And Wet”. This was rooted squarely in funk and commercially ,it landed pretty much within the R&B Top 20. But just barely crossed over to the pop listener. And as the very prejudiced anti disco movement began to gain footing in 1979,both Prince and Warner Bros understanding crossover would be necessary for his career at that point. So the solution would to find a way to create a song with heavy pop structure that would still maintain Prince’s homegrown funkiness. The solution was in his first R&B #1 and pop Top 20 hit in “I Wanna Be Your Lover”.

A pounding snare drum kick kicks off the song. For the first 2 1/2 minutes of this song,the refrain consists of a deep rhythm guitar playing on one bright,melodic chord. A high toned and bass synthesizer back this up along with the drums. On the choruses,a string synthesizer plays harmony to this. After a space funk synth on the final chorus,the song goes into a 3 minute instrumental section. This section brings in a high bass line playing a funk riff high in the mix over a similar synth backdrop. Then a higher synth brass part comes in-occasionally accompanying only the drums before the song fades out.

The first time I heard “I Wanna Be Your Lover” was the single edit,which is basically the vocal oriented first 2:50 minutes of the song. The version on Prince’s self titled 1979 album is a 5+ version that predominantly emphasizes the final instrumental section of the song. The entirety of the song is very funky. Its also where Prince was able to harness the stripped down,loose jamming funkiness that defined his debut album while introducing it with a strong sense of song craft. An element that could sung and hum. That makes “I Wanna Be Your Lover” perhaps the most important song Prince recorded in the 70’s.

 

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Filed under 1979, crossover, drums, Minneapolis, Minneapolis Sound, naked funk, Prince, rhythm guitar, synth bass, synth brass, synthesizer, Warner Bros.

4 Paisley Park’s Consideration: 14 Rarities That Need to Be on the New Purple Rain Reissue

purple-rain

One of the very first posts on my own blog, Dystopian Dance Party, was an exhaustive rundown of the bonus tracks I wanted to see on the then-newly announced 30th anniversary reissue of Prince‘s Purple Rain. Since then, a lot of things have happened–chiefly, and most tragically, Prince’s sudden death just over six months ago, leaving behind even more uncertainty in how his back catalogue would be handled. One thing that did not happen, however, was the release of that “30th anniversary” Purple Rain reissue–until, apparently, now.

That’s right: this week, NPG Records and Warner Bros. finally announced the release of the new Purple Rain set in 2017, promising an extra disc of as-yet-undisclosed bonus material. So, now that this really seems to be happening, I figured it was high time to dig up my two-year-old post and reevaluate my wish list. What follows is a slightly edited version of the original post: 14 of the outtakes, live versions, and rarities from the Purple Rain era that I’d like to see officially released. I’m aware, of course, that the reissue’s track listing has long since been set, and that there’s no possible way for everything I mention below to fit on a single compact disc. But to any of Prince’s people who might be out there reading this, when it comes time to put together the eight-disc blow-out mega-set covering Sign “ the Times/Crystal Ball/Dream Factory…hit me up. I’ve got a lot more ideas for that one than just 14.

Dez performing "Modernaire" in Purple Rain; © Warner Bros.

14. Dez Dickerson’s “Modernaire”

This one is about justice more than anything. Dickerson was Prince’s co-lead guitarist from 1979-1983, and a major influence on his more rock-oriented material–including, most significantly, breakthrough hit “Little Red Corvette,” for which he wrote and performed the classic guitar solo. By the conclusion of the “Triple Threat” tour promoting 1999, however, he was no longer able to reconcile his born-again Christian faith with his boss’s ribald public persona. In a rare moment of graciousness, the notoriously vindictive Prince not only gave Dickerson his blessing to leave, but also gave a spot in the upcoming film to Dez and his new backing band, the Modernaires.

The resulting song, appropriately titled “Modernaire,” isn’t really anything special: just a typically funky slice of Minneapolis-style electro-rock, best suited for exactly the kind of club-scene background noise it provides in the movie. It deserves to see a wide release, however, because like so many of the side projects in Prince’s orbit during the mid-’80s, it never really got the shot at commercial success it was promised. The song showed up on movie screens in Purple Rain, but not on vinyl; Dickerson and the Modernaires sank quickly out of sight, not even achieving the visibility of second-string Prince projects like Jill Jones and the Family. So let’s throw Dez a bone, and some royalties. And in the meantime, support the song’s independent release by Citinite, complete with awesome remixes by Hot Persuasion, Complexxion, DMX Krew, Faceless Mind, and even L.A. electro-hop godfather/noted Prince devotee Egyptian Lover.

RS394-RS

13. Vanity 6’s Version of “Sex Shooter

Experienced Princeologists know that Apollonia Kotero, whose boobs costarred as Prince’s romantic leads in the Purple Rain movie, wasn’t the first pair of breasts to front his cheesecakey girl-group side project, Apollonia 6. In fact, Purple Rain was already nearing the end of pre-production, and its accompanying soundtrack had already begun recording, when Prince’s original protégée Denise “Vanity” Matthews was dismissed from the project. As far as the sole A6 track in the movie is concerned, that’s a shame: because like everything else in the Vanity-to-Apollonia transition (except, arguably, the aforementioned boobs), the original was superior.

The Vanity 6 version of “Sex Shooter” has a grittier sound, with more prominent guitar (played, presumably, by the man himself); more importantly, though, the eternal bad girl Vanity makes a much more convincing “Sex Shooter” than Apollonia ever did. No matter how many black lace teddies and fishnets Prince and Purple Rain director Albert Magnoli had her wear, Apollonia could never not come across as the wide-eyed girl next door. But Vanity was all too convincing as the steely-eyed madame of the group Prince originally wanted to dub “the Hookers”; and when she suggestively smirks “blow me away” toward the end of this outtake, she sells it. In fact, one almost wonders how different Purple Rain the movie might have been had Vanity stayed in the leading-actress role. One thing’s for sure: if the Kid had told Vanity to purify herself in the waters of Lake Minnetonka, he would have taken a stiletto boot heel to the scrotum.

Prince jacks the mic at a Time show at First Avenue, 1983; stolen from prince.org

12. Prince’s Versions of Songs from the Time’s Ice Cream Castle

At this point, it’s pretty much common knowledge that, at least until their 1990 New Jack-flavored comeback album Pandemonium, the Time existed as an actual, functioning band only on stage (where, to be fair, they often blew Prince and his band out of the water) and in promotional materials. Their first three albums were ghostwritten and, indeed, ghost-recorded by Prince himself, who even laid down guide vocals–often still audible on the final release–and required frontman Morris Day to replicate them with near-mechanical precision. (He also effectively invented the “Morris Day” persona. Seriously, find a copy of Crystal Ball and listen to “Cloreen Baconskin”: it’s fifteen minutes of Prince in character as “Morris Day,” with the real Morris on drums.) So why not let us hear the original tracks from 1984’s Purple Rain tie-in Ice Cream Castle, before Morris overdubbed his vocals? If nothing else, it would be a wonderfully surreal experience to hear”If the Kid Can’t Make You Come” as crooned by the Kid himself.

Richard Avedon, 1983

11. “Extraloveable”

Okay, now that the extended-family stuff is out of the way, let’s get serious. This one is a long shot for at least two reasons. First, it’s actually already seen an official release: first as a Canada-only online single in 2011, then on Prince’s final studio album HITnRUN Phase Two. For Prince fans who had never heard the original 1983 outtake, it was probably 21st century Prince-as-usual; maybe even a little funkier than most of his latter-day material. But for people like me, who stumbled randomly upon “Extraloveable” while surfing Spotify and promptly lost their shit because they never thought they’d hear an official version in their lifetimes, it was nothing short of a tragedy.

Now here’s the second obstacle: the song is downright offensive, and not in Prince’s usual “not suitable for Jehovah’s Witnesses” sense of the word. After about six minutes of typically slippery come-ons over a vintage Linn LM-1 drum loop (“Don’t U wanna, don’t U wanna take a bath with me?”), Prince abandons any pretense of romance, grunts “I’m on the verge of rape,” and then throws up his hands in a menacing kind of resignation: “I’m sorry, but I’m just going to have to rape U. Now are U going 2 get into the tub, or do I have 2 drag U? Don’t make me drag U.” Even in 1983, this just would not have flown; can you imagine what Andrea Dworkin, or for that matter Tipper Gore, would have had to say? And these days, when social media outrage can last for months over a Robin Thicke song that kinda sounds like it’s about rape, it’s a recipe for P.R. disaster.

Which is kind of a damn shame, because “Extraloveable” is among the weirdest and most wonderful of Prince’s early-’80s electro-funk workouts: a jam so effortless that many of its lyrics, notably “baby I know my rap is hard / but not as hard as what’s behind door…door number pants,” appear to have been written literally without any effort. Then there’s the mid-song one-man jam punctuated with callouts to band members who probably weren’t even in the studio at the time, and capped off with a searing guitar solo cheekily dedicated to the recently-departed Dez Dickerson (“Hey Dez…don’t U like my band?”). And, while I certainly don’t mean to make light of an issue as grave as sexual violence, it’s tough to take Prince’s rape talk seriously when it’s delivered in the melodramatic tones of a sexually ambiguous automaton. Let’s say include this one, but with a trigger warning.

© Warner Bros.

10. “All Day, All Night”/”The Dance Electric”

I include these two tracks as a single entry because they have a lot in common. Both are extended, electro-inspired pieces written by Prince for other artists and recorded in 1984: “All Day, All Night” showed up in remixed form on the Prince-produced 1987 debut by Jill Jones, while “The Dance Electric” was overdubbed by childhood friend and pre-Controversy bass player André Cymone for his 1985 album AC. And I guess if it came down to it, only one would have to see the light of day. But both are really good: the last gasps of Prince’s flirtations with hardcore electronic music before he moved toward the more organic, psychedelia-influenced sounds of the Revolution era.

In fact, seen from that perspective, there’s almost a before/after narrative to be read here. “All Day, All Night” is the closest Prince had come at that point to pure techno: a hypnotic synthesizer throb overlaid with cryptic, disassociative lyrics that could equally be about sex or MDMA (though, given Prince’s noted teetotaling tendencies, are probably just about sex). It’s also noteworthy for the immortal opening line, “Oh, what a beautiful morning…oh, what a beautiful ass.” “The Dance Electric,” meanwhile, starts from a similarly urgent LM-1 pulse but then builds with layers upon layers of neo-psychedelic guitars and chanted vocals by Prince and his Revolution cohorts/water temperature testers Wendy Melvoin and Lisa Coleman. In fact, the more I think about it, fuck it, put ’em both on the reissue.

© Warner Bros.

9. “When Doves Cry” with Bass

By now, I would think that most people still reading this article would have heard the story behind the absence of a bass track on what is arguably Prince’s most popular and recognizable single (short version: while mixing the track he was dissatisfied, asked engineer Susan Rogers to turn the bass all the way down, and liked the way it sounded). It’s one of the more famous legends in a career with more famous legends than most. So why not give us the chance to hear the original mix, bass line and all, for ourselves? This is definitely treading into novelty curio territory, as “When Doves Cry” in its released version is as perfect a song as it can possibly be. But let’s be real here, anybody in the market for an expanded reissue of Purple Rain probably has the interest to check out at least one novelty curio.

Stolen from princevault.org

8. The Complete August 3, 1983 First Avenue Concert

This, I write with an admittedly sinking heart, is probably the likeliest bonus material to be included on the reissue: after all, three songs from the show–“I Would Die 4 U,” “Baby I’m a Star,” and yes, even the masterful title track–already made it in studio-polished form to the original Purple Rain album, and filling out the second disc of a reissue with a period-appropriate live show seems like the new thing to do when an artist is squeamish about releasing studio outtakes (see, for example, the 2010 expanded edition of David Bowie‘s Station to Station). But it’s really only a weak choice compared to the wonders we could be receiving otherwise. This isn’t just a great show–as evidenced by the fact that some of its basic tracks have been passing for studio recordings for the last thirty years–it’s also a historically significant one: the August 3 First Avenue concert marked the debut of guitarist Wendy Melvoin in Prince’s newly-rechristened backing band, the Revolution. Between the raw live versions of the Purple Rain material–played for the first time in front of an audience–and the inclusions of oddball tracks like outtake “Electric Intercourse” (more on that later) and a cover of Joni Mitchell‘s “A Case of You,” this could make for fascinating companion listening to the album (because, you know, there’s absolutely no way to hear it now). Hell, make it Disc 3 after a full disc of studio outtakes and I for one will be cheesin’. And not to push my luck, but hear me out about a possible Disc 4…

Photo stolen from Wikipedia

7. Prince and the Revolution: Live

Another thing all the cool kids seem to be doing in the deluxe-reissue market these days is releasing a disc of video content to round out the set (and, let’s face it, jack up the price). In the case of Purple Rain, Prince and Warner Bros. have it pretty easy: there already was an official release of Purple Rain-era live video by Prince and the Revolution, and it happens to be amazing. Prince and the Revolution: Live captures a typically blistering set from Syracuse, NY in March 1985, including the to-date only officially released version of classic outtake “Possessed” (again, more on this later) and an eighteen-minute (!) version of “Purple Rain” itself. And all W.B. has to do is clean up the footage that was originally transferred to VHS and slap it onto a Blu-ray disc. Yes, I realize video restoration is a costly and time-consuming process, so I’m being facetious when I say that’s “all” they have to do. But that just means they’d better get crackin’; 2017 is almost here.

Seriously, though, it will be a missed opportunity if this set comes and goes without a re-release of Prince and the Revolution: Live. It’s too perfect a document, especially if my list of demands does come true and we’re also getting the First Avenue show. Hearing (/seeing) both of these shows alongside one another would truly give us the full picture of the era: from small club to stadium, from before anyone had ever heard “Purple Rain” to after the song, movie, and album had made Prince a megastar (an exhausted megastar: just weeks after this show, he would infamously announce his retirement from live performance). Even if it’s not packaged with the Purple Rain reissue, I still think it’s high time for Live to be remastered; perhaps they could do what the Stones did with their most recent Exile on Main St. reissue and their 1974 concert film Ladies and Gentlemen: The Rolling Stones, and release the two projects separately but timed for synergy.

The lyrics sheet for "Electric Intercourse"; stolen from Julien's Live

6. “Electric Intercourse”

One thing worth noting about Prince is, while I have been referring to unreleased studio tracks as “outtakes” for the sake of convenience, he wasn’t really an artist with a lot of “outtakes” in the traditional sense of the word. Unlike most artists, who enter the studio only when it’s time to record a new project and will literally “take out” tracks that don’t come together or won’t fit into the album’s running length, Prince by all accounts spent inordinate amounts of time in the studio recording just for the sake of it: sometimes for a specific project, sometimes for other artists, and often for his own personal entertainment. So while all of the studio tracks being discussed here were recorded during what might loosely be dubbed the “Purple Rain era,” beginning after the conclusion of the Triple Threat tour and through the release of the album itself, it’s unlikely that any of them were actually meant to be included on the Purple Rain album.

“Electric Intercourse,” however, is a relatively rare exception. A sensual, electric piano-driven piece with a soulful vocal performance by Prince, the backing tracks came from the same aforementioned August 3, 1983 live show that yielded “I Would Die 4 U,” “Baby, I’m a Star,” and “Purple Rain.” The following month, Prince recorded overdubs at Sunset Sound in Hollywood; just a few days later, however, he also recorded “The Beautiful Ones,” another slow, piano-heavy number that quickly took the place of “Electric Intercourse” on Purple Rain‘s track list. And really, it was the right call; “The Beautiful Ones” is a stone classic, one of the best ballads in the whole Prince corpus. But “Electric Intercourse” is no slouch, either, and hearing it for the first time in its studio-polished form would be a real thrill. Of course, if the reissue were to include the First Avenue show in its entirety, the original live performance would at least be exposed to a wider audience; an acceptable compromise. But still, the pedant in me wants to hear exactly what changed between the live performance and the studio session.

© Warner Bros.

5. The Extended Version of “Computer Blue”

Remember the scene in Purple Rain where an emotionally disturbed Kid performs “Computer Blue,” bare-chested and oiled up with his eyes covered by a black lace mask, while Wendy mimes fellatio on his guitar? Now remember how you wished that scene was ten minutes longer, with more Wendy and Lisa sexbot voices and some bizarre, Jim Morrison-esque spoken-word poetry? Oh, and also more guitar solos and dirty electro-funk-rock grooves? I don’t know about you, but that’s one of my favorite parts of the movie, and I love “Computer Blue” even if it is basically just a weirder rewrite of 1999‘s “Automatic.” And while on the original album it comes across as an extended introduction to “Darling Nikki,” the unreleased full-length version gives it much more of an opportunity to let its freak flag fly.

1984 press photo; stolen from Lansure's Music Paraphernalia

4. “We Can Fuck” (“We Can Funk”)

Another long shot, because for better or for worse our beloved former “Rude Boy” seemed averse to dropping “F”-bombs later in life. But if his family could find it in their hearts to look the other way, this could be a much-needed salvaging of one of Prince’s most mistreated songs. “We Can Fuck” is, of course, the original version of the song eventually released on 1990’s Graffiti Bridge as “We Can Funk,” and like most things related to Graffiti Bridge, it was a missed opportunity of the highest order. Prince resurrected his 1983 backing track for the remake, but used it as a showcase for P-Funk godfather and recent Paisley Park signee George Clinton; while this might sound like a good idea on paper (“Funk” is right there in the title!), and while Clinton did his best with the material–the recurring chant “I’m testing positive for the funk/I’d gladly pee in anybody’s cup” is vintage Brother George–the darkly sexy groove is engineered for Prince’s sultry croon, not Clinton’s stoned-cartoon rasp. And while there is a transfer circulating of “We Can Fuck” in its original 1983 incarnation, it’s both incomplete and terrible quality. So please, NPG/Warner, throw us a bone; let us pretend, even for a few glorious minutes, that Graffiti Bridge never happened. We won’t even mind if you change the title again.

© Warner Bros.

3. “Possessed”

The real crime when it comes to this song is that it technically already was in Purple Rain: listen carefully during a scene between Morris Day and Apollonia in First Avenue (the one where Morris is boasting about his brass waterbed), and you can hear an instrumental re-recording of “Possessed” playing in the background. The instrumental version is interesting–a synth and sequencer experiment that demonstrates Prince’s broadening sonic palette in 1984 and points the way toward the future explorations of 1985’s Around the World in a Day and 1986’s Parade–but it’s also seven minutes long, has no vocals aside from a classic Prince groan at the beginning, and doesn’t really go anywhere. The original 1983 version is where it’s at: almost nine minutes long, but boy does it go places, with another great LM-1 beat, some muted funk guitar, strategic synthesizer stabs, and one of the Purple One’s most seductive vocal performances.

It’s also among his most frankly sexual lyrics of the ’80s, which makes the cynical side of me wonder if an unexpurgated version will see the light of day in 2016: toward the end of the song, Prince doesn’t just assure a lady that if he doesn’t give into his temptations her “pussy puts up quite an awful fuss”; he then proceeds to spell out exactly what he means by “putting up a fuss,” making it less a double entendre than a delayed single one. There’s also an instrumental breakdown proceeded by the callout “me and the boys would like to jam,” which, considering the fact that two of the six members of the Revolution were women, I’m pretty sure is actually meant to be a reference to Prince’s royal jewels. So yeah, it’s dirty. But if Prince’s people can bear to release it, we will finally have a definitive version of one of his most essential lost gems.

 

© Warner Bros.

2. “Erotic City (‘make love not war Erotic City come alive’)”

I know what you’re thinking: “Erotic City” isn’t a rarity. It’s one of Prince’s most famous B-sides (hell, one of the most famous B-sides, full stop), George Clinton covered it in P.C.U., why waste valuable reissue space on something everyone’s already heard? Well, here’s my argument: the real “Erotic City,” the 12″ version that stretches like elastic to a glorious seven and a half minutes, hasn’t seen official release since its original issue in 1984; and the fact that a whole generation has now theoretically grown up, can in fact now go to war and die for their country, while hearing only the weak-ass three-minute version included on The Hits collection, makes me sick. It’s hard to clarify in words what makes the long version of “Erotic City” so much better than the edit. The edit hits all the highlights, it doesn’t sound awkward or remove any major elements, but the 12″ mix just feels right; it builds at the perfect pace, its subtle rhythmic variations a masterclass in modular groove construction. Put another and perhaps more àpropos way, “Erotic City” is better at seven and a half minutes than three minutes in the same way that actual sex is better at seven and a half minutes…or, you know, longer.

1. Something We’ve Never Even Heard About

Yeah, I’m kind of cheating on this one. But the fact is, this list is being assembled from scraps. Prince is one of the most heavily bootlegged artists out there–right up there with the Beatles and Bob Dylan–and it’s a testament to the obsessiveness and tenacity of his fans that we know as much about his unreleased material as we do. But the whole reason why the idea of Prince “opening the Vault” has been such a tantalizing one for the last 30-plus years is because we don’t know what else there is to hear. If any artist has the capability to surprise us with something completely out of left field, some unreleased masterpiece we’ve never heard about, Prince is the one. And now his estate finally has the chance to do that.

Of course, I am under no illusions that any of this is actually going to happen. I have fully prepared myself for the fact that whatever reissue of Purple Rain makes it to stores next year will probably be a disappointment; in a way, it couldn’t possibly live up to 30 years of bootleg- and speculation-fueled anticipation. This will, almost certainly, end in tears. But at least Prince had the foresight to give us the perfect soundtrack.

© Warner Bros.

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Filed under 1980's, 1984, Apollonia, Lisa Coleman, Minneapolis, Minneapolis Sound, Prince, Prince & The Revolution, Purple Rain, Uncategorized, Vanity, Warner Bros., Wendy Melvoin

My Life with You I Share: An Alternate Timeline Review of Prince’s For You

Note from Zach: As you may or may not know, I’ve spent the last several weeks writing about the songs from Prince’s debut album on my chronological Prince blog, dance / music / sex / romance. In the process, I’ve been struck by the many contingencies that exist around For You, and Prince’s early career in general. If things had gone even slightly differently; if his label–or, for that matter, Prince himself–had shown even a little less confidence in his artistic development; then we would be looking at a very different musical landscape in 2016. There’s also the fact that, as I’ve noted several times in my track-by-track posts, it’s difficult to look at For You in retrospect without seeing it as just the first, not-entirely-successful glimpse at a talent and vision that would find its full expression in years to come. But what if that perspective wasn’t the default? What if For You wasn’t the first step in a long career by Prince, but in fact his first and last album? This post is my attempt to think my way through this situation: think of it as a look back at For You from a possible alternate timeline. I don’t know if I will do this for other albums in the future–or, like, ever again–but I thought it was an interesting exercise to examine Prince’s earliest days as a recording artist through a completely different lens. I hope you find it interesting, too.

The reclusive multi-instrumentalist known only as “Prince” may not be as much of a household name as, say, Shuggie Otis; but to serious aficionados of 1970s funk and soul, he inspires a kind of hushed reverence normally reserved for the likes of Stevie Wonder. In fact, Prince’s mainstream obscurity and his cult notoriety are two sides of the same coin: both stem from his having released only one album, 1978’s For You, before he disappeared from the music scene completely. Thanks to a decades-long process of discovery by collectors and rehabilitation by critics, however, in 2016 he stands as one of the great “what-ifs” of 20th century pop music.

The story behind the making of For You is fascinating and frustrating in equal measure. An introverted musical prodigy from Minneapolis, Minnesota, Prince signed a multi-million dollar contract with Warner Bros. Records when he was just 17 years old–which unsurprisingly made waves in the recording industry trades at the time. Also remarkable was the fact that, as a 1978 press release put it, “Prince did it all. Composed the music, produced the sessions. Played the instruments (drums, guitars, pianos, bass synthesizers and more) and sang all the lead and background vocals. He even wrote the string parts.” He was, according to legend (and the press release), the youngest producer in W.B.’s history as a label.

(Photo removed at request of rights holder.)

But Prince’s inexperience and perfectionism proved to be his undoing. The story goes that he blew through all $180,000 of his three-album recording budget on For You alone: holing up in the Sausalito Record Plant for days on end, tinkering obsessively with the songs. When it was finally released, the album was a modest success: lead single “Soft and Wet” even reached Number 12 on the Billboard Hot Soul Singles Chart (though it peaked at only Number 92 on the Hot 100). But the second single, “Just as Long as We’re Together,” stalled at Number 91 on the R&B charts; the album itself also dropped rapidly, peaking at only Number 163 on theBillboard 200. Prince did get some positive press from African American teen magazines like Right On!, where his soft, almost feminine good looks and ineffable air of mystery made him marketable as a pop idol. But the mainstream largely passed him by, and Warner ultimately decided that another album wasn’t worth the investment; after Prince made an awkward, tentative live debut at Minneapolis’ Capri Theatre in January 1979, the label cut their losses.

Which is a shame, because if nothing else, For You positively bristles with potential. The aforementioned “Soft and Wet” is futuristic funk, streamlining the pioneering synthesizer sound of earlier acts like Parliament with an added dose of fey, flirtatious sexuality. Closing song “I’m Yours” starts as a lite-funk workout, then transforms abruptly into full-blown arena rock. The opening title track, meanwhile, is lush baroque soul–not to mention evidence of how Prince managed to blow almost $200K on a single record–with a blissed-out a cappella chorus of multi-tracked Princes singing in unison. It’s like an R&B “Good Vibrations”; the kind of bold, hubristic statement you’d expect from an established artist with multiple successes behind them, not an upstart teenager who came out of nowhere and would return to obscurity just as soon.

There are also more predictable pleasures, albeit always with a subtle tweak. “Baby” is a note-perfect Philly soul simulacrum (had Prince ever even been to Philadelphia?), with lyrics about the decidedly unconventional subject of an unplanned pregnancy. “My Love is Forever” is chirpy disco, but with guitar leads more muscular than even Nile Rodgers would dare attempt. “In Love” also sounds decidedly of-its-time, but with lyrics (“I really wanna play in your river”) that are disarmingly frank in their eroticism. And on the soft songs–“Crazy You” on Side One, “So Blue” on the eccentrically-named “The Other Side”–the 18-year-old shows a depth of musical range and vocal dexterity far beyond his years. For You isn’t earth-shattering, per se–there’s a reason why it didn’t set the world on fire when it came out in 1978–but its subtle blend of musical styles and Prince’s oddly demure lustfulness belie an inventive artistic persona that isn’t quite like anything else, before or since. It’s little wonder that several influential members of the new school of “alternative” R&B, including Frank Ocean and Janelle Monáe, swear by this relatively obscure debut record from the late ’70s.

The afterlife of For You is even stranger than the story of its birth. Prince, as mentioned above, seems to have disappeared after he was dropped by Warner: presumably back to his hometown of Minneapolis, though conflicting reports also claim he became a successful session musician in L.A. It’s certainly difficult to imagine an artist as bold and ambitious as Prince clearly was leaving music behind entirely; there are thus numerous rumors of later maneuvers from behind the scenes. The tracks “Do Me, Baby” and “Why You Wanna Treat Me So Bad?” from the 1979 debut album by André Cymone–Prince’s fellow Minneapolitan, and his bass player at the ill-fated Capri Theatre show–are both heavily rumored to have been written by Prince; though they don’t sound quite like anything on For You, so whether it was actually him is anyone’s guess. There’s also been speculation that he played the guitar part on Lipps, Inc.’s 1980 single “Funkytown”: still the biggest hit ever to come out of the Twin Cities. Otherwise, all pop cryptologists have to go by is a string of little-known B-sides from Minneapolis-based artists like Sue Ann Carwell and Alexander O’Neal, with writing credits from suspiciously pseudonymous-sounding names like Joey Coco and Alexander Nevermind.

Meanwhile, the stature of Prince’s sole official release has only grown with time. The album was out of print for most of the 1980s, until it received a spike of notoriety among crate-diggers in the hip-hop era: see, for example, the sample of “Soft and Wet” in RBL Posse’s “I Ain’t No Joke.” This led to the album being reissued in the early ’90s, along with a renewal of interest from critics and musical historians. Today, as noted above, it’s a bona fide cult record, feted among artists and listeners on the left field of R&B, pop, and hip-hop for its unique, genre- and gender-fluid sensibility. Prince, meanwhile, has remained reclusive, though he’s presumably still alive: with the album’s 40th anniversary fast approaching in 2018, it would be great to see him come out of retirement and play some of these old songs for his new and growing fanbase. The world might not have been ready for For You in 1978, but I think it just might be ready now. Hopefully, wherever Prince is today, he realizes that.

(All right, that’s it, y’all…thanks for indulging me in this little A.U. fan fiction exercise. I’m actually taking next weekend off from Andresmusictalk, but I’ll be back on October 8 with something that will almost certainly not be about Prince. See you then!)

This post is cross-posted from dance / music / sex / romance.

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Filed under 1970's, Alexander O'Neal, Prince, Uncategorized, Warner Bros.

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: Martika and Carmen Electra

martika

If 1990’s Graffiti Bridge project was a clear case of diminishing returns for the Prince side project industry, then the years to come were downright dire. In fact, this week we’ve finally arrived at what most fans agree is the all-time nadir of Prince’s work for other artists: the dreaded 1993 album by model/actress/2004 MTV Movie Award Best Kiss winner Carmen Electra. But first, as a palate cleanser/stalling tactic, let’s look at a less-reviled 1991 project by Marta Marrero, better known as Martika.

A former child star (Kids Incorporated, Mr. T’s Be Somebody…Or Be Somebody’s Fool!), Martika launched a career as a pop singer in the late 1980s, reaching Number 1 with her 1989 single “Toy Soldiers.” For her followup album, she approached Prince to contribute a few songs, giving him a notebook of her own lyrics for inspiration. Four of Prince’s tracks ultimately showed up on the album in 1991: the title track, “Martika’s Kitchen,” plus “Spirit,” “Don’t Say U Love Me,” and lead single “Love…Thy Will Be Done.” Prince also demoed another song, “Open Book,” for the sessions, but it didn’t make the final cut; it would ultimately be released by Jevetta Steele on her 1993 solo debut Here It Is.

Like Elisa Fiorillo’s album the previous year, Martika’s Kitchen is pleasant but not earth-shattering. Probably the most remarkable track was its sole Top 10 hit: “Love…Thy Will Be Done,” for which Prince wrote music to accompany a prayer composed by Martika. It certainly seemed to be Prince’s favorite: he was known to perform it himself onstage from 1995 until his last solo piano tour in 2016. Incidentally, today actually marks the 25th anniversary of Martika’s Kitchen‘s release; I didn’t plan it that way, but hey, it’s kinda cool when things work out like that.

carmenelectra

But enough stalling; we all know what we’re really here to talk about. Carmen Electra was born Tara Leigh Patrick, and first encountered Prince in 1991 during auditions for an all-woman rap group he was putting together around our girl Robin Power. After that idea was wisely scuttled, Prince came up with something even worse: he would write and produce a solo album for Tara herself. Oh, and also her name was “Carmen Electra” now, because Prince was apparently incapable of speaking to an attractive woman without giving her a fantastical stage name.

1993’s Carmen Electra is infamous simply because it exists: it’s widely believed to be a major reason why Concrete Jungle, the long-unreleased solo debut by New Power Generation singer/keyboardist Rosie Gaines, never made it out on Paisley Park. If that’s true, then it’s easily one of the worst decisions made by Prince–even in an era that, quite frankly, won’t ever be remembered as his most artistically or commercially astute. Carmen was/is undeniably gorgeous, but as an M.C.–because Carmen Electra was a “rap” “album”–she makes the aforementioned Robin Power look like Missy Fucking Elliott. Her lead single “Go Go Dancer”–the closest the album came to spawning a “hit”–was basically invented for preteen boys to watch on mute after their parents had gone to bed.

I know I’ve been hard on some of Prince’s side projects, especially in the last few posts; Carmen Electra, however, is truly terrible. Listening to it in full is a test in endurance I wouldn’t wish on my worst enemy. For hardcore fans of Prince, it’s arguably even worse, as he had the gall to dig up some of his own songs for Carmen to, er, spit over. Second single “Everybody Get on Up” samples Prince’s unreleased 1986 cover of the Esquires’ “Get on Up“; even more sacrilegiously, slow jam “All That” is a godawful remix (de-mix?) of “Adore,” arguably Prince’s most enduring ballad.

Carmen+Electra+Hot+20081

If Carmen Electra was meant in earnest, then it was a decision many orders of magnitude more baffling than when Prince changed his name to an unpronounceable glyph that same year. If, on the other hand, it was some kind of passive-aggressive act of self-sabotage against his parent label Warner Bros…to be honest, it still wasn’t worth it. Perversely, though, I kinda like the fact that it exists. If nothing else, it’s an important reminder that Prince, amazing as he was, was only human. Really, we’ve all done things we regret for people we wanted to bone; Prince just happened to do it in public, on a major label, for a woman who later went on to bone Dennis Rodman and Dave Navarro.

Next weekend I’m out of town, so my guest post series will be skipping a week; I’ll be back on September 10, though, for a look at Prince’s ill-fated side projects during the Symbol Era. Summer isn’t technically over until the 22nd of September, so Prince (Protégé) Summer will be going at least until then; in the meantime, if you’re interested, feel free to check out my work at Dystopian Dance Party and dance / music / sex / romance.

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Filed under New Power Generation, Paisley Park, Prince, Uncategorized, Warner Bros.

‘Come’ At 22: If Prince Had A Chance To See The Future,Would He Try?

Come

Prince’s 1994 release Come is,in actuality,part of a series of records released to fulfill his contract with Warner Bros. 1993 was a very prolific year for Prince in much the same way that 1986 had been. Much of this material saw release throughout the middle of the 90’s. Come  is a dark album,often dealing with uncomfortable topics such as racism and child abuse. Even if some of the compositions had a gloomy atmosphere,Prince actually brought out some strong jazz,industrial and hip-hop hybrids into his funky grooves on this album. Here’s an Amazon.com review I did on this album five years ago:


It would likely be hard pressed to find any part of Prince’s career more enigmatic and provocative as the mid 1990’s. The man was dealing with not only a battle for creative autonomy from Warner Brothers because apparently,he didn’t have as much control over the financial aspects of his music than we actually thought. At the same time there was a personal change occurring within him and these two factors came together in a name change to an unpronounceable symbol that would begin his liberation from the excesses of the recording industry.

This decision earned him a lot of negative attention in the press. And commercially? Well it was almost the musical equivalent of “jumping the shark”. But Prince was on a mission,away from his name and himself and this album,clocked in artwork resembling a gravestone reflected this mission. Musically however,it’s a whole other story. There’s been so much time passed since I fully absorbed this that I forgot what a funky album this actually was.

Likely recorded during his 1993 battle with Warner’s from the production values of it,the title song features a 10 minute JB type horn funk send up with some production nods to the jazz-hip-hop fusion of the day. Really a very musically incredible tune. “Pheromone” and “Papa” are every bit as funky,while both taking on very dark and serious issues such as (what sounds like) cocaine in the former and (definitely) child abuse,very explicitly in the latter,with Prince stating at the end “Don’t beat your kids or they’ll end up like me”. “Space” is rather a melodic 90’s variation on funky-soul,not outside the spectrum of what TLC were doing at this particular time.

“Loose!” is one of the most musically aggressive songs Prince has ever done with it’s mixture of industrial house and speed metal. “Race” again finds Prince in his hip-hop/funk places with another strong number,this time taking on the issue of race in a more direct manner than before,even taking on the whole “our blood is the same” racial universalism concept head on. “Letitgo” explores similar territory only with a tad bit more of a deeper bottom. “Dark” is an excellent contrast,a warm and melodic retro-southern soul ballad with lyrics that couldn’t be more opposite.

“Solo” finds Prince poetically musing in near a cappella cries and growls over a harp like sound while the ending “Orgasm” is…well too descriptive in it’s graphic depiction of voyeurism. But that’s nothing new for Prince is it? I’ve heard this album be accused many times of being derivative, boring and an album released only to fulfill a contract and embark on his own creative pursuits . Honestly I’m not sure how Prince could do that. It’s just not part of his musical oeuvre.

And he doesn’t do it here one bit. It’s no accident that he at last decided to release his shelved 1987 recording Black Album‘ this same year. On the crawl up into middle age at this point,aside from the personal changes he was dealing with Prince was in a position to put his music back in the harder funk direction he began his career with. Not only that but again he was playing up the somewhat darker side of his emotional and carnal fantasies much the same as he had in the late 80’s. And that’s what he did with this album as well.


One interesting fact about this album is that,from the cover/jacket artwork to the lyrical progression these songs tend to have,its almost a eulogy of Prince’s life up to that point. Considering the man is not with us anymore,this album finds him staging his own fictive funereal as his O(+> persona was about to emerge. During the time I was just getting into Prince on album based terms,this was one of his (then) newer albums that really interested me. And considering that the 90’s would be such an on and off decade for Prince,this album stands the test of time in some surprising and unique ways.

 

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Filed under 1990s, Amazon.com, hip-hop funk, hip-hop jazz, Industrial funk, Music Reviewing, O(+>, Prince, The Artist Formerly Known As Prince, Uncategorized, Warner Bros.

Prince Summer: “We Can Work It Out” (1977)

Prince Rogers Nelson was no stranger to recording by the time he’d signed with Warner Bros. in 1977. He was barely 19 at the time. And had already had some experience in recording with Pepe Willie’s 94 East along with his own demos from 1976. Around the time he got signed by Warner’s in 1977,he,Owen Husney and Chris Moon were putting together Prince’s official press kit  (a rather unconventional one with photos and an accompanying haiku on each one) and his first proper studio recordings at Minneapolis’s Studio 80. These songs passed into legend during the years before internet.

With the advent of online music and YouTube,these unreleased songs that have been circulating for years have come to light in a whole other way.  One of these songs just leaped out at me when I first heard it. As I’ve made clear many times,I have a special affinity for early Prince. Especially as it set the stage for his greatest musical moments yet to come. The interesting thing is,it would prove quite significant in years to come,even if it was never officially released. But I’ll talk about the song first,and tell you the rest of the story later. And the name of this song is “We Can Work It Out”.

Bobby Z’s drums kick off with a chime,and maintains a percussive funkified back beat throughout. On  the chorus and refrain of the song,Prince’s processed bass/guitar/Clavinet interaction plays in an upbeat,melodic fashion as he sings both the lead lines and the breakdowns in his most ethereal falsetto. On the bridge,that same bass/guitar/keyboard interaction starts playing in a more bluesy funk style-playing in that loose jamming instrumental style typical of Prince’s songs from this era. At the end of the song,this musical into the sound of a thunder storm before fading out.

Musically this song is structurally very in keeping with the sound of his debut For You-the key difference being that his Minneapolis Sound synth brass style wasn’t present yet. It’s brightly melodic,disco era pop/funk sound has a very sunny atmosphere. Lyrically speaking,the song is almost an audio press kit as it’s essentially a love letter to Warner Brothers. Especially singing lines such as “Music for the young and old, music bound to be gold” showcasing his hopes as well as his self confidence. Still the album ends with another lyric that would tell another story.

Prince’s last line is spoken in his best DJ style voice saying “Makin’ music naturally,me and WB”. While it’s apparent Prince was excited about being signed to a major record label,the line also signifies some of the matters that would one day set Prince at odds with the company.  Throughout the song,Prince is telling the label “hope we work it out” over and over. The fact that he adds the line “Put your trust in me, I’ll never let you down/ cause  I know I can count on you to help me make it”. By ending the song with the sound of a storm,its clear even early on Prince knew his future musical road would be complex.

 

 

 

 

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Filed under 1970's, Bobby Z, clavinet, drums, Funk, Funk Bass, Late 70's Funk, Minneapolis, multi instrumentalists, Prince, rhythm guitar, Warner Bros.

Prince Summer: “Soft And Wet” (1978)

Prince’s debut  For You is one of my favorite albums by him. This viewpoint continues to evolve with time. What probably impressed me most is that its probably the most instrumentally full and orchestral example of Prince’s Minneapolis Sound-which of course replaced horns with polyphonic synthesizers. Mixing an ethereal style of instrumentation with heavy soul and funk flavors is no easy task. And personally,this debut album really pulled it off better than many give it credit for. It also represented Prince’s own coming of age from teenager into an adult.

He recorded his first demos for this debut in 1976 with local producer Chris Moon. He then bought the demo tape to a local business man Owen Hussney. He and Prince moved out to LA were the 17 year old signed with Warner Bros. Prince stayed at Hussney’s house-working tirelessly on his debut at the Record Plant,and developing an affinity for Hussney’s scrambled eggs so its been said. On April 7th,1978 For You finally came out. The first single released,and consequently Prince’s first hit song,was written and played by Prince with only Moon writing the lyrics. This song was “Soft And Wet”.

Prince panting starts out the song as…almost a vocal kind of hi hat cymbal. Prince plays very break heavy Afro Latin type drum solo. The main melody consists of three keyboard solos. One is a high polyphonic synth solo,the other a lower one and a synth bass line giving it the funky phat. In between these lines,there are interludes of space funk synth effects. On the vocal parts,the mix reduces to mainly the bassier lines. There are two choruses-one of which is actually an instrumental bridge. On the first chorus,Prince is playing a highly rhythmic synth bass to his own vocal.

When it comes to the song’s second chorus,he’s playing a hard bop jazz style chordal walk-down synth solo improvisation of his original vocal line. On the last few verses of the song,Prince is singing the song title to the high pitched synth brass and calculated drum breaks-all before his falsetto vocal up-scaling bring the song to a dead stop. Each time I listen to this song,it emerges just how much it showcases Prince’s funk at some of it’s instrumentally dense. His layering of the Oberheim 4 and 8 voice polyphonic synths with the drum breaks alone make this a major funk breakthrough for him.

First time I heard this song on  Prince’s first compilation The Hits/The B-Sides, it clued me in that it’s accompanying album For You was just the funk I might’ve been looking for at that time. That proved very good thinking. “Soft And Wet”‘s majestically funky sonic layering of synths,falsetto vocals,jazzy breaks and solos showcase that Prince was not only basing his music in heavy funk. But also that his funk was going to be presented uniquely-quite different than most of the brass based bands of the day. In the end,this song provided a strong window into how Prince would instrumentally approach his funk.

 

 

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Filed under 1970's, Chris Moon, drums, funk music, jazz funk, Los Angeles, Minneapolis, Minneapolis Sound, Owen Hussney, Prince, synth bass, synth brass, synthesizers, Uncategorized, Warner Bros.